She takes care of her own needs before rejoining the royal siblings

Arimneste gaped after Dia as the woman suddenly departed, leaving her soaking in the steaming water, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts for a long moment after her host abandoned her. The pleasurable ache between her legs burned unsated. At last she returned to herself, the finely-honed mind of the Academy once again analyzing the new experience.

So that is what Sappho wrote of with such fire, she thought to herself, still blushing. And no wonder! But she was in no state to question this king Nyctimus, or indeed do anything but moon after Dia and plead for her to finish what she had done. The young Athenian turned to the chill pool. She could perhaps extinguish her passion in that bracing water. But even as a virgin she was no stranger to the feeling of passion, even if never so acutely aroused, or by a woman. She knew how to handle such things so that her cooler faculties could prevail.

Leaning back in the warm pool, she spread her legs once more and let her own hand touch the nub of her clit. No slow tease, no performance, just quick rubbing. Already at such a fever pitch, it was only the work of moments to bring herself the release she craved. She gasped once, twice, and shuddered, then was done. Mostly. Certainly not without lingering interest in lovely Dia, but not so much that the olive beauty would cloud her thinking.

Now with equilibrium restored, Arimneste stood from the pool and dried herself with one of the nearby cloths, then cast about for clothing. Her own had been whisked away by the vanishing servants. Yes, there was the cloth promised by the king. Something of Dia's.

She frowned at the tube of fabric left for her. A peplos? And no strophion to cover her breasts beneath it? She donned and pinned it, still somewhat uncomfortable. Perhaps here they still favored the garment famed in Sparta, but she was unaccustomed to it, and felt exposed with the open side leaving bare her thigh, flank, and the side of her uncovered breasts. And each step threatened to expose her sex, shaven in the Egyptian style. No matter, she told herself, this is how they dress here, and am grateful for the clean attire. I will just walk carefully and carry myself proudly. And if Dia were to... She stopped that thought before it could go anywhere, then blushed again as she realized that any hint of arousal might easily show through the draped upper fabric. She disrobed again, dunked herself quickly in the cold water once again, dried herself off, and quickly re-donned the clothing. So fortified, she left the chamber to find a servant waiting to lead her.