Jocelynn padded softly across the thick rugs to the washbasin and broke the thin sheet of ice that had formed on the water's surface overnight, splashing her face with the icy water to wash away the stains of tears that had dried on her cheeks overnight.
The shock of the cold water against her face made her gasp, but she scrubbed methodically: forehead, cheeks, jaw, the back of her neck, until her skin felt raw and awake. Her hands, she scrubbed three times, but even that couldn't wash away the lingering feeling of hot, slick blood or the leather-wrapped hilt of a knife in her hand.
It hadn't the day before either, but at least this morning, she managed to stop after washing her hands three times. Yesterday, it had been five before she gave up.
