Battles of Salt and Sighs by Val Saintcrowe

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I HEARD THATyou were bleeding,” Marta said in a low voice as they were slicing loafs of brown, lumpy bread, “and that’s why you didn’t accompany Larent to Akiel.”

“Does everyone know everything in this place?” muttered Onivia. She was surprised they were giving them knives sharp enough to cut the bread. On the other hand, maybe they did it because they preferred the humans to handle the metal, even though there were enough fae who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. “The gossip here is worse than the capital, I swear.”

“But you’re not bleeding,” said Marta.

“Did you say that to anyone?” She turned on Marta, eyes very serious. “Please tell me you didn’t tell Dandren.”

“I didn’t,” said Marta. “And most of the women likely aren’t paying attention, but they aren’t on the same laundry schedule as we are.” The women who lived together on the first floor all seemed to have their cycles in sync, so they were all doing their washing together, but she and Marta seemed to have only synced with each other. “Still, it raises questions for me. You’re holding out on me. Why did Larent lie?”

Onivia looked around the kitchen. There were fae women on the other side, stirring things in pots, likely far enough away to be out of earshot, but she was frightened to speak of this at all.

Marta continued, lowering her already low voice. “No one can hear.”

She would have liked to have confided in Marta, but she hadn’t. For one thing, she didn’t want to do anything that might endanger her ability to see her sister again, and she knew Larent didn’t want their arrangement made public. For another, she thought that Marta might take it badly, because—from a certain point of view—she was receiving better treatment from Larent than Marta had received from fae men.

“Did he do it for you?” said Marta. “Is he already in love with you?”

Onivia didn’t answer. She sawed at the bread ferociously.

“Or maybe he’s just possessive of you,” said Marta. “Doesn’t want to share you with Akiel.”

Onivia’s hand with the knife slipped and she nearly cut herself. She let out a cry.

“You all right?” said Marta.

“Share me? It’s not going to be like that, is it? Akiel isn’t going to…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “I thought he only liked to watch.”

Marta shrugged. “I don’t know. I have no experience with Akiel in that way at all.”

Onivia looked down at the knife, and she had a sudden urge to pick it up and use it on herself. Maybe not kill herself, but… but mutilate herself in such a way so that men wouldn’t like looking at her.

She took a step backwards. She was shaking all over.

“Onivia?” Marta was eyeing her with concern. “What is it?”

“What is it?” Onivia was sarcastic. She was also talking too loud. “You’re the one who told me about Akiel and the things he likes. We all see Loretia wandering around like she’s half dead, and you want to know, ‘what is it?’”

The fae on the other side of the room turned to look at her.

Marta gave them a wave. “We’re fine here. Just slicing bread is all.”

The fae’s gazes lingered and then one turned away, and then the others followed suit.

Onivia stepped back up to the counter and picked up the knife. She began to slice again, taking deep breaths. As her shaking faded, she felt as if she had been deadened, as though she couldn’t really feel anything at all, not the air on her skin, not hot, not cold, nothing.

“So, Larent does love you, then.”

“He doesn’t.”

“You’re frightened of Akiel because Larent has been gentle with you.”

Onivia let out a laugh that sounded like a sob. “I don’t know what Larent has been with me, but I would not term it gentle, not truly.” In some ways, she felt as if Larent’s treatment of her had been worse than if he’d just acted as all the other men did.

“So, then why did he—?”

“I don’t know.” Onivia’s nostrils flared. It was a lie, but she hoped that Marta would accept it. “It is not as if he consults with me before he does these things. At any rate, he’s informed me that it didn’t work, and that it’s going to happen anyway, as you well know, since everyone knows everything. So, it doesn’t really matter what Larent did or didn’t do, because it is going to happen anyway. And I don’t wish to speak of it.”

Marta regarded her for several moments and then nodded slowly. “Of course. We’ll talk of something else.” She eyed the counter, and then she lowered her voice to the barest of whispers. “I heard something the other day when a scout was reporting in. I was just arriving at Dandren’s room, standing outside in the hallway, and he didn’t know I was there.”

Onivia furrowed her brow, leaning close. “What did you hear?”

“The legions are approaching,” said Marta. “There is one legion, led by some genius young legatus… Naccus or something—”

“Naxus?” She said it too loud.

“Shh.”

They both straightened, looking about, but the fae across the room had not heard.

“Apologies,” breathed Onivia.

“It sounds right,” said Marta. “Legatus Naxus Albertus or something.”

“Albus,” she murmured.

Marta nodded. “Yes. They’re frightened of him, and he’s on his way. They say he’s the sort of mad to fight even in snow.”

She clutched her chest. It couldn’t be. Albus coming? “When?”

Marta shook her head. “Weeks, I think.”

Too late,she thought. Too late, because I must give myself to Larent in front of Akiel tomorrow, or perhaps to both of them, perhaps…

Well, it was too late in any case.

Oh, she didn’t want Albus to see her like this. She didn’t want him to come and find what was left of her. It would be mortifying, after she’d refused him and acted as though he wasn’t good enough for her, to be reduced to this and for him to find her, to look at her with the knowledge of all of it all over him, for him to see her so soiled and destroyed?

But he’ll help me get Magdalia, she thought.

Of course she could endure it for her sister.

And it was a rescue, after all.

She could hold on, if she knew that she would be rescued. She could keep her cracked self together. She could make sure not to break entirely.

ONIVIA WAS ONLYwearing a corset and stockings. Larent had draped a cloak over her when they’d walked through the hallways to Akiel’s quarters, which were a floor beneath where Larent was housed, the old dominus’s quarters, but upon arriving, the cloak had been stripped away, and she was bared.

The corset came down low enough in the front that it covered some of her mound, but her backside was entirely bare, and Akiel had walked around her, leering at that part of her body for too long.

She was drunk.

She had almost resisted when Larent brought her the bottle of liquor, but then she’d decided it would be easier that way, and she couldn’t bear for it to be any harder than it was. Fae were quite susceptible to hard liquors like the bourbon that Larent had brought them, but he told her it had never affected him the same way—too much human blood in him, he suspected—and he said they would both need it, so they’d each had several swallows.

Akiel put his hand on her skin.

“Mine,” Larent said in a low voice, something like a growl.

Akiel smirked.

Larent raised his eyebrows.

Akiel didn’t touch her again, and she didn’t know what that was all about, but she did remember that Larent had said this about her when he’d been given her in front of all the other men, that very first night. Maybe it was significant. Maybe there was some sort of code amongst the fae when it came to each other’s women.

She was only grateful, and she hated herself for caring so much about it, for being so very frightened of Akiel.

Plates of food were already sitting out at a small round table in the outer chamber of Akiel’s quarters. Loretia was standing behind the table, behind one of the chairs, face downcast. She wasn’t wearing anything at all.

Larent gave Onivia a shove in the direction of Loretia, and Onivia realized that this was to be like the dinners in the dining room, with her and Loretia serving the men, filling their glasses and such.

The men ate.

They spoke of the weather and the men in the courtyard, the amount of trees needed to be felled to keep fires going for their warmth, the possibility of men sleeping in the ballroom and the dungeons if it got too bitterly cold.

It had snowed two days ago, but only a few inches of it, and it had melted soon after.

Onivia remembered snow storms in the capital in which everything would be covered in three feet of a snowy white blanket, in which she’d been trapped in her aunt’s house for nearly a week while horses pulled plows to clear the roads.

Albus couldn’t fight in that much snow. If it snowed like that—

“Let’s see her tits, then.” Akiel’s voice shattered her thoughts.

Larent’s plate was clean, and he’d barely touched his wine. He took a drink now, though, and beckoned for her.

At first, Onivia didn’t move.

“Ancilla,” said Larent in a firm voice. “Here.” He beckoned again.

She should have stiffened at the use of the word, but she didn’t. She just obeyed.

Larent tugged her down on his lap and undid the hooks on her corset with one hand, drinking from his wine glass at the same time.

Being in his lap was at least normal. He did that all the time at dinner. Usually, she was wearing something between her legs. Usually she didn’t feel the fabric of his trousers against her sex, but…

It’s normal. I can handle this.

Larent left the bottom part of her corset undone and scooped her breasts out one after the other with one hand, rubbing his palm over her nipples.

It felt good, and they stiffened.

She gritted her teeth.

Larent thumbed a hard peak. “Has there been any more word on the position of the imperial legion?”

“He’s advancing,” said Akiel. “But we don’t have to go out to meet him.”

Larent pinched her nipple. “You mean a siege? Hole up inside these walls?”

It hurt when he pinched, but then he took the sting from it with a casual movement, brushing it softly. She bit down on her lip at it, because it was… affecting. When he did it, she felt it throb between her legs.

“You sound as if you don’t approve,” said Akiel.

Larent pinched her other nipple and soothed it. “I have my doubts about how well the walls will hold against cannon fire, of which he will be well supplied, I think.”

“I’m not asking for your opinions on strategy,” muttered Akiel.

“Aren’t you?” Larent tugged on her nipple, pulling it.

She suppressed a gasp.

He let go of her skin. “Isn’t that why you keep me around?”

Her nipple was warm. It tingled. The tingling seemed to have lit up a line of tingles all the way to between her thighs, where it was tingling too. She found herself barely angling her hips, pushing her sensitive, bare… what was that vulgar word? Cunny. Pressing her cunny into his leg, grinding it into it.

If he noticed, he didn’t react. He continued torturing her nipples and then gently stroking them in the wake of each pinch or tug. He did this absently, without paying any mind to her, speaking to Akiel. “I think we must meet him if he comes to engage us. Perhaps beyond the wooded hill on the other side of the wall.”

“Why there?” said Akiel.

Larent’s fingers moved against her. “We can conceal our numbers there.”

Whatever he was doing felt good. She was aroused and wet and moving her hips against him, moving them more obviously. Now and again, she couldn’t stop herself from letting out the smallest of sighs.

“But we won’t have numbers to rival his. What can we really gain from that?”

“The imperial legions are arrogant, and they think us all untrained and awed by their supposedly superior human forces. You’ve heard what they call themselves, haven’t you? The greatest army in the world.” He smirked, pinching her nipple very, very tightly.

It hurt, and she gasped.

He let go, and the glow of it, the aftermath, was ecstasy. She gasped again.

Akiel’s gaze fell to her, and he smiled. “She’s responsive.”

“Very responsive,” agreed Larent. “And gets wet like that.” He snapped. He moved his hand down and swiped it between her legs. He lifted his glistening fingers.

Onivia shuddered, embarrassed. She got the urge to hide her face against Larent’s chest, to seek shelter against him. She squelched it and set her teeth.

“Little human slut,” said Akiel, smile deepening.

“Yes,” agreed Larent, also smiling. His voice had gotten guttural, affected. He returned to touching her breasts. He rubbed her own wetness into one of her nipples, and the sensation of that burrowed into her, lighting her up from the inside. She wanted to gasp again, but she swallowed it. “My human slut.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t have to remind me,” said Akiel. “What were you saying? About their arrogance?”

“Oh, right,” said Larent, squeezing her breast in one hand, stretching her taut and sensitive nipple in a pleasant way. “They’ll easily think that we’re terrified of them. We’ll send out only a small force to meet them. At the sight of the legion, our small force will pretend to be too cowardly to engage and run away.” He let go of her breast and picked up his wine glass. “The humans will surge forward, down in the valley here.” He pointed down into the wine glass. “And we’ll have my centuria, all armed with rifles, surround them from all sides and pick them off. They’ll have to climb back up to get to us on the high ground.”

“Yes,” said Akiel. “Yes, that could work.”

“It will work,” said Larent, returning his hand to her flesh. “But is this really what you wish to speak of?”

“You brought it up,” said Akiel.

“Did I?” Larent shrugged. “Well, I’m officially distracted at this point.” He lifted Onivia and stood her up. He stood up behind her. He nodded at her. “Clear the table, ancilla.”

Akiel smiled. “Yes, and help her.” He beckoned to Loretia without looking.

Loretia came forward. She picked up an empty plate and moved it over to a cart near the door. There was a bucket for the dirty plates. The cart would be wheeled back to the kitchens for cleaning.

Onivia assisted her. Her nipples were burning and still hard. Between her legs, her cunny was swollen and sensitive, and walking was stimulating. It was bad, but she wondered if it would be worse if she weren’t drunk, if the the liquor weren’t blurring the sharp edges of everything in such a way as to make her numb to it all.

When the table was clear, Larent bent her over it, face down, her bare breasts against the wood. The texture against her sensitive nipples was stimulating.

“Open your legs,” he growled at her.

When she didn’t do it quickly enough, Larent did it for her, kicking her legs wider open.

Her face was turned to look at Akiel, who was greedily drinking her in. He snapped his fingers and Loretia got down on her hands and knees in front of him. Akiel seized a jug of oil and spread it on his fingers with one hand as he unbuttoned his trousers. He rubbed the oil onto Loretia’s rear.

Onivia turned away.

She heard Loretia’s gurgling noise of pain a minute later.

“Have you used her arse?” said Akiel’s voice, threaded through with pleasure.

“What’s the point?” said Larent. “She’s got such a wet, eager cunny, I can’t see the point in going through all the preparation.”

“What preparation?”

“It’s not exactly a hole known for its cleanliness,” said Larent.

“You’re such a pansy sometimes,” said Akiel.

They were disembodied voices, and Onivia couldn’t see either of them. She stared at the cart next to the door, and felt the air on her wet cunny and her bare legs. She struggled to keep her breath even.

“Have you ever had a woman’s arse?”

Larent didn’t answer.

Akiel chuckled. “I didn’t think so. Put your finger in her.”

A long pause. Suddenly, she felt a large, warm hand resting on the cheek of her bare backside. She wasn’t sure whether she was mostly relieved that she immediately recognized it as Larent’s or if she was mostly horrified that she knew the feel of his hand. “If I refuse? What is it you want from me, Akiel? This whole ritual you force men through is perverse, and you know it.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything. We’re having fun here.”

Larent sighed. “Fun,” he echoed in a hollow voice.

“What? You can’t think I could run a cohort by telling my officers they have to fuck in front of me for my enjoyment and still keep control? That would be perverse.” Akiel was mocking him.

Larent’s hand on her moved.

She tensed.

She felt his fingers dipping between her legs, rubbing her, but not for her pleasure. He was gathering up her wetness. He trailed it back over her skin.

No, she thought.

Larent’s fingers circled the bud of her arsehole.

No, no, no.

She clenched it, shutting her eyes.

And then—she was startled, because Larent’s other hand was reaching around her, on the swollen center of her, and he stroked it at the same time his finger pushed into her from behind.

She let out a hiss, but he slid in without any pain. It just felt… odd.

His finger came back out again, and that felt even worse, reminiscent of other things coming out of her, not the least bit like anything sexual should feel, in her opinion.

“What did you think?” came Akiel’s voice, now tight with satisfaction. He was a little out of breath. “Wasn’t that snug? Can you imagine that gripping your cock?”

“Seems like it would chafe if there wasn’t a great deal of grease involved,” said Larent. “Can we get this over with?”

Akiel laughed. “Aren’t we having fun, Larent?”

“So much fun,” said Larent dully.

“Are you even hard?” said Akiel.

“You want to look at my cock?” Larent’s voice had a bit of a mocking undertone now.

“Are you even fucking this little human slut of yours?”

Larent was no longer touching her.

She tried to angle her face so that she could see him, and she managed to make out the fact that he was unbuttoning his trousers.

“There,” said Larent. “Look your fill, Akiel, or should I just show you how I fuck her, since you’re so very interested?”

Akiel didn’t say anything.

And then it happened again.

There was pressure at her opening, and she was stretched, and Larent’s cock was inside her.

It didn’t hurt.

The wetness had done its job, and he just slid into her, easily slid, and when the tip of him seated himself all the way in, it even felt… well it wasn’t a bad feeling. A little thrill even went through her and she made a noise.

Larent made a noise too.

“How’s she feel?”

“Like silk,” said Larent, and his voice wasn’t strong.

She shut her eyes, and she was transported. Now, she was disembodied in a dark, warm place, and the most intense thing in this new world was the sensation.

She could feel Larent inside her, filling her up, piercing her, and she could feel the wooden table against her breasts. Neither of these things were unpleasant. She also could feel the liquor she’d drunk, making everything just a little dim around the edges.

She decided to pretend she was on her couch in the darkness, touching herself. She chuckled inwardly a little at this, because when she touched herself, she usually drew up some fantasy—lately the fantasies all involved her being someone else, some woman who had never been captured by fae.

Maybe she could do that now, too.

Yes, she would pretend that she was willing, that this was her choice, and that she was excited by this, by the way she was bent over and on display and jammed full of hard, hot flesh.

Something quickened in her.

She let out a little gasp.

Larent made an answering noise, and then thrust in her.

She liked that. He was stretching the center of her pleasure and stroking it from the inside of her body.

He grasped her by the hips, pulling her hips tighter against him, going even deeper into her.

She groaned.

He groaned.

Now, his fingers were reaching around and stimulating her just where she liked it, and it was good. Rapturous. Perfect.

She floated, nothing but pleasure, and she didn’t care what was happening to her, not at all.

THE FIRST MOMENTthat Larent felt her warm wetness surround him, he thought he was going to fall apart. The entire situation was unbearable, but this—her—he hadn’t expected—

It’s a cunt, Larent, of course it feels good.

Yes, but not like this.

I’ve been inside her before.

But not like this.

Sacred magics, she felt perfect. He was bent over the table, holding himself up with his palms, which were flat against the table’s surface, and he was only inches from the laces of her corset. He could see her bare skin above that, her shoulders, her fair hair. He had the urge to put his mouth to her, to kiss her shoulder blades and to fit his tongue to the curve of her spine. He…

I want to worship her.

Larent didn’t know how other men viewed sex, but he suspected it was different than he viewed it. Other men seemed to have this notion that they were owed women’s orifices, that they could just take them if they pleased, and this was their right to do so, as if the entire act was nothing.

And Larent always felt, whenever he was inside a woman, that he was somehow privileged to be there at all, that a woman would allow him to penetrate this intimate, sensitive, secret part of her, and that she’d do it for his pleasure, that she’d give him…

This isn’t a gift.

No, he knew that. But for some reason, it still felt to him like that same kind of sacred joining, that same kind of privilege, and he still felt humbled by it.

Before, when he’d taken her before, it had seemed so ugly to him, and he’d had to divorce his mind from his body, to separate himself so that he had barely been present, but that wasn’t possible now, and—

I’m not even moving in her.

He made a thrust, and it was too good, too much. He felt his balls tighten, his body go taut, and he let out another noise. The noises were embarrassing, and Akiel was watching, was right fucking there—

She made a noise too, a ragged kind of noise, a noise that made him thrust again. He pushed his hands off the table and put them on her hips, pulling her against him.

She doesn’t want this, and she doesn’t like this, and you should be quick and finish and end her misery.

He tugged her further back, so that her pelvis wasn’t resting on the table, and so that he could get one of his hands around her, the one on the opposite side from where Akiel sat, so that Akiel wouldn’t see when Larent put his fingers on her clit.

Shouldn’t do that. Last time, you made her cry.

He was doing it anyway, because he wanted her to make noise again.

You’re despicable.

She did make noise.

He had his hand fanned over her hip, and only his middle finger went low enough to dip between the place where her lips parted, to nudge her in her most sensitive place, to rub her there, and when he did, she moaned.

He had been making shallow thrusts, but at the sound, he went faster, deeper.

Her breath seemed to catch the rhythm of his movement.

He thrust.

She gasped audibly.

Repeat.

On and on, and every thrust was hot, slippery bliss.

“Turn her face toward me,” came Akiel’s voice.

Larent turned on him, startled, but not enough to lose the rhythm of his thrusts.

“I want to see her expression.” Akiel’s voice was dark and loose. He had one hand on the bare back of his girl as he pistoned his hips against her, and that—well, that should be disgusting, but it wasn’t, because Larent was inside the most perfect, wet cunny ever made, and watching other people have sex was arousing in much less stimulating situations, so the sight of it sent awful currents through him.

“No,” said Larent, and his voice was loose too, and too defiant, but it was her cunny. Ancestors save him, if he was fucking this cunny, he answered to no man. He felt alive in a way he didn’t think he’d ever felt in his life, and that was disgusting too, and her little breathy gasps were going throaty as he rubbed her and fucked her, and— “No.”

“Larent.” There was a warning in Akiel’s tone.

Onivia turned her head. Her eyes were closed, though. She turned her face to Akiel, obliging and subservient, and it made Larent angry.

It was better, of course, that she would obey, but he didn’t want to do this, any of this, and how dare Akiel demand any of this from him? Why was he listening to this man?

Sacred magics, they were supposed to be free now, but sometimes, he thought Akiel had just become his dominus and he was no better off than when he’d been on the villa.

And still he thrust, and her cunny clenched against him, and she was dripping wet—he had never felt a cunny this wet—and he wished she was naked and facing him, that they were in each other’s arms and he could taste her lips and her throat, and that he could watch her expression while he made her come.

It was this thought that sent him over the brink, and he didn’t make her come at all.

Instead, he dug his fingers into her hips and emptied himself into her, jet after jet of himself, every spurt making his eyes roll back in his head and his teeth clench at the power of it, the sheer goodness of it.

He panted, holding onto her, frozen there with her bent over the table, and then he pulled them both down into a chair. His wet, softening cock slid out of her, and he gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest.

She curled into him. She was shaking.

He clutched her, gazing at Akiel. Akiel was still thrusting into his girl, grunting, and Larent watched that, and now that he wasn’t excited, it was only repulsive.

Eventually, Akiel was done, and he tucked himself away, and his girl crawled off to a corner to curl up around herself.

Just like Onivia’s doing, and it’s not any better in your arms, because you are no better than Akiel.

He was flooded with shame.

“Your little human slut likes fae cock a lot,” said Akiel. “Aren’t you lucky, Larent? Got that little eager thing. Maybe there’s something to that demand of yours, wanting one that wasn’t a virgin. I always think it’s better to train them to do what you want, but—”

“She was a virgin,” said Larent.

“So, you are lucky,” said Akiel thoughtfully.

“We’re done here,” Larent decided. “And don’t ask me to do this again.”

“I’m the princep—”

“You need me, and you need my men, and let’s not pretend differently,” said Larent. “I’m not… I won’t allow you to…” He couldn’t find the words, and so he just stood up, carefully drawing Onivia up with him.

That was when Larent realized he’d never even pulled up his trousers. He looked down at them, around his ankles, and let out a bitter laugh. So much for this speech. Nothing said I defy you more than reaching down to haul up his pants.

But he did it, first making sure that Onivia was steady on her feet. He didn’t look at Akiel as he busied himself with his buttons.

“You were saying?” Akiel was amused.

He was utterly humiliated. He was defeated. This entire experience had been demeaning, and Akiel knew it, and he had done it on purpose. “Permission to withdraw, princep,” he said woodenly.

Akiel smirked.

Larent gazed at him, waiting.

“Permission granted,” said Akiel.

Onivia was closing her corset, fastening it with sure and steady hands. She looked at him blandly.

Larent got the cloak she’d worn through the halls and draped it over her. When they’d walked before, he’d gone first and she’d trailed after him, but something drove him to put his arm around her, to pull her close to him as they walked.

She didn’t resist.

He didn’t let go of her until they were back in his quarters, and even then, he didn’t do it right away. They came in, and he closed the door and he walked her into the middle of the sitting room. He looked down at her.

She looked up at him.

For several moments, they gazed at each other, and he wanted to kiss her. He looked into her eyes. He looked at her lips. Then back to her eyes. He imagined he saw some desire for him in her eyes that he knew wasn’t there.

He let go of her then.

She hunched into the cloak.

Leave her be. Let her collect herself. Let her use the wash basin. Give her some privacy, since you’ve invaded every part of her.

He didn’t move. He wanted to apologize, but the weight of it all seemed too much for words. An apology seemed too paltry.

“I’m sorry.” He said it anyway.

“I know you are,” she said.

It was quiet.

“I meant it,” he said. “If he asks me to do this again, I’ll refuse him, and damn the consequences.”

She smiled faintly. “I’m so happy you’ve developed this backbone now.”

He hung his head. What was he supposed to say? Yes, I found the courage inside your cunt?

“I’m all right.”

He lifted his head.

She let out a harsh sound that might have been a laugh. “How it is that I come to be reassuring you, I don’t know—”

“Don’t,” he said.

“But I’m not broken. I have survived it. It was not…” She shrugged. “I closed my eyes, and it was as if he wasn’t there, that it was only you. And you are…” She blinked at him.

He stepped closer to her.

Her lips parted. The look she gave him was helpless.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek with one hand. “Thank you,” he breathed. “For what you gave me, what you allowed me to take. I don’t deserve it, and you are…”

But neither of them seemed to be able to say what the other were.

Eventually, he let go of her, and he turned away. “I’ll let you have your privacy.” He shut himself in his bedchamber.

But he had shut himself away from the water basin, so he couldn’t wash, and the scent of her was all over him, branding him.