On the other side of that curtain Cayrimsa struggled with the knowledge he had just laid at her feet. Her eyes still stung with tears and the eel still slithered around in the dark patches of her soul.

I love you… The words kept echoing in her head. With a frustrated cry she threw the covers off herself and got out of bed.

“Why do you think I care? I don’t. It doesn’t change a thing Nyx…”

The words fell into the dark pool of briny water moments before she lunged her hands into it. Her reflection waivered and then disappeared into the ripples. She pulled the dark shadows from the bucket, wringing them out, careless of where the purple drops fell.

It changes everything Cay. Lie to everyone else, lie to him if you must, but at least admit the truth to yourself.

“The truth? I don’t know what that is.”

In her grip the shadows twisted tightly and the final drops of water that they would freely release stained the edge of her shirt.

Yes you do…

Using all her strength she released her grip on the dye induced ball of shadows, catching one corner of it as they unfurled to the floor. Amber fires flitted toward her pallet.

“The truth is he has ‘entertained thoughts of sharing my bed’”

If that is all he wanted he would be doing that right now. And Cay…

She shook her head and took the shadowed gown to a line hanging against the wall where the loom usually roosted. The wet material fell over the line and sunk toward the floor. She focused her eyes on the purple puddle already forming below the dyed garment. In the drops she could almost see a reflection of the eel that threatened to turn in her stomach again.

“Don’t… don’t you dare…”

He isn’t the only one. soft elven caresses pulled at her mind.

“Liar! Cooshee!”

Cay threw her now purple fingers into the air as she cursed herself. Turning from the lurking dank shadow she stormed across the room to where a small pile of clothing laid gathered on the floor. Fingers sought the dark burlap dress.

No Cay… I’m not lying. You’ve thought about it. He’d be an amazing lover would he not? Is there a single desire that he could not fulfill for you? Those fingers of his, nimble and yet strong… scarred by his love for you…

She rose with the dress and stopped as it came close enough for her to catch a whiff of Nyx still clinging to the material. Her eyes fluttered for a moment and she could feel his weight upon her body, his lips upon her own in the darkness of an alley. Groaning she tightly closed her eyes and started to pull the dress over her head.

“I’m not hearing this… I’m not. I won’t. The hwandi is just toying with me!”

Felt jealous over the cup he kept caressing last night didn’t you?

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” She plopped onto the floor and began to pull her stockings up her legs. “I told you it doesn’t matter… perhaps… perhaps we have entertained thoughts, but it’s a game. He cannot really… love.”

Her fingers found the little buttons on the top of her stockings and slid them into the small loops on the bottom of her shirt. Each one slapped back down against her skin when she released it.

Then tell me something Cay…

“What?” The word was barely above a grunt as she shoved her feet into her oversized boots.

If it is a game and you finally push him to a point that he succumbs… let’s say you treat him as all the others. On your knees in some alley, listening to him groan in pleasure. When it is all said and done, would he treat you like the others? Lace his pants back up, throw you a copper or a slap across your face and walk off?

It was a scenario she knew well, but as she tried to imagine Nyx being the one groaning over her, pulling at her hair urging her on, she could not. She paused, glanced at the curtain that separated her from Nyx and slowly shook her head. “No…”

How would it be then Cay?

At first she did not answer. She stood up and smoothed the shapeless dress she wore over her rather shapely curves. Pursing her lips together she walked to the shelves in the room.

“It wouldn’t be like that...”

The belt she wore was slung around one of the supports for the shelves and she yanked it free while she fastened it around her waist.

How would it be? the voice repeated insistent.

“He wouldn’t leave me…” she whispered very softly and let her eyes close. For a moment she rested an arm against the shelf and sighed. For the briefest moment she could see him, bathed in moonlight, his yellow eyes looking down into hers. He was speaking but the words were meaningless, his tone and his eyes said more than words ever could. She felt him everywhere, holding her tightly against him, feeling his heart beat in time with her own.

And you long for that. It was said as fact not as a question, and it broke the image running through her thoughts.

“Pach!” She cried and swept her arm away from her body as she came back to her full height. One of the jars on the shelf was caught in the arc and crashed to the floor. Dark earth spilled across her floor.

From behind the curtain she heard a familiar voice call to her. “Karl is indisposed, but I doubt he will remain so for long, Cay. We should go if you are ready…”

“I’m coming!” Raising her voice to a level he could hear. A flutter of dark red and the jingle of bells and Cay stood before Nyx shoving the leather hat down over her brow. Behind her she left the pot of spilled soil where it had fallen, she left the work on her loom unfinished with the tails of threads catching in the breeze now and then, she left the swath of dark shadows drying on the line, she left her tree standing over her bed awaiting her return.

The moment before the brim of the hat cut off her gaze her eyes had locked with his. It ended too quickly for her to really give him a shot at deciphering the look. With the thread severed between them for the moment she merely turned and stormed down the stairs, saving only a brief glance at the huddled figure at the bottom.

Through the city they went again. Following the flow and ebb of the crowd they soon found themselves drowning in the market.

There was something almost comforting about being so lost in this group of people. He would not dare to bring up how he felt in all this, and the voice in her head had quieted too as she focused more on what was going on around her than what was going on inside her. Every now and then she caught Nyx in her scans of the crowd and could hear him whispering in her ears.

I love you…

Even through those moment, however, she could sense that something in Drasnia was different today. Nyx had always garnered apprehensive looks from those around him, but today the looks had a colder edge to them. She was no longer dressed as nobility and it was harder for him to appear the loyal servant of some round ear. Mutterings ran through the crowd around them like electrical current. Slowly she picked up on them. Aelion had been taken in.

A familiar cart came into view and the smell of the pies resting over a bed of coals to keep them warm drifted over. The short dwarven man who sold them placed a hand on a dagger when he caught sight of Nyx.

Cay thought quickly. They needed breakfast, and they needed to get out of here without causing a disturbance. She spun and found herself standing within inches of Nyx. The brim of her hat rose until her eyes could see his. As their eyes met again she reached out and slid her hand inside his cloak, without even having to think she found his own curled around his kukri. Just barely she shook her head and for him only whispered. “Ithilamin… let me… one moment and we shall leave.”

Before the full impact of her choice of words could really hit them she had pulled away and moved toward the dwarf to haggle a few of the choice pies off his cart.

Out of the darkness a gentle voice whispered to her. “Quel amrun, elen en cormamin… Oio naa elealla alasee.”

With it the moon rises again above her and bathes her in its tender light.

Under his touch she moves slightly toward him but continues to sleep. Gentle pink light begins to filter through the cracks that last night had let in the tears of heaven. It falls over her face and she stirs gently.

Eyes open slowly and catch the familiar silhouette of Nyx outlined in morning pastels. Before she pulls out of this half sleep state she whispers softly back to him. “Ithilamin, lle entula.”

“As I told you I would, melamin,” Nyx whispered in reply, his fingers drifting across her cheek and into the spill of her hair.

A soft smile played on his lips when he thought to lean down and kiss her rose-petal lips… He thought better of it, though, as he knew she was still in that nether place between sleep and wakefulness… If she suddenly found herself thrust into consciousness only to find his lips on hers, who knew what the consequences might be… he contented himself with the feel of her tresses in his hands, the sight of her, soft and silent there in the blankets, and the nearness that this moment allowed…“I am never far away.”

“hmmm…” she muttered softly. Across the dreamscape that still called to her the moon held its zenith but it wavered as if she looked at it not in the sky but reflected in a pool of dark water. Eyes close to the manifestation of the moon and she curls away from it and closer to the tree.

“Amin ila edhel… amin ila mith’ganni… amin ila… Lyssa.” The whisper, soft and sad is offered to him but gets tangled upon the roots of her tree.

Those words and that sadness in her still sleepy voice plucked a chord in his heart that had not been played in he couldn’t recall how long. His eyes held her even as the chestnut tendrils of her hair were pulled from his fingers when she rolled towards the tree. He sighed softly, realizing that her own sadness was an echo of his own, and his gaze let her go for the moment. Those yellow eyes dipped to the floor between his feet for an instant, his elbows coming to rest on his knees and his hands coming up to run through his mane as he chewed thoughtfully at his lip.

All of those things are true, a voice in his head murmured as Nyx’s eyes panned the tiny apartment, “She’s not an elf. The part of her that is, is not mith’ganni. And she’s not Lyssa.

The moon-hued eyes came to rest on the loom, then, and on the moon and the rose that graced it. … see what the fates have spun for her…

“N’malia,” he whispered, at first, the smile that had begun to wane on his lips, waxing fuller again as he turned and let his eyes fall on her again. “N’malia,” he said again, not whispering this time, but still softly, “None of that matters to me, Cayrimsa.” His hand reached out for her again and came to rest on the delicate curve where neck met shoulder; “All that matters to me, now, is that you know…”

“Know what exactly?” Her voice rose through the roots, more awake than it had been. The witch turned, laying upon her back, his hand finding itself on her shoulder as she moved. Twin amber stars rose to meet the moons that looked upon her.

“Know that you desire me? Know that you have replayed again and again in your mind what it would be like to lay with me? Is that it? That doesn’t make you special Nyx. Many have thought it, several have taken it, but never an elf. I’ve never lowered myself to such.

What makes you special is that I owe you a debt…” she takes a deep breath and looks at him as she relaxes her shoulders down onto the pallet. “You have but to ask Nyx and you may have what you desire.”

Despite the offer and the relaxation of her body her jaw sets slightly and her eyes waiver as she tries to maintain her gaze in his. It threatens to pull away and wander to the loom or to shut the lids completely against the words she has just spit out at him; it threatens to be washed away in a flood of tears.

Nyx blinked…

You see, another inner voice snickered, your dreamweaver lies to you, just as the humans lie to you, and just as this one lies to you, Nyx. Go on, admit to her that, yes, you want her; yes, you’ve dreamed of lying with her. Do it… ask her to repay her debt and then let her ‘lower herself’ so that she may do so.

She uses you just as the rest, do, mith’ganni… I’ve told you this before…

…and withdrew his hand from Cayrimsa’s shoulder. “No,” he said, rising to his feet and abandoning his perch on the edge of her pallet before finally allowing his eyes to tear away from her, “no…”

His gaze lifted to the tree that loomed above her as his hands shoved through his mane again… fell back to her for the flickering of a second as his hands came out of his hair and pressed together, almost as if he were praying… and then, as he turned and padded a few steps away from the bed, came to rest, once more, on the tapestry that still clung to the loom.

“I could lie to you, Cay,” he murmured after a moment, “and tell you that I do not desire you, that I have not entertained thoughts of sharing your bed…”  One hand fell away from his face, then, but the other lingered for a moment and moved to cover his mouth as another sigh tried to escape his lips; “…but you would know they were lies, yes? So what would be the point?

And, elen en cormamin,” he added, “I would no more take that from you as repayment of some debt you think you owe any more than I would take it from you by force…”

The mith’ganni stalked a few steps further away, still not having turned to face her again, and stopped when he found himself standing in front of the loom… studying the moon where it cradled the bleeding rose in the vastness of a night sky….

Without one another, the both of you are alone, Steppe Son, both of you without people or place… both of you with nothing to care for save for that dark anger and hatred that you each profess gives you purpose…

…Alabaster fingers tracked away from a tight-set mouth and reached out to trace over the weaving before him. There was a truth in the weaving just as magical as the truth in Taellyn’s reading had been and Nyx felt it travel through him. “I am alone without you, Cayrimsa,” he whispered, his fingers gliding along the petals of the rose where it met the yellow glow of the moon, “and whether I ever lay with you or not is no longer of any consequence…” His hand fell away from the tapestry, then, and, after another moment, he turned, slowly, and let his eyes find her again.

“…All that matters to me, now, is that you know… that I love you…”

The young peredhil that had watched as the carriage with the round human woman drove off and plastered her face with dust, the woman who had stood in the moonlight listening to the caresses of Prien while black blood dripped down her chin, the girl who had paid a handful of silver coins to have her ears hewed, the babe left in the frosted high grass screaming when it realized the woman who had birthed it was no longer there… they all had expected his lips to press down hard against hers, they had expected hands upon her body, exploring and groping along her possessively.

She had not expected him to pull back, to refuse her offer. A dark eel of anger writhed inside her as he did. It threatened to lash out at him. ‘No’ he had said.

What gives you the right to deny me? A filthy dung smelling horse pacher! That is all you are… I offer the greatest gift you will ever be offered and you deny it?!

For a moment his eyes fell on hers as he stood, the fires burning in them quickly sent his gaze elsewhere. To the loom. Her breath held but the voice screaming in her head went on.

Do not read into that star gazer. A foolish dream…

“I could lie to you, Cay,” he murmured after a moment, “and tell you that I do not desire you, that I have not entertained thoughts of sharing your bed… but you would know they were lies, yes? So what would be the point?”

That’s it hwandi. Admit it… you are like the others. Do not lie to me about what you are, or what you feel. I’m nothing more than a beautiful body… one more in a long line of them you’ve no doubt had. You will probably revel in the thought that I have lowered myself so in letting you have it. You’ll enjoy the thought of being the only elf I’ve allowed to penetrate me…

The eel twisted in her stomach, vomiting its bile until she felt it rise into her throat and twist her features.

“And, elen en cormamin,”

…don’t… don’t say that… even the voice in her head quieted as he continued to speak in the soft tones and the sweet elven accent she had grown so familiar with.

“I would no more take that from you as repayment of some debt you think you owe any more than I would take it from you by force…”

Things quieted down as she watched him examine the loom. Furiously the eel gnashed its teeth when his fingers fell upon the fine weaving. Not his! a stern voice reminded her. While another softly pleaded with Nyx, Please… leave it be… I cannot… do this… I don’t… I don’t…

Both voices cut off when he began to speak again.

“I am alone without you, Cayrimsa, and whether I ever lay with you or not is no longer of any consequence…” His hand fell away from the tapestry, then, and, after another moment, he turned, slowly, and let his eyes find her again.

“…All that matters to me, now, is that you know… that I love you…”

I don’t deserve it… the pleading voice finally finished.

Through threatening tears she searched him. No one had ever dared to say those words to her. Even the human woman had not said it to her. Those that had desired her had not even bothered to offer it as a lie to convince her to give them what they wanted. This was not a lie.

The man

man not elf?

Who stood before her trembled slightly with his admission, his eyes stared deeply into her truly seeing her for more than a beautiful body, for more than her blood for something she couldn’t explain, the color rose in his cheeks and his fingers tensed again.

Hours seemed to pass as she looked back at him and stripped him bare with her thoughts. She laid aside the yellow eyes and the pointed ears, no longer elf, no longer mith’ganni. The grinning belt buckle fell from his waist and the black clothing pulled from his body, ridding him of his obligations to the god that had once tried to seduce her. Layer by layer she removed the things that separated them until finally what stood before her was indeed just a man. A man who like herself had nothing but anger to fuel his life. A man who had gone out on a limb had offered himself to her. Not like she had offered herself to him only moments ago. She had offered her body, he offered his soul, his heart.

A tear slid down her cheek, and finally she took a breath. Barely she nodded her head to him. Her response carried across the room with the scent of rain water in a whisper.

“I know…”

As soon as the words had been said she turned her head. The blanket rose and she drug a corner of it over her cheeks. Once dry she tried to speak again but her voice seemed hallow.

“Dmitrova gave me a few days off with a tail. We can look further into this Avenon situation once I loose the tail. Find some breakfast along the way…”

I know…

Her answer had plucked that same discordant string in his heart and, for an instant, his gaze faltered a bit; eyes winking closed then dropping to regard a puddle that was beginning to both be absorbed into and evaporate from the floor at his feet…

Surely you didn’t expect that she would say it back, Prien’s voice mocked.

No, he answered. He had hoped she would have replied in kind but, at the same time, knew that she wouldn’t. But… I would not be able to continue if I had not, at least, told her… and… her answer is enough.

Is it?

It has to be.

…Nyx’s yellow eyes slithered away from the diminishing puddle and found the darker pool of his cloak where it lay discarded on the floor.

“Dmitrova gave me a few days off with a tail,” Cay said as he bent to close his fingers around the discarded garment, “We can look further into this Avenon situation once I loose the tail. Find some breakfast along the way…”

I suppose it does, Prien’s voice chided even as Nyx chased it from his mind, She, apparently, has nothing more to say on the matter…

“Your tail is half-asleep,” Nyx answered, his eyes gliding back to where Cay still sat curled in her blankets, “underneath the staircase.” He swept the cloak around his shoulders and refastened it. “I shall see to it that he finds the other half while you dress…”

Her lips parted as if she were about to warn him against killing Dmitrova’s shadow - though, she may have been going to say something else - but he stopped the words before they could form with a faint smile and a subtle gesture.

“I will not kill him,” the assassin assured her as he backed towards the bell-hemmed canvas, “worry not. I shall simply make sure that he is truly sleeping before we leave, yes?”

His gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he finally turned on his heel and whispered through the doorway, again, failing to evoke even the faintest pealing from the numerous bells that dangled from the weathered sheet that covered it.