Two Eyes Cenote Burrowing

That Akavir might feel anything other than an abiding relief had not occurred to her. She’d long ago accepted that this was the part she played, that during the day she would pour wine and scrub floors and at night she belonged to soldiers or visiting nobility or kings. She had taken so many to bed, none who had kissed her without the intent to stave off the pains of a truer love, or looked into her muted eyes and dreamed they weren’t some regal hue. But in this moment the tension she feels in him seems distant from this notion, and as he whispers tears come to wet her cheeks.

He shifts, opening a space in his arms like the one she hadn’t known she had until it was empty. She moves to be held by him, unguarded, looking up into the face tinged by grief which brought to it a thoughtful, deepening grace. She felt safe there.

“I do not regret you,” breathing, Eset searches his eyes. The hebsut can smell him, hyacinth and egyptian oils used on his fur. Beneath it, the scent of the creek faded.