The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

[Mamorien]

Headless Over Heels.

Welcome to the final week of Book 1! We'll be concluding the first book on Thursday, and then I will take a brief break of one or two weeks. After that Book 2 will begin.

The Thief Recovers

The Thief

The dull pain of his tenderization beneath August il Agante’s fists drummed against his exhausted brain to the rhythm of Demetrius’ hooves; he flitted back and forth across the boundary of consciousness, now and then, when the horse’s gait changed and his body discovered an exciting new way it hurt.

But it didn’t matter. It was okay. She’d come for him.

He only remembered snatches of their return. Tiago and Ofelia helping him from the horse. Hands clasping him, sure and sturdy against his back.

Then he was in bed, and it was day. And Ofelia was in the easy chair in the corner of his hotel room, reading.

He rolled to his side and winced. “Morning.”

Ofelia glanced up and back down again. “Good afternoon, in fact.”

Maybe that was why his throat was so parched. There was a pitcher of water on the nightstand; he reached weakly for it, half-expecting Ofelia to intervene and pass it to him. She didn’t, and he sat up more, and he was tender and bruised, but he was all right.

He poured a glass of water, threw it back in a breath, and poured another. “Where’s Annalise?”

“She’s off on the scaffold,” Ofelia said. “Everyone was quite cross with her, how much she delayed. The condemned are impatient to get their heads lopped.”

Seth stretched his sore arms and rubbed the ligature marks on his wrists. The woman who’d saved his life last night was outside taking the lives of others. He supposed you might call that playing God, but Annalise struck him as uniquely deserving of deification. He looked to the shamrock square of sky beaming into the hotel room. “Tiago’s with her?”

“Mmhmm.” Ofelia turned a page. “He’s forgiven her.”

“For what?”

“For chasing you away,” Ofelia said.

“Sorta thought you were the pro-Seth sibling.”

“We are both pro-whatever you did with that grouse you fixed for us.” Ofelia got up. “If I pop off to tell them you’re awake, you won’t have any kind of mysterious aneurysm while I’m out, will you?”

“Don’t think so. I actually feel pretty good.”

“The benefit of a city Fontana’s size,” Ofelia said. “At least a few of the apothecaries are slinging panaceas more reputable than pulped popmites and ink-dyed suet.” She tossed her book into her satchel, and added another laying open on the floor with its pages bent. “Are you mended enough for a hug?”

He held his arms open. She bent by his bed and pulled him into a quick, tight embrace.

“Thank you for coming back, Seth,” she said. “Welcome home.”

This earnestness, coming from wry, dry Ofelia, stunned him too severely to cobble together a proper reply before she hurried from the room.

EDIT: The second part, with the title drop, isn't quite as steamy as 1.44 above, but it is about Seth preparing to get unlit the fun way.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/173313...ired-taste
https://www.scribblehub.com/read/2385004...r/2482504/