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I sank into the bathtub with a contented sigh. Whatever came next, I was going to enjoy this moment.

If there was one positive thing about the end of the world, it was that I had learned to appreciate the calm times in between the battles for survival.

The me from before would spend this bath time worrying about the upcoming clash with the gargoyle king.

The me of today was going to relish the hot water against my skin and the serenity of floating on the surface as the stars shone bright above.

Free of thoughts about danger and death for the first time in months. If only I could stay here forever…

A knock echoed through the bathroom.

I pushed up into a sitting position, heart pounding.

“My lady? It is me.”

I relaxed a fraction. “Yes, Samuin?”

“Just letting you know that you have time,” his voice reached me through the door. “My liege told me to inform you that once he visits the families of the fallen, he will bathe in the harem. This bathtub is all yours to take your pleasure in.”

Funny choice of words there. “How generous of him.”

“My liege also said that once he joins you in the bedchamber, as late as it may be, he will keep his word of bringing you to ecstasy a myriad of times. It will simply happen after the moon reaches its highest point. End of message.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or panic. “I’m sure he used exactly those words,” I muttered under my breath. No way could I forget Xaniban’s promise made in front of a courtyard of warriors. Gargoyles, apparently, were pretty open about intimate stuff.

“He did, my lady. I memorize each order my liege gives.”

Gargoyles also had a heightened sense of hearing. I would do well to remember that. “Thank you, Samuin.”

“Enjoy the night.”

“Sure.”

I immediately grabbed the jelly-like soap and began scrubbing the filth off my hair and body. Relaxation time was over; I had to finish up here so I could put in action my horny-gargoyle-king deterrence plan.

For starters, I should not get squeaky-clean, since Xaniban kept insisting I bathe, but I decided I would allow myself the luxury.

I would, however, put my old clothes on after giving them a quick rinse.

That should leave me looking and smelling dirty enough.

If I lost my clothes in the upcoming battle, my unshaven legs should form a second shield against the king’s intentions.

I couldn’t imagine Gargoyles, being body hair-free, staying enthusiastic at the sight of the jungle I was sporting.

A few minutes later, I was out of the bathroom and on my way to choose a sword from the wall collection.

I still had my army knife, but I wouldn’t convince the seven-foot-tall Xaniban I meant business with that toothpick.

I needed something long and sharp to keep him at bay and convince him that my no meant no.

As I crossed the room, I noticed it was warmer than before and the lights in the cloudy ceiling were dimmed. Candles were lit in strategic places, casting a gentle glow over the room. Samuin had set the mood, alright.

Halfway to my destination, I stopped and did a double take.

Placed by the balcony door was the chaise lounge he had mentioned.

It was an old-looking piece of furniture with a dark-green fabric cover, gold-yellow twisted cord trims, and carved fruit motifs on the backrest. On that chaise lay a two-piece outfit impossible to ignore.

This so-called robe could meet the Sub-Zero fetish of any Mortal Kombat fan.

The lower piece was similar to the rectangular loincloths everyone here wore, except the hem was arrow-shaped.

A closer look revealed integrated blue panties of a softer material and delicate laces on either side of the integrated belt to fasten the clothing in place.

The upper piece was a crop top with wide shoulder straps and a boat neckline of the same leather the loincloth was made of.

However, downward the navy-blue fabric gave way to an intricate fishnet of shiny blue threads.

A fishnet. Over my bare breasts. If I wore that, as tightly-woven as the fishnet may be, my nipples would still be playing peek-a-boo with anyone looking too closely.

Me putting that on? Pigs might start flying first.

I returned to my sword shopping more determined than ever.

Unfortunately for me, the weapons I could reach were older, judging by their rusty blades and worn-out handles.

One clash with Xaniban’s sword, and I risked remaining with a broken blade.

The only sword that was neither rusty nor blunt was much heavier than the king’s. Fuck. It would have to do.

I rested my new weapon against the chaise and went to explore the balcony door. What if this was my way out of the palace? I could go beyond the palace walls and find one of those humans Samuin had mentioned, or a gargoyle willing to take me back home. It was worth trying.

My hand met a solid, cool surface. The door must be closed. I tried pushing with both hands but it didn’t budge. I slid my palms along the cloud in the hopes of finding some kind of a lock. That was when the blue surface turned transparent.

The view left me in awe. The balcony was so high up I could see the top of the defensive wall and what lay beyond the palace grounds.

Thousands of little lights illuminated the streets and low-rise buildings of a city.

It went on and on, as far as the eye could see, with dark patches here and there that must be parks.

Above the city was the sky, traversed by winged shapes; I distinguished them only thanks to the disappearance of patches of stars.

There were gargoyles in the streets as well, their wings visible under the soft streetlights despite the distance.

No humans out there, at least not at this hour.

Then the unexpected happened.

A palace guard landed on the wall walk opposite the balcony, his back to me.

He waved at someone beyond the wall and flew down there, out of my line of sight.

When he returned, there was a human in his arms. A woman not much older than myself, if the torchlight on the wall walk wasn’t playing tricks on my eyes.

She wore the same outfit Samuin had brought for me, but hers was black, like the guard’s.

She was holding a basket, and once the gargoyle put her down, she pulled what looked like a sandwich from inside.

The guard was given the food and a quick kiss on the lips.

His reaction? A playful slap on the woman’s rear.

The woman gave him another kiss, this one longer and passionate, after which they sat down, their backs to me.

I saw him break the sandwich in two and hand her one half of it, which earned him a smack upside the head.

The woman then pulled a second sandwich out of the basket, this one for her.

He rubbed the smacked spot, threw his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her closer until her head rested on his shoulder.

They began their dinner, the whole city at their feet.

I stepped away from the balcony door. They deserved their privacy.

Besides, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing.

Such happiness couldn’t be found on the ground.

Not anymore. There wasn’t time for carefree tenderness, because any moment of distraction could mean death.

Love wasn’t impossible; it was simply deadly.

I suddenly felt so tired that I couldn’t stand on my feet any longer. I went to sit on the edge of the chaise, pushing the robe aside. What was the point of surviving the apocalypses if we weren’t truly living? Why fight to stay alive in this new, nightmarish world?

Hope. That was what kept me going, I suppose. Hope that things might get better, that they could go back to normal and I’d get to find my friends from before civilization’s fall. It was silly, but I held on to hope.

And now, though I had my hand around the sword handle, I felt hopeful that I wouldn’t have to use it.

That the gargoyle who had brought me to safety wouldn’t hurt me.

Instead, he would tell me why the apocalypses had occurred and whether he planned to do more about them once his zombie enemy was defeated.

Perhaps, he would not only take me back to my community but also help us survive.

So, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My back began to hurt from sitting on the edge, so I shifted until I was resting on the elevated end of the chaise. For a moment there, I imagined myself as an Ancient Roman at a feast, with grapes between my fingers instead of a sword handle.

Who knew, maybe this furniture was as ancient as the Roman Empire. How long had Gargoyles existed as a species? What was the average life expectancy of a gargoyle? So many questions to ask–I felt dizzy just thinking about it.

Hand still on the sword handle, I got more comfortable, with my head on the backrest and bare feet up on the chaise. Its fabric was so soft against my skin, like a velvety caress. So nice and warm. Cozy, too… And safe from creatures trying to eat me…

I could let myself relax… for just a few… more seconds… No harm… done… in enjoying… the feel… of…

Warmth… at my back… and belly… Cloud-like pillow… under my cheek–

Pillow?

My eyes shot open. Where was I lying? When had I closed my eyes?

The last thing I remembered was looking at the bed at the opposite side of the room. Now I was on that bed, facing the wall of swords. Hanging there was the blade I had been holding what felt like a second ago. And the very person I needed that sword to protect myself from? He was spooning me.