"Coris, c'mon. You need a bath."
Meya shook Coris's bony shoulder for what she felt was the tenth time, but still, he refused to budge. He knelt at the foot of Beau's freshly covered mound, cradling the greyhound's leather collar with the golden medallion. His other hand laid bare on his knee, sprinkled with Hadrian Rose seeds he'd sown onto the turned earth.
According to Hadrian belief, the flesh of the warriors who had fallen in the name of Hadrian would nourish the seeds. Their blood would give color to the petals of the roses, which the Hadrians would use to dye their fabric. Their spirit would enjoy eternal peace in the green meadows on Freda's Caldera, up on the highest peak of Neverend Heights.
Nearby, stablemen dug graves for the other fallen hounds, now sealed in dog-sized, plain wooden coffins, as Sir Jarl paced about monitoring them.
As everybody else seemed to have their job to do, Meya decided her job was to get Coris back to his room in whichever manner possible before the night chills got to his frail lungs. Even if she had to drag him by the collar, sling him over her shoulder or piggyback him.
"Ugh, get...up! You sack of soggy tomatoes! Corien Alexis Hadrian! You get up this instant!"
Growling through clenched teeth, Meya hooked her hands under Coris's sweaty armpits and heaved with all her might. It was like dragging Myron from his charcoal doodles to dinner.
She raised his meatless bum about half a foot above the earth. Still, his boots dragged before him like banners in a feeble breeze, leaving squiggly trails on the soil.
Meya glanced at the Keep, a towering violet shadow against the night sky, lit here and there by candlelight filtered through stained glass. Coris's chambers were on the uppermost third floor. This would never work.
She spotted Beau's collar, and an idea whizzed into her brain. Quick as a snake's lunge, Meya swiped it out of Coris's hand. He started and spun around, but Meya had pranced five feet away.
His cold silvery eyes narrowed in explosive fury, but Meya was unperturbed as she waved the leather strip tantalizingly,
"This ain't catch. If you want it back, then walk."
Coris frowned deeper in annoyance, but he painstakingly picked himself up. His unsteady legs gave way, but Meya was there to catch his arm when he faltered.
Their eyes met. Meya smiled apologetically as she handed him back the collar. Coris took it with trembling fingers and pressed it flush to his chest. He then allowed Meya to lead him back into the Keep.
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Meya heaved Coris up the last step onto the third-floor landing just in time to catch their door swinging open.
Gretella emerged, empty wicker basket propped on her voluminous hip. She turned around at Meya's call and her sprinting, clattering footsteps.
"Nurse! Have you got the antidote?"
Gretella's strict, lined face unfolded into a warm smile for the first time, even as she tutted in annoyed affection.
"Goodly Freda, he's your husband, not your rag doll. Don't drag him around like that!" She scolded as Meya screeched to a halt before her.
Meya eyed the unconscious Coris, then shone Gretella a sheepish grin. Sighing, Gretella motioned towards the door behind.
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"I've drawn a warm bath. You know what to do."
Though her face betrayed no emotion whatsoever, Gretella's eyes narrowed with the ghost of a sly grin as she glanced insinuatingly at the asleep Coris and then back to Meya.
Meya's cheeks burned as though she had just chomped on Easthaven chili. By the time she came up with a befitting retort, Gretella had drifted halfway down the spiral stairs.
Glancing at the still listless Coris, Meya sighed and pushed open the door. A wave of warm, humid air rushed up to her, billowing from behind the tall Hadrian Red (not again...) curtains hanging from silver railings in the middle of the room.
Thank Freda! A bath! A warm bath in an actual tub!
Meya jiggled Coris against her hip as she rushed inside, yanking the curtains aside with many onerous clangs and jangles. The wooden tub was shrouded behind a cloud of vapor, floating flower petals (not more Hadrian Rose, thank Freda) peeking through its gaps as they sailed idly on the soft currents. The wall of the tub was lined with sponge.
With all the sweat, grime and blood coating her skin like baked honey, Meya itched to strip naked on the spot and dive in. But Coris's cold arm weighed on her shoulder, reminding her of Gretella's command. Worse, Coris was deep in a stupor.
Ugh, fine.
Meya lowered Coris to the floor and propped him against the tub. She snagged clean towels from the garderobe, then spread them on the stone.
She set Coris atop the towels then undressed him. Blood had seeped through his drenched tunic and soiled his torso. She must clean him up before chucking him in the bath, or he'd ruin the whole tub.
Meya soaked a smaller towel in the tub and wiped Coris down, humming absently as she went. Drops of water tainted pink by blood pooled on his ribs then trickled down his sunken stomach. The piteous sight reminded her of Marcus and Myron during the Famine.
He loved food, he'd said. It must be excruciating, hungry and craving to eat but unable to because your bowels were all scorched up. And now, his best buddy had left him.
Haven't you taken enough of my life?
Meya recalled Zier's blank look of horror and guilt. She didn't know what to think, who to blame.
Coris stirred, his eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. His eyes settled on her, then his pale cheeks flushed pink. Meya, busy mopping up the mess, didn't pay it much thought.
"Sure took your sweet Hadrian time, didn't you, my lord."
She ribbed. Coris didn't reply. When Meya finally looked questioningly at him, he smiled awkwardly,
"Ari, you're—" He grasped her hand with the towel on his lower belly, then creaked up a sly smile, "You're arousing me."
"Eh?"
Meya gawked. She followed his glinting eyes to the presence between his legs, then shrieked at the monstrosity.
"Eeeek!"
Coris roared with laughter as Meya scrambled back as if scalded by boiling water. He pushed her flat onto her back and pinned her arms to the icy flagstones, his cold lips devouring hers.
Are you serious? Weren't you just mourning for your dog?
Meya screamed into his mouth as she fought her blossoming desire, strength petering from her flailing limbs. She struggled to rid her mind of the terror she'd just witnessed, but the harder she tried, the memory latched firmer onto her eyeballs. Coris did away with the strings of her corset and snaked his hand beneath her dress, up to the zenith of her legs.
"Coris, wait! I'm all icky!" She cried out between kisses as his icy fingers tickled her through the linen.
"Hmm. Wet and icky." Coris hummed in agreement. Meya wished she would melt into the carpet and stick there like dried wax, but then he dragged his tongue down the curve of her neck, and all she could do was moan and writhe as a painful jolt of bliss coursed through her. "Nothing a bath couldn't take care of."
Coris tore off her dress. Blushing, Meya turned away from his intense stare roaming across every inch of her nakedness. He'd seen it all before; she didn't understand why he was still so enthralled, why she was still so embarrassed. As if to stop her overthinking, he kissed her forehead, then heaved her into his arms with surprising strength.
Meya sighed at his look of determination, anticipating a serving of tender loving. Coris winked, then deposited her unceremoniously in the tub with a colossal splash.
"Oi—Hey!"
Coris snickered, triumphant. Meya had no time to aim a kick at the zenith of his legs before his lips sealed hers again.
"Let me in," He whispered as he knocked on her door. How could she deny? She closed her eyes in surrender. His finger of cold penetrated the water's warm embrace, touching her core.
A hundred questions swirled in her head. She was furious with him for his lies, but the heist was over, Gillian was gone, and relief after intense fear flooded away all the nagging voices.
All she knew was she was glad to be alive, that Coris and everyone else were alive. Now that everything was back to normalcy, she would worry later about what to do next. For now, she would just be Lady Arinel.
It's over. All over. At least for now.
They parted and locked eyes for a fevered breath, then plunged back as one under the waves of passion.