She was almost full. Well, physically she was stuffed. She knew she had gorged because her stomach was tight. But the sensation of tightness was not the same as satiety. That she would not get unless she consumed more souls. Fortunately, Tik-tak Mal’uk had made a lasting, if revolting, meal, and she did not think she would need to hunt until she returned.

Aboooominaaatioooon…

Ahh, there it was. Still so bitter. Still so angry. It was no longer hiding, so she could hear it clamoring against her godsoul’s constant humming, but—it was strange.

Enha-naus-hasa-en did not speak in words. She sang her soul song, like all things did, a thing Ba’an had been hearing for as long as she could remember. It was not something that bothered her anymore, though the dead god was becoming more and more discordant with time.

But Tik-tak Mal’uk did not sing. It spoke words. It cursed at her. It was strange, but then again—everything about Tik-tak Mal’uk was strange. She did not think it was a basa’an, but it did not seem to be a spirit, either.

What was it?

Ba’an tightened her hold until it wriggled. Stay silent, bothersome one.

Why was this one so different?

The servant who had walked her to her room opened the door and bowed low, keeping her face to the ground until Ba’an stepped into the room. The serving woman began trailing in behind her, but Ba'an stopped walking to block the doorway, feeling rather poorly.

"Kyria?"

"You...may retire for the evening. I am well. I wish only to be alone and lie down."

"Yes, kyria." The woman stepped away and shuffled backwards, still bent into a bow, until Ba'an shut the door. She did not show her discomfort, but she knew she would not pass her hours inside the estate if she could help it. She would shop and visit Merida, and then she would…

Then she would leave Lukios behind.

She closed her eyes, listening. The men were still clustered downstairs, indoors now that it was completely dark. Ba’an had left the dinner early, too tired to stay longer. It had been immensely draining, trying to understand and speak Dolkoi’ri all evening while making sure her manners were, if not good, passable. There were many things they had said and did that she had had to ponder on before speaking.

Eventually, the headache that had been growing steadily all evening could no longer be ignored, and she had made her excuses to leave. Lukios had wished to walk her to her room, but a servant had appeared to whisk her away and his friends had pulled him back to the banquet.

Ba’an washed up and uncoiled her hair. It was dark, and she was only wearing a tunic to sleep in. As Ba’an had said to Gaios, the room was very nice: the night air blew in from the large window that faced the courtyard, and the smell of the garden came with it. It was a warm night, and the bed was soft, much softer than her own. When she lay down, the bed bounced very slightly.

After a moment, she bounced again—just a little.

It was a very nice bed. Very, very nice. She did not know how the Dolkoi’ri craftsmen had made the mattress so it bounced, but it was very enjoyable, if undignified.

One more time. Then she would stop.

Ba’an lay on the quivering bed, eyes closed as she focused on the sensation of the mattress moving beneath her. She was being childish, she knew, but…

With a soft sigh, she rubbed her temples with her fingers. She had been incredibly foolish. Breathtakingly so.

There was nothing she could do about Nikias now. She could sense him downstairs still, but he seemed to be doing nothing at all suspicious. There were no signs of quick, agitated movements, and no one had stormed upstairs to drag her down by the hair—so it was likely safe to assume he had not guessed who she was. Perhaps he only thought her an exceptionally powerful witch, and with the way she had behaved, that was the best she could hope for.

It would be best if she returned to the desert quickly. Out of sight, out of mind. Her presence would endanger Lukios, though she did not think Epitus or Askles would be quick to turn on him. Nikias and Gaios, on the other hand…

Were they all truly friends? Ba’an did not think they were. The feasting and kind reception were all to do with Dolkoi’ri customs and politeness, but she did not think Lukios ought to depend on Gaios or Nikias for anything.

Soon. She would leave soon. Perhaps the day after tomorrow, once she was finished buying gifts for Merida and her host. Ba’an thought of Lukios again, his sweet smile and infectious grin, the simple comfort of his presence. He was always warm, even when they were not touching—just like late afternoon sunshine. She would miss him. Dearly. Very dearly.

She thought of him standing in a dusty field full of trees, their branches laden with leaves and olives, green and growing and full of life. She thought of Lukios, dressed neatly in his tunic and chiton, shining like the sun as he wandered beneath the dappled shade of his trees, the shadows dancing in time with the gentlest of breezes as his hair stirred against his cheek...

She could not imagine herself beside him. Ba'an was a drab, dark creature, and Synoros was a beautiful place, peaceful and calm, but full of life. A creature like Ba'an would be a curse, a blight that withered souls and crops alike. No, she could not return with him to Synoros. It would be a selfish, wretched trick to play, and Lukios deserved...he deserved...

Ba'an sat up with a start, shivering.

It was nearly pitch-dark now, and the candle by her bed had burned down and out. Starlight spilled in through the open window alongside the cold. She had fallen asleep. Her headache had gone, but now she was disoriented. Ba'an expanded her senses, unsure of the hour. Were they still feasting?

No. The men had dispersed. She could sense Nikias, Epitus, and Askles, along with souls she recognized as belonging to some of the servants, some ways away from the house. They were at the gate, by her estimate, and lingering there--perhaps in conversation? Gaios was already deeper inside the estate, in an area she was not familiar with, and Lukios...

...Was returning to his quarters.

Alone.

Ba’an touched her right hand, over the spot where Lukios had caressed her knuckles, remembering the heat of his body as he sat next to her. She wanted much more than that. It had been nearly four days now, and her longing was a constant ache. Knowing they would part soon only made it more cutting, like a wound needing succor.

What if she went to him now? Would that be too scandalous? The Dolkoi’ri seemed to think women and men ought to live separate lives unless they were children. Even married couples seemed to live almost separately—Gaios certainly did.

Their time was running short. Perhaps being scandalous ought to be the last thing she worried about. Ba’an did not think she would see any of these men ever again after this. Once Lukios was gone from her life, there would be no reason or opportunity to see them.

So what did it matter?

She turned her face to the window. Would it be worth the risk to…fly to him? No, of course not. She was going soft in the head. She pressed her face into her pillow. What if she waited until everyone was asleep?

If she waited another hour, would everyone be abed? But then…what if Lukios was asleep too? Would he even want her to…?

Ba’an stiffened, head turning unerringly toward the bright, familiar soul drawing closer and closer.

Lukios.

It was not the usual door—it was the small one beside the bed. When Ba’an had arrived she had asked Aika what it was for, and she had said it was for slaves and servants, so they could remain invisible as they cleaned and cooked and did everything else that was needed.

But this was not Aika on the other side of the door. It was Lukios. He was coming, closing ground rapidly as Ba’an sat and waited, eyes fixed on the elaborately patterned curtain that camouflaged the entryway.

He stopped. He was only a few steps away, kept from her by a flimsy curtain and a thin wooden door.

“…Ba’an? You awake still?” His voice was very quiet.

She slipped off the bed and stepped rapidly across the floor, yanking the curtain aside and flinging the door open.

Lukios looked down at her, still dressed in his nice clothes. He smelled faintly of wine and sweat, but Ba’an did not particularly care. Wordlessly, he stepped inside and took her in his arms. She put her arms around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her into a hungry, urgent kiss.

He shut the door with his back, his hands too busy holding her up and touching her to do the job. It only took three strides for them to reach the bed, and he lay her down, mouth seeking her skin as he kissed his way up her chest and throat. His touch left pinpricks of fire in their wake and she shuddered beneath him, belly clenching as she ran her fingers through his hair and touched him again and again, the longing in her too strong to contain.

“Lukios,” she sighed against his mouth, “Lukios, Lukios—”

Ba’an’s world narrowed until there was only his sweetness, his heat, the bright glow of his soul swallowing her the way the stone did shapers.

“Ba’an,” he murmured. “I was going mad.” He kissed her again, then pressed his lips against her throat where her pulse pounded wildly. He pushed her tunic up over her legs, over her head. He pulled it off her and tossed it onto the floor. “Gods. I am going mad. Still."

He ran his hands over her thighs, the calluses on his palms and fingers as rough as his touch was gentle. The sensation pricked her to her core, and she shivered lightly as he pushed her legs apart and settled between them; Ba'an reached for him, fumbling as her fingers shook. She tried to unclasp the knot that held his chiton, but she could not work it free. Lukios reached up and helped her, letting it fall to the floor to lie over her tunic.

She tugged his shirt over his head. He helped her, tossing it onto the pile. Once disrobed, he leaned over and kissed her again, pulling her legs firmly around him as he tipped his head down.

There was no further delay. Lukios pulled her hips to him, spreading her open and sheathing himself with one hard, swift movement. They groaned together in relief at the sensation of being joined again.

“Okay?” He stilled, breathing hard against her mouth. She could feel little tremors running through him as he held himself back.

“Mmm.” She kissed him and wriggled her hips. He got the message.

They moved together, slowly at first, but then faster and faster, harder and harder, until the gentle wet glide of skin-on-skin became fleshy slaps. They thrust against each other with the pent-up frustration of too many days on the road and all the things they hadn’t said, both scrabbling for the sweet pleasure of release.

Ba’an tried not to be noisy, but it was impossible. Her low whimpers became gasps, which became moans, and soon she was muffling her cries against his shoulder as plunged into her with abandon, every stroke pressing against her nub in a way that wound her tighter and tighter. Eventually, the tightness coiled until it snapped.

“Lukios! Lukios!” She twisted in his grasp, legs twitching as she shuddered through her orgasm. He kissed her frantically, thrusting into her once, twice, thrice before pulling out of her to press against her belly. She felt his release splash hotly against her skin, dripping into the dark thatch of hair between her thighs.

He groaned, face pressed against her shoulder as they slumped together. The spearhead that dangled around his neck kissed her chest, cool to the touch. After a moment, he roused, kissing her cheek.

Ba’an reached for him, tired but eager. “Again?”

He caught her hand in his, kissing the tips of her fingers. “Yes. But…” He sat up and looked at her with sudden seriousness. “There’s something we need to talk about first, isn’t there?”

Ba’an almost sighed. Well, of course he hadn’t forgotten.