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F or Filak’s first act as Daisy’s short-term mate, he had apparently decided to… wash her.

He’d sent Julian off with a list of instructions in Aelakesh , and when Julian had returned, he’d been carrying water and a washbasin, and some clean washcloths, too. And as Filak carefully set it all out on the bed, he gave Julian an even longer list of instructions, all of which Julian accepted with surprising magnanimity before leaving again.

It left Daisy finally alone with Filak again, his eyes glinting on hers as he wrung out a washcloth in the basin. And too late, Daisy realized that she was still sprawled fully naked on the bed, with Filak’s mess still smeared and sticky all over her skin. Her white-spattered nipples flushed and peaked, her legs still splayed wide, showing off everything between them, and —

Wait. Something black, radiating up out of her coarse dark hair. Something … new .

Daisy stilled and stared, her breath caught in her throat — because those were… marks . Filak’s marks. The marks she’d felt him making the night before. All those long, waving rays of a sun, drawn in thick black ink, emanating out from her groin over her belly, her thighs, her…

Daisy’s face flushed hot, her body betraying a hard little quake — while above her, Filak shifted back onto his heels between her thighs, and spread her legs further apart. So he could freely look his fill at the sun he’d drawn, his eyes brazenly lingering on the sight.

“ Sólin mín ,” he murmured, with a brief, intent glance up toward Daisy’s face. As if willing her to try and challenge that statement, or to condemn him for staking such an audacious claim upon her. For putting his sign on her most secret vulnerable places.

But curse her, Daisy had committed to this, and she wanted to keep seeing. Keep learning. And without at all meaning to, she even shoved up onto her elbows to look, too. To see the glimpses of that stark black circle, curving amidst her coarse hair, and all those rays extending out from it. The sight of it so bizarre, so obscene, and so… intriguing, somehow, especially once Filak lowered his wet washcloth, and used it to begin gently tracing those new marks. As if showing her each one, each part of the sun he’d given her.

Daisy shivered as he went, as his careful touches broadened into full-on strokes, now wiping away his sticky mess from her skin, leaving only the black sun behind. His movements slow, careful, almost reverent, his eyes hooded and intent on the sight. Saying , without speaking at all, that he would care for her. That he would prove this to her, and show himself a good mate.

And once he’d finished washing her, leaving her skin damp but clean, he set the cloth aside, and reached for something from beside the bed. A rounded glass jar, half-filled with something black and viscous. Something that looked like — ah. His ink .

Daisy’s heart pitched in her chest — what did he want with more ink? — but she just kept watching, waiting, as Filak unstoppered the jar, and dipped his claw inside it. And after a brief, assessing glance up and down Daisy’s bared body, he lowered his ink-dipped claw back to her belly, and began… writing. Making slow, careful movements as his claw gently scratched across her skin, forming those lovely, flowing strokes of Aelakesh script. But keeping them surprisingly neat, too, written in a straight horizontal line below Daisy’s navel, and she stayed silent and still as he began a second line, just as straight and careful as the first.

And the more Filak wrote, the more it began to look like his own marks. His own neat lines of script, written dense and dark all over his body. All of them prayers, Julian had said, a way to speak them strong and unceasing, for all to see and know…

Filak was giving Daisy a prayer? To gods she didn’t know, in a language she didn’t understand?

And maybe this was where she should have stopped him, or at least questioned what he was doing, what he was writing. But then again, she’d agreed to this, right? She wanted to learn. Wanted to see for herself.

So she again held herself still, watching, wondering, until Filak finally drew back again, gazing down at his handiwork with intent lowered eyes. He’d written three even lines of equal length, all in that careful curling script — and on the bottom row, a few of the letters were even connected to the rising rays of her new sun. As if the prayer was part of the sun, or an expansion of it, deepening into something hushed, something sacred.

“What… what does it say?” Daisy finally asked, with a questioning look toward Filak’s face. “ Hvae ?”

Hvae meant what in Aelakesh , another word they’d learned from Rosa’s book, and Filak’s glance upwards was furtive, maybe even shy. “ Tae segir, ” he began, “ ég mun fljótt vinna mér inn traust titt aftur og endurheimta hjarta titt sem mitt eigie .”

Oh. It was that same pledge from before, its familiar words thudding strangely through Daisy’s thoughts. I will prove myself as your mate, and gain you as my own.

But now, all of it was written black and clear on Daisy’s skin, and as she blinked down toward it, she could almost feel the sudden, visceral power in it. The vow made into flesh, into reality, into something they would both often see and touch. Something that would always be there between them now, reminding them both of it, holding Filak to account, binding him to his promise.

But then — Daisy swallowed — the ink would fade. The sun, and the vow. Right ? And how long had Julian said Filak’s inks lasted for? A fortnight? Two weeks?

Daisy’s eyes searched Filak’s face — that surely wasn’t a coincidence, right? And no, no, it wasn’t, based on that look in his eyes, the slight twist on his mouth.

“ Tangae til á morgun ,” he told her, with a wan smile toward her. “ Tangae til sólin kemur .”

Until the morning. Until the sun . Two weeks.

Daisy couldn’t seem to speak, just blinking down toward those striking lovely marks on her skin. Feeling almost bereft, somehow, at the thought of them all fading away forever, just like his vow…

But no. No . Foolish . She was supposed to be careful about this. To not just whirl off into the dream, but to see, and learn, for herself. Right ?

But the silence kept dangling between them, growing thicker with every breath — and Daisy was deeply grateful at the sudden sound of a rap at the door. It was Julian again, wryly smiling toward them, while also holding a familiar large basket in one arm, and a stack of equally familiar books and pamphlets in the other.

“The food you wished for,” he told Filak , as he strode into the room, and set the basket on the bed. “ And sister, Rosa asked me to be sure you had your reading from the sickroom, also.”

It was again very generous of him, and Daisy gave him a wavering smile. “ Thank you so much, Julian ,” she said. “ You’ve just been so kind. Will you stay and eat with us?”

Julian hesitated, and it took Daisy an instant to realize that he was blinking down at her belly, at that powerful new promise Filak had written on her skin. “ Ach , mayhap another time,” he replied, with a smile that didn’t look quite genuine. “ I have imposed enough upon you, and you ought to enjoy your first meal together as mates, ach?”

Right. Mates . And amidst the way that word shivered and sang beneath her new marks, Daisy didn’t miss that unhappy glimmer in Julian’s eyes, or the quiver on his mouth. And in a jerky movement, he spun and strode back for the door, his head bowed, his hands clenched. As if he was jealous, or maybe even… hurt? By this? By … them?

Daisy shot a searching look at Filak , the uncertainty edging deeper through her already-floundering thoughts. Why would Julian still be jealous? Was there still something else she should know? Something else Filak hadn’t told her?

But Filak was watching her closely, his head tilting — and then he abruptly reached over, and hauled her naked body over into his warm bare lap. “ Róleg , sólin mín ,” he murmured, as he stroked his hand at her back, and kissed her hair. “ Tetta er bara… Rurik . ”

Rurik. Julian’s ex-lover, right? The one who’d sent those letters? And at Daisy’s next questioning look up toward Filak , he sighed, and wrinkled his nose. “ Rurik var sálufélagi Julians ,” he said. “ Tangae til Rurik — go .”

Go was another word they’d learned in Rosa’s book, and Filak confirmed it with a walking motion of his fingers, moving away. Meaning — what? Rurik had been Julian’s sálufélagi ? His mate? And then he’d left?

“Really?” Daisy demanded. “ Rurik … Julian’s sálufélagi ?”

Filak grimly nodded, and patted at his new vow on Daisy’s belly. “ Rurik fann aera ,” he said flatly, as his other hand pointed at what might have been various imaginary people. “ Gleymdu Julian .”

Oh. It sounded like he meant that Rurik had found other lovers instead of Julian , and forgotten Julian — and Julian himself had said something to that effect too, hadn’t he? And suddenly Daisy only felt a stark, sinking sympathy for Julian , and maybe a whisper of traitorous relief, too. “ Can we help, somehow?” she asked Filak . “ Hjálpa Julian ?”

Hjálpa was help, another word from the book, and warmth flared in Filak’s eyes, even as he huffed an exasperated-sounding sigh. “ ég reyndi ae hjálpa ,” he said, with a meaningful wave between himself, and where Julian had gone — perhaps meaning that he’d already tried to help. “ En Julian vill bara Rurik . Rurik . Rurik !”

He made a sudden, exaggerated frowning face, and dragged his claws down his cheeks in a clear pantomime of tears. And despite Daisy’s still-surging sympathy toward Julian , the sight was so comically ridiculous that a choked laugh escaped her throat — and then Filak was laughing, too. His shoulders shaking, his grin broad and bright and contagious, and for a breath, Daisy felt almost dizzy, blinking toward him. Because she’d never once seen him laugh before, had she? And gods, it was stunning, it was something she wanted to draw and remember forever…

And simmering even stronger in the midst of it was the truth that Filak was again… trying. Showing her that he would be a good mate. Soothing her, sharing information with her, making her laugh. Keeping his word and his vow.

That awareness only deepened as Filak next reached for the basket of food Julian had brought, and began placing various delicious-smelling treats into Daisy’s hands. And though it should have been awkward, eating breakfast while still naked and gathered in his lap like this, it felt surprisingly comfortable, and maybe even reassuring, too.

At least, until Daisy noticed that once again, Filak wasn’t actually eating anything. And instead, he was watching her eat with wide, unblinking eyes, not unlike a lost puppy longing for his dinner.

“ Filak ,” Daisy said, exasperated, as she picked up a slice of buttered bread from the basket, and nudged it against his chest. “ As your mate, am I allowed to ask you to eat with me? Or at least to stop staring at me like that?”

Filak surely hadn’t followed all that, but he sighed, and grimaced, and took the bread. And after a long moment’s staring at it, he snatched a brief, furtive little nibble, as his eyes fluttered closed with obvious pleasure.

“Ach, that’s better,” Daisy told him, with a smile that felt almost fond. “ It’s good, isn’t it? Gott ?”

Filak half-smiled back, and took another furtive bite of the bread. “ Kannski ,” he said, with a wishy-washy gesture that might have meant maybe . “ En gueirnir halda ekki. ”

Daisy hadn’t understood any of that, but she could easily follow the wry reluctance in his voice, that too-hungry look in his eyes. “ You deserve to have things you like, Filak ,” she replied. “ And how are you going to help your people if you don’t eat? Nei borea, nei hjálpa . Ach ?”

Filak’s smile pulled higher, and he took another bite of bread. “ Ef ég borea ekki, get ég ekki hjálpae ,” he said, and it sounded like a correction, like him telling her the proper way to say it — maybe with ekki instead of nei ? — but then he sighed, and took another bite. “ Kannski , sólin mín .”

That definitely sounded like an acknowledgement, grudging as it was, so Daisy gently elbowed him, and passed him some berries. And though he nudged her back, he ate them too, and then told her something else. Something that felt like more grudging capitulation, so Daisy grinned, and thrust the meat toward him, too. And when he complained in Aelakesh , she cheerfully told him in common-tongue to stop complaining, earning what sounded like an irritable curse in return. But then Daisy laughed, and cursed him too, and somehow it led to them both just… talking. Trading words, sentences, entire conversations, back and forth in their own languages, but still mostly following each other. Understanding each other.

It helped that Daisy was already getting a sense of Aelakesh’s rhythms and inflections, and that Filak was just so damned expressive, too. And when they finally did get fully stuck, they again pulled out Rosa’s book, which also had a helpful alphabetical section, to help them translate. And then they worked through a few more pages together as they kept eating, practicing and laughing and teasing each other, until the basket of food was almost entirely empty.

It felt far too easy, like something real mates would do together, and afterwards, Daisy couldn’t seem to stop smiling at Filak , or eyeing his lean naked body. Especially once he slipped out of bed and bent to pick up his trousers off the floor, giving her a vivid view of his firm arse, and his full bollocks hanging between his thighs.

“You like,” he murmured in common-tongue — one of the new phrases he’d just learned — as he flashed her a sly, teasing grin over his shoulder, and yanked on his trousers. “ Fuck after, ach? Ríea á eftir ?”

Daisy couldn’t deny the flush of warmth to her face, or to her groin, either. And she was still smiling at Filak when he plucked up her abandoned shift, and held it out toward her — but then he grimaced, and drew it back again.

“Ach,” he muttered, more to himself than to her — and when Daisy shoved up to look, he was fingering at a large new tear in the shift that certainly hadn’t been there before. “ I am sorry, sólin mín .”

Right. Daisy had almost forgotten that Filak had torn it in bed the night before, but she shrugged, and waved it away. She’d certainly worn far worse over the years, and it wasn’t as if anyone else would see it, right? But next Filak reached for Daisy’s grimy-looking dress, which she’d draped over the nearby chair, and he frowned toward it, too. “ Daisy ,” he said, almost reproachfully. “ Hvar er restin ?”

He gave a purposeful wave toward the dress, and then around the room — asking where the rest of her clothes were, perhaps? And yes, Daisy had packed some clothes, and the satchel had been with her when Filak had locked her in the dungeon… and then what?

And surely Filak had followed that, because the look on his face went regretful, or maybe even guilty. “ I am sorry, sólin mín ,” he said again, as he passed over the dress toward her. “ I fix.”

I fix . Daisy blinked at him, not following, but he was smiling again, the hope glimmering in his eyes. Suggesting that maybe he truly would fix this, prove this, and she would see…

“Come,” he told her. “ We go — shop .”