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“Stop me if you want, Neera. Stop me if you know you don’t want this right now.” He said.

There was the option she should take, yet when she thought about how he had withdrawn from her for her sake, to help her heal and be herself once again, she couldn’t. She had missed him, heart, body, and soul, and she wanted to be merged as one with him, forget all the pain of the heaviness she held in her, and his body gave her that refuge.

“I want this, Zavian.” She said, running her hand down his cheek. “I want this.” She repeated more assuringly.

It didn’t take Zavian another repeat of those words. He touched her as gently as their first time together, and pleasure colored the night in bright, evocative sounds.

But some time into the depth of the night when Zavian again revived her body with his kisses, a tiny thought burrowed its way into her consciousness. It would be your last time having him to yourself this way, this thought said, but she buried it just as it came.

But somehow, she knew it was the truth, but there was no space for anything else but pleasure that night.

....

“Why are you crying?”

.....

“I’m not.”

The maid pointed to her face. “But you are. You’ve got tears in your eyes.”

Penelope touched her face and realized, it was indeed wet. It had been happening for days now, when a silent tear or two would snake its way down her face and wait to be discovered by someone, and this was the third maid who had pointed it out to her in the week.

“Allergies,” Penelope gave her the same answer she had given the other maids. And for more solid proof, she pretended to sneeze.

“Oh, I am sorry,” the maid said. “You’re allergic to what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I walk through the gardens and come back this way.” Penelope again provided the same response she had done two times before.

“Best you avoid the garden then,” the maid said. “How about I send over some tea to your chambers to speed up your recovery? Your eyes are all red.”

“I would appreciate that very much, thank you.”

“Alright then,” the maid turned to go, and Penelope almost cried at the concern even though it had been a lie.

She knew why she was crying. She knew it was Azriel’s words, words she had replayed before she went to bed at night, words she had memorized even though he had said it once. Maybe that was his intention, whispering it into her ear so that the wind would not snatch a bit of the conversation and everything would go in straight to her brain and imprint themselves there, word for word.

But what Penelope didn’t understand was why she should be crying, or rather, why her eyes leaked like it was faulty and needed repair. Azriel was a rake, and she had told him, many times through words and actions, that she didn’t want to be with him, or around him, avoiding him at all costs. And now that he had moved on to the red-headed demon he mentioned (whom she had had dreams of beating to a fault or cutting off all that red hair of hers), she should be relieved, not weepy and somber.

Penelope moved to the kitchen. She would get herself occupied, drive the lethargy out of her bones and do as many chores as she can so she would even be too tired to dream that night.

She made a detour and walked up the stairs, deciding to check on Neera first. She hadn’t seen her the day before, and as she neared the King’s quarters, she patted her face to make sure it was dry, and knocked on the royal chambers once the guards let her through.

“Neera?” she called.

Zavian was out, Penelope had seen him that morning, and he had been more pleasant, and even given her a genuine smile when she had greeted him. So she was sure Neera was in there by herself. She opened the door, and was met with an empty chamber.

Probably with Freya, Penelope thought.

She was about to close the door when she heard a quiet sound, and it sounded like someone was crying. Penelope stepped in and closed the door behind her, and she walked in the direction of the sound, which led to the bathroom. There, in a bath of water, Neera was red and choking on her sobs.

“Neera?” Penelope was struck with alarmed surprise. She hurried to her friend’s side. “Neera, what’s wrong?”

Neera looked up. “Pen,” she continued to hiccup her sobs. “Oh, Pen. Pen...”

“What happened?” Penelope’s voice was raised in alarm. “Is it the water? Did something happen? Are you hurting somewhere?” Neera nodded at the last part. “Where? Neera, I’ll get the doctor, tell me where.”

Neera held a fist to her chest and hit it repeatedly.

“In here,” she cried. “It hurts so much in here.”

“Oh no,” Penelope sat on the edge of the bath, leaning toward Neera and wrapping an arm around her wet shoulder. “What happened, Neera? Did someone say or do something mean to you?”

Neera shook her head. “No, I...just...you’ll hate me too.”

“Hate you? Neera, what are you talking about?”

“I did something bad,” Neera confessed. “And I...haven’t told anyone.”

Penelope felt Neera shudder despite the steam from the water. She believed it must be something serious for Neera to be in such a fragile state, and she thought of the King, who left in completely opposite mood that morning.