The assailant sprung her attack the moment the door clicked shut. A heavy metal clang rang out as his back smashed into the oaken surface. Rhagre flung a gauntlet out to grab her but she pushed it deftly away and pinned it to his side. With her other hand, she ripped the steel helm off his head—allowing his brown curled locks to fall freely to his shoulders—and leaving his throat completely bare.

He tried to defend, but the onslaught was vicious and indefensible. She planted her first attack upon the side of his neck, nicking his Life's Vein. Then, she slid towards his cheek and hit twice in immediate succession before dropping to his mouth for the final blow, rendering him all but useless.

Rhagre sighed. She smelled of juniper and fresh bread, and tasted of wild raspberry. "Aye, you win. I concede."

She giggled as she removed her lips from his, her taste lingering for moments after. "I've missed ye."

"And I you, my wildflower." He surrendered to another flurry of warm kisses, and then after some time, and with much restraint, gently pulled her away. "I did not expect you to be here tonight."

"Nor I. The other ladies in the kitchen bid me go and surprise ye." Then, seeing the look on his face, she smiled and continued, "Worry not, Rhaggie. I've not told them of who I see. Only that he be handsome," A kiss. "And strong," Another. "And kinder than any man I've ever known." Much time passed in consequent manner.

Or, then again, maybe no time at all. When he was with her time always tended to flow strange, as if her lips could remove the boundaries of past, present, and future. When her spell had ended—momentarily, no doubt—the question he had meant to ask her sprung once again to his lips. "Were you seen?"

The girl sighed and detached herself from Rhagre's embrace. "Nay, Rhaggie. No one seen. I was careful as a critter when I came through yer door. Honest." She tilted her head to the side and placed a milk-white finger to the side of her rose-red lips. "Though yer friend, the one with the oh-so-cold eyes, he were at the stairs when I were coming." Keyreth shivered. "Asked me why I weren't in the kitchen with the other maids, but I made up a tale quick as a cat, Rhaggie!"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A slow trickle of icy cold crawled down Rhagre's spine as she continued.

"Told him I been scolded at. Told him I were in trouble fer spilling the summer soup. Told him I were sent to change the linens of the highknight's beds." She grinned again and pulled her bottom lip low with that same finger. "I do plan to keep my word on that, ye know."

Grey Jael knew. He knew not how, only that it were true.

Those damn, cursed eyes.

For a moment it froze him—still as stone—and then a fire, deep in his gut, began to burn away the cold. "How long ago was this?"

Shakily, she replied, "Not long, Rhaggie. Not more'n a moonstep. Why—"

"Stay here," he commanded. It hurt to see her shrink away from him, but he steeled himself. He could make up for his tone later, but if anything were to happen to her he would never forgive himself. "You're not safe." And then, all of a sudden, Rhagre felt aflame with resolution. A lifetime of questions and confusion and hidden desires honed into a singular ecstatic understanding. He pulsed with the intensity of it. "I'm going to change that."

She took a step back and raised a shaky palm to her mouth. "It's he, isn't it? The man with the oh-so-cold eyes?"

"Aye, it is he." Rhagre saw on her face the gravity of the matter, and was thankful to see resignation as well. She would stay. He stepped forward and placed his hands on her arms, wondering if she could feel the heat through his skin. "I will fix this. Whatever I have to do, we will be together." He leaned in close, brushing her ear with his lips. "And damn the Old Laws."

The girl sank in his grip, surrendered. A shaky tear drew a long line down her sweet-flower face. "Rhaggie. To the sun and stars, I love ye."

"And I y—"

Rhagre was unable to complete his proclamation before her lips were on his once again. Time swelled and sank as the taste of her filled his mouth. Filled his mind.

Seconds, minutes, hours could have passed and he would have sworn it was only an instant.

But time was always a fickle thing on the lips of his wildflower.