57A fluffy epilogue with a (spoiler) completely unearned victory and some smutty roleplay.
Epilogue: Saltspire
-eight years later-
A late winter night in bed. Solus should have been asleep, but he had a pile of reports to go through before morning. Most of them came from the southeastern border, where Captain Tarvus and his men had been keeping a wary eye on Dursian mercenary activity. War brewed amongst the Five.
"No!" The loud shout, followed by the loud thump of a book hitting the wall, hardly startled Solus from his work.
"Hm?" he grunted.
"I'm done with ledgers for tonight," Olaia grumbled.
"Good," he muttered absently, thumbing through a report on the suspicious disappearance of a trade vessel.
"My back is killing me." Olaia scooted nearer and rolled onto her front. "Back rub?"
Solus folded his legs and propped the messages up against his thighs so he could squeeze her shoulders with his hand.
"Mm, lower."
He rubbed the middle of her back.
"Lower."
The small of her back.
"Lower."
He stopped and looked at her. "That's not your back."
Olaia grabbed his hand and dragged it farther down. "Lower."
Solus let out a weary chuckle. "I'm starting to suspect you don't want a back rub at all." Giving her a squeeze, he pulled his hand away and turned back to his messages.
"Oh, so you'll rub one part of me but not another?"
"Rubbing some parts leads to rubbing other parts and that leads to three sleepless nights in a row."
Olaia sat up with a groan. "I'm not the one that's kept you up the past two nights. You've been too caught up in—" she waved her hand at his reports "—this."
"The Dursians are at war with each other. I need to know what's happening where and with whom in case they decide to include us." He picked up the stack of messages and dropped them on the bed between them. "You could help, you know."
"Pfft, I just got done with tax season, thank you very much, and unlike you, I know when to take a break." She sighed and snuggled up to him. "I was more popular when I was giving people supplies, not taking them." She teased her fingers up his arm, kissed his neck, his cheek, his—
He stopped her with a hand in her face.
She kissed that too. "Take a break, Solus. Please?"
"Zabi, I only let you in here tonight because you promised we'd do work and go right to sleep."
"Is that really why you let me in?" She slipped her hand down his front, teased his earlobe with her teeth.
He didn't stop her.
"You want this as much as I do," she whispered, snagging him in a kiss.
He almost gave in, but in the end, he pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "Enough. I'm tired, you're tired, and we'll regret staying up late. Wait until morning."
"Tomorrow morning?" she clarified.
"If you let me finish this and get a few hours of sleep."
Olaia considered it for a moment. "Fine. I'll help."
Solus dropped half the stack of missives in her lap. "We'll compare notes in the morning."
"After—"
"Yes, after I've satisfied you."
…
Tired as she was, Olaia couldn't sleep. Solus snored softly beside her. Gods, she wanted to grab him and kiss him awake. She wanted to throw responsibility across the room like her ledger. She wanted to stay up through the night and sleep through the day with Solus. She wanted kisses and caresses that weren't meant to finish her as efficiently as possible.
Instead she stared at the ceiling until, eventually, she slept.
…
Solus woke before the sun. Olaia still slept; he'd felt her tossing and turning most of the night. He brushed his fingertips down her face, tucked her hair back. A kiss on her brow and she stirred. A kiss on her cheek drew out a soft moan. A kiss on her lips pulled her from her dreams.
"Morning," he murmured, stealing another kiss.
Moaning happily, she slipped her arms around his neck, holding him close. More kisses, slow and gentle caresses.
"Gods, I've missed this," she half-whispered.
"I know, my love."
Her legs parted under his hand; he rubbed her with two fingers, surprised by how quickly she warmed up.
"Has it really been that long?"
"Far too long," she said, pulling him into another kiss, teasing her hand down his front and stroking him slowly. "How's this?"
"Mmm," he encouraged her wordlessly. "Keep that up."
"Are you sure you can keep it up?"
"What?"
"You're not getting hard."
"I'm tired. It'll take a few—"
The apartment door slammed open.
"Shit," hissed Solus.
They scrambled under the covers, blanket up to their chins. Well, Solus' chin. Olaia had to swim out from somewhere below.
"Why aren't you up yet?" A twiggy girl with dirty feet and a fishing pole came through the doorway. "You promised we'd go to the reservoir today."
Solus and Olaia exchanged a rueful look.
"Arami," Solus sighed. "I didn't say at the crack of dawn."
"You're the one who told me, 'if you're not up before the sun, you're running behind for the rest of the day.'"
Olaia shot a glare at Solus that said as clearly as words, why would you say that to the child that stays up reading all night and still wakes everyone up before dawn?
Turning back to Arami, Olaia asked, "Are you ready to go?"
"Would I be here if I wasn't?" She patted her pocket. "I've even got the worms."
Solus shuddered, recalling the last time Arami's nurse had confronted him with a sticky ball of crushed earthworms.
"I don't think you scrubbed your feet last night," said Olaia.
At the moment, Olaia's feet weren't particularly clean either, but Solus bit his tongue.
Even knowing she'd been caught, Arami still didn't give ground. "I don't see why I have to scrub my feet if they're just going to get dirty again."
Olaia pointed at the floor. "You're tracking dirt everywhere. That means everyone knows where you are and where you've been, including the places you shouldn't be. Clean feet keep you out of trouble in more ways than one."
Arami considered it for a moment before admitting, "I see your point."
"Then you'll go wash your feet."
During the exchange, Solus had managed to slip into his robe and get out of bed. Approaching Arami, he bent, offered her his arm, and lifted her off the ground. Their morning ritual. Arami giggled, legs pedaling in the air.
The distraction gave Olaia a chance to grope for her robe and put it on.
"Throw me!"
Olaia ducked as Arami sailed past her and tumbled onto the bed, on her feet the next second.
"Not a bad landing," Olaia remarked.
"Do it again!" Arami demanded, running at Solus. "Higher this time! I want to touch the ceiling!"
Solus turned Arami around and pushed her toward the doorway. "Away with you. We'll be ready to go by the time you're clean."
Arami looked back, her young face dark and serious. "You'd better hurry or I'm going on my own."
Olaia turned to Solus, clearly trying not to laugh until Arami was out of hearing. "That girl…"
Solus buried his fingers in her hair and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Is just like her mother."
"Well," Olaia sighed. She bent and picked up the fishing pole Arami had left behind. "Looks like no work or play for us this morning. Only fishing."
…
A successful morning of fishing.
"You brought the winter root, right?" Olaia asked as she started the fire.
Solus tossed two tubers at her in response.
She caught them both. "Perfect."
"How long until lunch?" Arami called from the water. She'd abandoned her pole on the shore, wading knee deep in search of turtles hiding in the waterweed.
"About an hour," Olaia called back.
Arami groaned.
"We can always take you home now if you want."
The girl waded farther out, shouting, "You can try!"
With the winter root in the fire and the fish roasting on a stick above it, Olaia leaned back on her hands and absently watched Arami pick her way along the shore. Solus sat beside her and gave her a short, pleasant kiss.
"Are you all right?"
Olaia put her hand on his and squeezed. "I'd take a day at the reservoir over a day of taxes and Council." She glanced at Solus. "It's killing you that you're not there to receive your reports, isn't it."
A wry smile. "You know me well." He gestured at Arami and added, "But she wants to spend time with us. That won't last forever."
"I wonder how long it'll be before she dumps a turtle in your lap."
"She won't find one. It's too cold." Solus reclined and closed his eyes.
"I caught one! I got it! Come see!"
Olaia waved. "Bring it here! Show your father!"
"Coming!"
A wet turtle landed in Solus' lap. He cast a baleful glance at Olaia.
"Thanks."
…
A bedtime story. Arami's mother did all the voices. Then Yara, the nurse, appeared in the doorway.
Mother and Father each got a kiss goodnight before Arami was rushed to bed.
All the books she'd hidden were gone. Or so Yara thought. By then, Arami had learned to "hide" books in obvious places: under her pillow, under her mattress, in her desk drawer, behind a curtain, letting Yara think she'd done a thorough enough search and found them all. But once Yara left, Arami threw on her clothes, hopped through her window, and climbed one of the orange trees.
Retrieving her favorite book from the branches above, Arami tucked herself against the tree and read herself to sleep by the light of a full moon.
…
Back to business as usual, making promises to make time for each other before Solus went south on a survey and Olaia ran through next year's budget in Council. Back to spending the nights before and after a survey together, like clockwork. A escape from responsibility that still somehow felt like duty, a drill so familiar it was second nature, catching each other up on recent events in between kisses and moans. No warning needed when the end was near—they knew by touch when it was time. First Olaia, glad to release some frustration, then Solus following in her wake, finishing in her hand or her mouth if he was lucky. They didn't need a second child. Not when neither of them, even armed with an entire palace staff, could keep just one out of trouble.
…
Daravi didn't like Solus' proposal. He hated it, in fact, but he owed his brother a favor.
"You have three weeks, Solus. If you're not back in three weeks, I'm disbanding Council and declaring myself king."
"You'd hate that."
"I'd do it purely to spite you."
…
Olaia nearly bumped into Solus as she left her room just after dawn. "Gods, Solus! How many times do I have to tell you to give me some warning?"
"Come," he said, taking her hand in his.
"Where are we going? I thought you were on your way south this morning."
"I am," he answered. "And so are you."
She stopped. "Wait, what?"
Solus tugged on her arm. "Walk and talk. We're already behind."
"I'm not packed."
"I packed for you."
"Is that why I couldn't find my blue kaftan this morning?"
"It's your favorite," he replied, as if that explained the theft.
"As intrigued as I am, I think you're forgetting that I'm still running the budget through Council. I can't fly off on a whim."
"I've taken care of it."
"Dear gods, Solus, don't tell me you asked Daravi—"
"Daravi can manage Council for a couple of weeks."
"He's going to give himself a cut of the budget and call it a stewardship fee or something."
"You're the one that made him steward."
"Solus…"
He stopped and turned on her. "I remember a time when you'd be champing at the bit for a chance to leave."
"That was before I had to worry if Daravi or Arami would burn the city down first."
"Are you telling me you'd rather stay here? That you're not tired of routine?"
Olaia hesitated under Solus' pointed gaze. "Fine. But you can't be mysterious about this. Where exactly are we going and what exactly are we doing?"
"Fort Slagstone. One of the Five has reached out to Captain Tarvus. He wants to meet with us."
"Who?"
"My old captain. Olamur."
"Oh, fuck me," Olaia groaned.
…
Red Titan stayed behind, happy to spend his remaining years cantering around the palace grounds with Arami on his back. The scrawny six-year-old handled Red as well as her mother and father and Red was so protective of his young rider that neither Olaia nor Solus worried about letting her ride their beloved steed.
Solus' new mount was a sturdy young charger that rivaled Red in stature, though he had a much more approachable nature. Olaia had, predictably, named the handsome blue roan Blue.
Solus protesting, "I'm not calling him Blue."
"Come here, Blue."
Blue responding, prancing right up to the paddock gate and nosing Olaia's hand.
No choice for Solus but to admit defeat.
Olaia would never admit she'd spent the previous week teaching Blue his name before gifting him to Solus.
Now they rode south, just Solus, Olaia, and the horses. No need for the vanguard, no need for a long caravan. Better to move quickly and discreetly. She clenched and unclenched her left hand as they rode, fingers stiff. Glancing down, she counted the pale crisscross of scars on her hand, a painful reminder of the last time she'd faced Olamur.
"Hand sore?" Solus nodded at her hand.
"What do you think your old captain wants?"
"I'm not sure. Olamur was always difficult to read."
"How's your Dursian?" Olaia asked in Dursian.
"Rusty," Solus responded in kind.
"We should practice."
"It'll put a damper on my conversation," he warned her.
"I doubt I'll know the difference. You're already a man of few words."
"And now I'm a man of fewer words." Solus squinted at the setting sun. "This is a good place to camp."
"Firewood or food?" she asked.
"I'll do firewood."
Soon the fragrance of desert juniper and stew rose into the darkening sky, the queen and her champion reclining by the fire. Occasionally, Solus gave the stew a stir, while Olaia stared up at the stars.
"Gods, I almost forgot what it's like to be out in the desert," she mused.
"Cold and dry."
Grinning, Olaia turned back to the stars. "Do you know any Dursian constellations?" she asked, forgetting the word for constellations and calling them "star shapes" instead.
Solus moved a little closer and pointed. "You see those stars there?"
Olaia leaned into him. "Those?"
He guided her hand. "Five stars. The first allcaptains."
"Huh."
"And that one there?"
"Yes?"
"The constant star."
Olaia turned to look at him. "You're more familiar with Dursian stars than Numaian ones."
"Stars are important to Dursians. They navigate by them. They depend on them. And I grew up on a Dursian ship."
"Sailing by the stars, stealing stuff…" she sighed wistfully. "I almost wish I was Dursian."
"You'd make an excellent pirate."
"Because I'm quick and crafty?"
"Because you thrive in chaos." "Chaos" came out as "big mess," but Olaia knew what he meant.
Laughing, she lost herself in the sky's expanse for a few minutes and tucked herself snugly into Solus' warmth. When she cast him a stray glance, she caught him smiling at her like he knew something she didn't.
"What?"
Solus shook his head and brushed her hair back, tugging gently on a loose strand. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.
Even after eight years of marriage, Olaia still felt her face flush with heat. "Are you going to do something about it?" She teased him with a soft kiss, which he returned with surprising eagerness.
A deeper, longer kiss, then more.
"Mm, Solus," she encouraged him.
Solus pressed her onto her bedroll. Years later, she still brought her own, even though they both knew she'd end up in his once night's chill set in. Her hands climbed his neck, her tongue tangled with his, the space between them closing until their bodies ground against each other.
This was what Olaia wanted. Stars and a fire, burning—
"Shit!" She sat up abruptly, nearly slamming her head against his. "The stew!"
The stew was only slightly burnt. The mood, however, had passed. Once they'd eaten, they scoured their plates clean and bedded down. Olaia didn't even pretend she was going to sleep in her own bedroll. She just tucked it under Solus' for a little extra padding.
He held her close and gave her short, lazy kisses.
"Is it bad that I just want a good night's sleep?" she asked after a moment.
"Now you see reason," Solus teased, but he didn't argue. "Let's sleep then. We have plenty of time for other pursuits later."
Olaia, already fading, sighed and sank into him. "Tonight we pursue sleep," she agreed.
…
"You think Yara's going to be all right with Arami on her own?" Olaia asked the next morning.
"Don't worry, Yara won't have to manage her alone. I told Arami she could train with the vanguard for a week. Suske will keep her busy and give Yara a break."
"Solus, she's six."
"Zabi—"
"I know our daughter's precocious but, at the risk of repeating myself, she's six."
"I'd started sparring lessons by the time I was six."
"Are we recruiting six-year-olds now? Are we that desperate?"
"Would you prefer to besiege her with language and etiquette tutors all day? She's only six, my love."
Olaia's face softened. "Well, I suppose I can trust them not to put cactus burrs in her bed. Unlike me, she's well-liked."
…
They rode into Fort Slagstone late on the fourth day.
Captain Tarvus greeted them with a weary smile. "Champion. Your highness."
"Where's Olamur?" Solus asked, dismounting.
"Awaiting word of your arrival. Shall I send it?"
"Yes. I'll do my inspection while we wait."
"Of course, commander. I trust you'll find everything in proper shape like last year."
Solus gave the man a nod and turned to Olaia, eyebrow raised.
"I'm going to inspect whatever's baking in the kitchens."
"Go on then." He nodded toward the kitchens. "I'll take the horses."
The ovens still blazed when Olaia ducked through the kitchen door; they would continue to burn late through the night, warming the baths that sat atop them. Keeping her head down, she slipped through the bustle of post-meal cleanup and had just dipped her little finger in the remnants of a thick gravy when a voice called from across the kitchen.
"Lala! I mean, your highness!"
Olaia turned, both chagrinned and perplexed.
"It's Dorien!" he shouted through a grin. "From Amara!"
"Dorien!" she called back, pleased to see a familiar face. "Where's your other half?"
"Aturo's on patrol down the coast. He'll hate that he wasn't here to see you."
"And your family? Have you been sending letters home?"
The young man looked quite pleased with himself as he announced, "I'm writing them myself now."
Olaia clapped a hand on his back. "Who's the saint with the patience to teach you to write?"
"Aturo. And he learned from the quartermaster. He teaches us in his spare time."
"Huh," she marveled, vaguely recalling a conversation about letters she'd had with the twins' mother over dinner years ago.
"My father's still sore Aturo and I decided to be soldiers instead of sheepherders. He says you owe him two good sheepherders."
"Ha! He'll have to talk to Solus about that."
"He's been wanting an excuse. He still tells the story about how he obliterated an entire regiment of Aldanian soldiers dressed as bandits with the queen and her champion. It gets more unbelievable every time he tells it."
Olaia laughed. "Let him brag a little. He did save my life."
"Yeah, I don't believe that one either."
…
Solus found Olaia the better part of an hour later, leading half the kitchen staff and quite a few soldiers—all drunk—in a bawdy tavern song. He exchanged a humorous glance with Tarvus, declined the offer of a drink, and stopped by the stables to give Lightning and Blue a treat. The light and song from the kitchens spilled out into the courtyard as he crossed.
He smiled to himself. Olaia was still a queen of the people, more comfortable in a kitchen than a palace.
…
She crawled into bed well after midnight.
"I made a mistake," she moaned.
"I know." Half-asleep, Solus threw the blanket over her and mumbled, "There's a bucket in the washroom."
"I talked to Tarvus…"
"Mm-hmm."
"…about the net."
"Hm."
"He's looking forward to—"
Olaia didn't finish. She spent the rest of the night making friends with the bucket.
…
Morning came too early. Olaia woke with a stabbing headache that nearly blinded her good eye. "Dear gods."
"That's the sound of regret." Solus held out a mug of hot tea. "Sip on this."
Olaia accepted it with a grimace, inhaling the earthy green aroma and toasting him. "My champion." After a few ginger sips, she managed to ask, "Word from Olamur yet?"
"Early this morning. He'd like us to meet him on his ship."
She squinted up at Solus. "That sounds like a great way to be abducted and held for ransom."
"I don't trust him either. We could send a counteroffer and meet him somewhere safer."
"Saltspire?"
"My thoughts exactly. What do you think?"
"Sure. In the meantime, I'll…" she sniffed herself "…bathe."
…
By midmorning, Olaia felt more or less like a human being again. She'd joined Solus on the wall overlooking the bay when Olamur's reply arrived.
"He's agreed to Saltspire!" Tarvus called down from the rookery.
"Is the fishing gear ready?" Olaia shouted back.
"Awaiting the signal."
"Good!" She turned to Solus and grumbled, "Let's get this over with."
…
Saltspire. A city on a tidal island. With high cliffs defending it from the sea, it was only accessible by land twice a day during low tide. Practically a fortress of its own, the city was a rich source of trade for Qutania. Solus couldn't blame the Dursians for wanting it.
Olamur and two of his sailors met them on the docks. His hair was now completely white, the lines on his face deep, but he still carried himself with measured strength. Solus watched his old captain closely, keeping his guard up.
"Ah, the bullheaded boy returns," Olamur greeted him with a small smile. "It's been some time since I saw you last."
"Captain." Solus inclined his head. "You said you wanted to meet. Why?"
Olamur didn't respond. Turning to Olaia, the Dursian captain murmured, "I was there when your husband led the final charge against your father's army."
"Most of my father's soldiers had deserted by then. They were with me in the mountains. We got our revenge." She smiled and added, "But I doubt you came all this way and demanded an audience with us just to pick at old wounds."
"Your Dursian is still sharp, I see," Olamur noted. He looked at Solus. "And you, boy? Where's your arm?"
"A game of fingore gone terribly wrong," Solus deadpanned.
Olamur laughed. "You still won, I suppose, or you wouldn't be here."
"You haven't answered my question, captain."
"Ah, yes. In fact, my visit actually involves a game of fingore."
"I'm not playing you again," Olaia quickly interjected.
"No, girl, we already played and, if I remember correctly, you still owe me a favor."
"If I remember correctly, you cheated."
"The fault's yours for trusting a pirate."
"Let me guess. You want Saltspire."
Olamur's smile grew wide and flat. "I want Saltspire."
Olaia scoffed. "You're not getting it."
Unnerved by Olamur's bold admission, troubled by his confidence, Solus glanced around and noticed that the busy docks had suddenly gotten quiet.
All part of the plan.
"Zabi," he warned in a low growl.
"What—?" she cut herself short when she noticed the too-friendly faces that were closing in on them. "Oh, fuck me."
Olamur laughed. "Did you think I'd come here with some half-cocked plan, boy? I've been slipping my people into the city for the past month. Saltspire's already mine in everything but paper, Offortun."
"What did you call him?"
Solus explained, "It means 'unlucky.'"
"You're the unlucky one."
"I was."
"Great."
"I suggest you come willingly," Olamur interjected. "You may be skilled, but believe me, I have you well outnumbered, and I only need one of you for ransom."
Solus and Olaia exchanged a glance. She shrugged.
He turned to Olamur. "Very well."
"Time to test my special project," she muttered to Solus as Olamur's men bound her wrists and tied Solus' arm to his torso.
"Stop talking about your secret project."
"You're the one who just said 'secret' in a mysterious whisper."
Solus let out a sigh of longsuffering.
"How long do you think we'll be on the ship? Less than five minutes."
"Five minutes?"
"Five."
"I'll take that wager."
…
"I nearly forgot how big these longships really are," Solus murmured once they'd boarded Olamur's ship. There was almost a hint of awe in his voice.
Olaia turned to Olamur as he hopped onto the deck. "So, what…you ransom us for Saltspire?" she asked. "It's not exactly original. It's not even that clever."
"There's wisdom in simplicity," Olamur responded absently, pulling his spyglass free and eyeing the strait. "Raise anchor!"
"I wouldn't even bother," sighed Olaia. "Daravi will never give you Saltspire. He owns half of it. Counteroffer, we just sail away with you right now. You could use another hand or three."
"Don't you have a child?"
"Gods damn," she laughed. "That does put a wrench in my plan to run away, doesn't it?"
"Captain! The strait!"
Olamur raised his spyglass once more.
A massive net of iron chains began to rise from the water, dripping long ropes of seagrass. The heavy chains sagged in the middle; it would take a few minutes to completely cut off the strait, but a few minutes was all a swift ship like Olamur's needed.
"You'd better hurry," she told the captain, her bonds already loose. Solus' binding snapped under her knife. "You can probably shoot that gap in the middle before the net catches you. Or, you can waste time trying to catch—"
Solus didn't let her finish, impatiently tossing her overboard and following immediately.
To Olaia's relief, the inlet was calm, the waves gentle, the current weak. Olamur made the wise choice and left them to fend for themselves while he and his men scrambled to escape over the middle part of the net, which cleared the surface just seconds after his ship had crossed.
"Looks like he earned his freedom today," she noted, catching the sunlight on the cover of her pocket watch and signaling the shore. "I told you pocket watches are useful."
"It won't tell time now that it's gotten wet."
Olaia scoffed. "It stopped telling time ages ago." Squinting, she asked, "Do you think that whole exchange on the ship was longer or shorter than five minutes?"
"I wasn't counting."
"Eh, we didn't wager anything anyway." She signaled with her pocketwatch again. "Anamis had better hurry up and find us. I think I just floated into some stinging kelp."
…
On land again, Solus instructed Anamis, captain of the city guard, to comb through Saltspire and capture any remaining Dursians. "I think the city's safe for a while," he murmured to Olaia.
Olaia let out a short laugh. "Every Dursian from here to the Alluvian will know about my new fishing gear by the end of the week."
"You've had many good ideas, but this one is a personal favorite."
She sighed and crossed her arms with satisfaction, wincing a little at the sting of the stinging kelp rash. "I think you'll like my next idea better."
…
They both sank into the baths atop Slagstone's ovens when they returned. Solus looked at the stings on Olaia's limbs as he finished up.
"At least they're mild," she said.
"Soak these a little longer. I'll fetch some salve and meet you in the bedroom."
She sighed and sank into the water. "If I'm not there soon, I've fallen asleep."
Solus chuckled. "Not yet. I have plans for you."
Olaia opened her eye, brow raised. "Now I'm intrigued."
"Soak."
She gave him a head start and waited as long as she could before she couldn't bear the anticipation. Climbing out, she threw on her robe and scurried across the courtyard, taking a brief detour through the stables, hoping nobody was there to see her.
Just horses.
She breathed a sigh of relief and lifted a length of linen rope from its hook before hurrying away.
Solus was already waiting for her on the bed. He sat up when she entered. "Come, let's tend to your stings."
Olaia set the rope on a table as she crossed and sat beside Solus. He quietly rubbed the salve into her arms and legs and bandaged them with soft, clean cotton.
"You look like you could use a backrub," he murmured in her ear as he finished.
"Absolutely." She threw herself onto her front, burying her face in a pillow.
Solus touched her back, fingers light then heavy, working out a knot between her shoulders, slowly trailing lower, and lower, and lower.
Olaia pushed herself up on her elbows. "That's not my back."
He squeezed her bottom. "I'll rub your front too if you like."
Olaia rolled with a grin. "You don't mind that I'm half-mummified?"
"The important parts are fine." Like before, he kept his hand light at first, working up to teasing, squeezing, kissing, taking his time, making her moan happily.
"Mm, it's been too long, my love."
He kissed her sternum, rested his chin between her breasts, and whispered, "Tell me what you want."
"I want to tie you up."
Solus raised his eyebrows. "I wondered why you came in with rope. What brought this on?"
"When Olamur had you tied up, all I could think about was what I'd do to you."
His cheeks flushed a pleasant shade of pink. "Now I'm intrigued," he murmured, sitting up and letting her rise.
As soon as she joined him in bed again, she bound him the way Olamur's pirates had and tested the knot. "How's this?"
Solus struggled a little. "Good."
She pressed her lips to his neck and whispered, "On your front then, champion."
He did as she said.
She jostled him. "Looks like I finally have you to myself. Captain says I'm to guard you here in the brig."
"Comfortable brig," Solus noted.
Olaia spanked him, earning a surprised groan, and growled in his ear, "Let's get this straight. While you're here, you do what I say. Now I don't remember telling you to run your mouth."
Solus rumbled with laughter. "You're calling me mouthy?"
She dug a knuckle into his kidney. "I'll be calling you worse if you don't shut up." Luckily for her, he couldn't see the way his shiver made her flush. "Do we understand each other?"
He grunted.
Olaia bit his earlobe. "Good man. Turn and face me."
With Solus on his back, she ran a finger down his stomach, plucking at each strand of rope as she went, feeling his muscles twitching and jumping at her touch. He watched her intently, egging her on with a barely hidden smile.
Stroking the side of his face, she whispered against the corner of his mouth, "Now why don't you convince me to let you go?"
He didn't need more encouragement. He kissed her until she had to pull away breathlessly.
"Somebody's eager," she chuckled.
"I'll show you eager if you untie me."
"Not yet."
She dragged her body down his, rewarding each moan with a love bite, leaving one trail down his stomach and a second up his thigh. Her finger ghosted up his throbbing length. "What would you do for a kiss here, champion?"
Solus made a delightful sound she'd never heard, close to but not quite a whimper. "By the goddess, Zabi, you'll end me."
She looked up with a sideways grin. "Are you enjoying this as much as I am?"
"More."
"Show me." Slowly, she untied him, their eyes locked the whole time.
As soon as he was free, Solus pinned her on her back. "First, my revenge, wicked girl."
A moment later, he'd descended between her thighs and found her with his eager, attentive tongue. She vocalized her approval. "Mm, that's…yes, that's very convincing. Keep this up and—ooh—I might just let you go."
"Mm," he growled in return, fingertips digging into her hip.
He waited until she was on the brink of finishing and suddenly pulled away, slapping her with just enough sting to push her back from the edge.
"Gods, you're ruthless," she gasped.
"You think that was ruthless?" he scoffed. "You couldn't handle ruthless."
"Try me."
"Believe me, you don't want ruthless."
"I want ruthless."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Smiling, Solus gave her a short, soft kiss, retreating before she could pull him into a deeper one. He placed a finger over her protests. "Beg for me," he whispered.
Olaia shivered audibly, but her voice was firm. "No."
"Beg," he quietly insisted.
"Make me."
Solus sat up and slid toward the edge of the bed. "No need. I can wait. Tomorrow night, perhaps."
"You wouldn't."
Fishing his robe from the floor, he'd slipped his arm through the sleeve before Olaia surrendered.
"All right! All right!"
"What was that?"
"Please?"
Solus cocked his head at her, not even bothering to hide his smug smile anymore. "Convince me."
"Please."
His robe dropped. Without further hesitation, he climbed over her, pushed her legs roughly apart, and drove himself into her.
"Fuck!" she groaned loudly.
"Hush!" Solus hissed, stifling a laugh. "Thin walls!"
She tried to keep quiet, but by the end they'd both given up, dissolving into laughter as soon as they collapsed.
Olaia pulled him into a solid kiss. "That was good, Bull."
"Very good," he agreed, squeezing her and purring, "You gave in so quickly."
"Shut up."
…
One of those long, late-night conversations, no need for updates on the latest disaster in Council or bad news from the south, none of the usual business they conducted across the pillow. The topic of this conversation was meandering and unimportant. It would be forgotten in the morning, but the soft fingertips on her back and the gentle whisper against her brow wouldn't, neither would the toes tickling his calf or the quiet laughter in his ear.
…
The sun was just settling in the cradle of the western mountains when Solus spotted the spires of Quriba.
"I won't lie, I'm looking forward to a bath," he grunted.
"I'm looking forward to a foot rub."
"I'm not touching them if you don't scrub them first."
An offended scoff. "They're not that bad."
"Even Arami would be offended by your feet right now."
"You have just lost the privilege of touching my feet tonight."
Solus laughed. "Let's get home. I want to talk to the stablemaster about some rope."
"Try the master of the wardrobe instead. Get some of that silky tapestry stuff."
He spurred Blue forward. "I like the sound of that."
They raced home. Lightning lived up to his name.