[Reminder: This story contains explicit sensual content, violence, mature themes, and references to trauma/abuse. Reader discretion is advised.]
Having drenched her clothes in sweat and knowing Bazil had other matters to tend to, she stripped down, washed herself and her clothes, and slipped into a veil of undergarments. All before drying off on a flat rock overlooking the river.
She really did try to meditate, having taken that kick to the gut as a sign from the late Magi Inio to practice what he taught her. Yet each time, her focus broke.
Whenever she got a clear path, it seemed to urge her to open that book. She inhaled deeply and let her mind sway into flow.
Before she knew it, she had imagined herself as a tiger roaming through the realm, happening upon other tigers.
On her path, she met more wildcats, some of which seemed familiar and some not. Then at the bridge of the realm, a shadow fell upon her, its presence heavy.
She crouched back then glanced up and saw…
Her mind went blank at the crackle of a fire.
Many hours had passed. She turned to the orange glean of the skies, misting as the last of the sun sank into the arcing mountains.
Salīa found her oil-cloth pants had dried and only the tunic needed more wringing. She twisted it out, feeling eyes on her.
It was Bazil, who innocently ambled over, having made her dinner with medicine to ease her ache.
Yet the moment he saw her skin, mostly barely, and only lightly veiled with what wasn't, he froze.
At first, he just found it amusing. Since it seemed that what he said to her at the beginning of the journey was still true even near the end of it.
Salīa could still not keep on clothes, because she always dyed them in mud and covered herself in bruises.
But then his eyes traced over what new bruises found her, and some of them travelled down her bare breasts, welcoming other thoughts.
He stared for a while before she caught his gaze, then turned, bumping into the tree.
When they were younger, he had seen her chest often, just as she had seen his. They'd play in the gardens and in the muddied roads without covers. But their parents quickly tired of them dirtying it.
So, they soaked in the hot springs and swam naked on the far ends of the Senai Seas. Yet that had been years, and things were different now.
It wasn't uncommon for a Salazāhn to bare their chest, but as time passed, it became more of a ceremonious occasion for a woman to do so, especially one of noble rank or higher.
She didn't tease him about it. Instead, she strolled over to him. Her billowing hair fell behind her shoulders as she stood before him until he faced her.
His jaw kept clicking, and his breathing shallowed.
"You know, Bazil," she whispered, watching his skin prick up. "You can touch me."
They both stood still for a while, the only sound made was from flocks of birds and the sparking fire.
It seemed he couldn't walk away, nor could he face her.
She leaned forward and let the breeze brush her hair against his face. And as if taunting him, she exposed her jugular.
Something snapped within him as he pulled her close, let their naked chests collide.
His eyes flickered hungrily, yet he clenched his fists, trying not to lose himself.
Having learnt before, she pulled him lower and eased him in with kisses to the neck, then the jaw. By the time she reached that spot behind his ear, he had gone wild again.
Next, it was his lips on her neck, jaw, ear. Her heart spiked at the sudden shock. And just as when they sparred, he didn't let her catch her breath.
The kisses were first feathered across her skin, then he added a soft pressure which deepened until she felt he was swallowing her whole.
His hands pulled her, but he kept forcing them away, as if scared to touch where they naturally fell.
With that, she took them and guided them down. His eyes glazed with excitement as her breasts sank and filled his hands, allowing him to massage them. All while he licked under her jaw.
She lightly bit at his shoulder, then kissed it, tasting the warmth of his skin, and trailed her hands up to his spine.
Even in their rush, he stopped kissing her just to touch her heart. She suddenly felt diffident, having her heart beat so fast, all while he stared deeply into his eyes, searching.
They were so close, their breath mingled with each other, that she dared to lean in to taste his lips.
Whatever resolve he had was used to tilt his head back, denying himself. Though the craving persisted, leading him to lift her around his waist and press her against the tree.
They suckled at what parts of their skin they could and pulled each other deeper in, coating their body in the warmth, forgetting the winds, their worries, and any of those who might be watching.
It was just them and the hot, wet grasp of their mouths, their deepening moans, her dripping thighs, and his heavy bulge.
She snuck her hand down to touch it, and he pulled away.
"Salīa," he whispered.
It was that name that made her eyes drip.
She pulled his jaw to hers and tried to kiss him with a violent eagerness, until their lips just brushed. He dodged, letting his mouth find her ear again.
Her breathing hitched as his swept under the back of her hips. Only then did she persist, letting her hand fall back between his legs. He pushed himself away from the tree, licking his lips, doused in each other's salt.
"I can't."
She tried walking to him, but he stumbled back, his head turned again.
"I can't, you're my Queen."
"If I'm your Queen, as you call me, then you can."
"It's because you are my Queen that I can't."
"Bazil," she tried to touch his face, yet he stiffened and retreated.
"I am not worthy, Līa."
This again?
"Your father will soon be the official councilman of the Salazāhn village."
Bazil kept a dubious distance.
"It's true. I know it may be quite distant, but you do have traces of noble blood. Even if not, for a land like ours, strength is not in our blood; it is our blood."
He seemed to hear her words, but let none of them pass. His eyes had become just as impassive as before, and his body just as walled up.
She wasn't sure what to do with the surging feeling of hopelessness that came with him being so cold, after just having warmed up each other.
"Bazil, I mean it. Chief Raino is strong. So, he'll become the ruler of the mainland village as promised upon our return. And then you'll be an official royal descendant and—and—and—"
He saw her tears had made a mirror. His impregnable mind had cracked again at the sight of her sputtering all sorts of words. And so, he finally walked towards her and hugged her.
"I hear you, I do. If all that is to happen, it is only when, as you said, we return. And we'll only return when…" he trailed off, not needing to explain. "Until then, I am just your chosen zazi. And until then, your heart is unsettled. I don't wish to unsettle it more."
"I want you. Don't you want me?" she cupped his face beseechingly.
He kept his head up, taking a pause before he stepped back, turning away.
Then he covered her in his cloak and whispered, "Please, Līa, hear me too."
Those words were all it took to disarm. She was overwhelmed by how flustered her face was, how much her body ached in its cravings, and how hot the rage within her boiled.
It's not that she was too prideful to accept his rejection. Yet after recounting how brash and brazen she was just moments ago, there was nothing left for her to feel.
If she allowed herself to be embarrassed, and rightfully so, it was unlikely she'd ever be able to face him again.
He wasn't entirely sure what she was thinking; he just watched her face shift in and out of different expressions. And he knew she was not the type to readily offer her thoughts at the height of them.
Instead, he prepared her bowl of tomato and potato stew and waited by the fire until her stomach made her give in and walk over. In just a few nimble bites, she started slurping it up, moaning in delight at the flavors.
Bazil smiled to himself.
"Have as much as you want, my Queen," he said sweetly, those last words making her blush.
"Your Queen?" she repeated slowly.
While she loved the way it sounded when he said, having that be her actual title over just a pet name, had her thoughts drifting to her role in Salazā.
Then she thought about other things that she and Bazil hadn't spoken of much since they've traveled.
The more it dawned upon her, the greater these inchoate suspicions became.
"Bazil. I must ask. What—"
A branch snapped.
They shot up.
Shadows emerged from the trees.
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