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F or the next few days, Daisy focused on drawing. On learning. And , perhaps most importantly, on forgetting about Lew , and his regiment, and his attack.

The first day began with a trip back to the Skyli with Filak and the Restoration Team , seeing all the progress they’d made so far. The huge white cathedral no longer dropped stones on anyone, nothing shook or rumbled, and the team all seemed to be working well together, too, following Filak’s orders without obvious complaints. Surveying and levelling walls and floors, cutting stone and laying tile, and even, it turned out, etching new designs into the cathedral’s white stone walls wherever they had been replaced.

“We need patterns for here, here, and here,” the serious-looking surveyor Soren told Daisy , as he gestured toward the smooth new walls. “ Filak says you are a skilled artist, and could mayhap draw these for us.”

Daisy flushed and glanced toward Filak beside her, but he proudly smiled and nodded, patting her back. While Rosa — who had been nearby, excitedly exploring the Skyli with her sons — snapped her head up, and beamed toward them. “ Yes , Soren , she’s brilliant!” she exclaimed. “ Have you seen the new flyers she drew for me? Or her botanical drawings, or her portraits? You should go see Kesst’s newest portrait, he’s already framed it!”

Filak grimaced at the mention of Kesst , while Soren’s mate William laughed from down the wall. “ Ach , I saw this,” he cut in, with an impish grin toward Daisy . “ And I salute your skill, sister, but I never wish to see this again.”

And perhaps Filak had understood more of that than Daisy might have thought, because he shot a reluctantly grateful look toward William , and nudged Daisy toward the wall. “ No draw for Kesst ,” he said firmly. “ Draw for book. For Skyli .”

Draw for book. For Skyli . And as Daisy’s gaze travelled up the high, smooth white wall, the weight of it seized in her belly, prickled behind her eyes. Filak still thought she was good enough to make that book, and now he also wanted her to draw something to carve in stone. Something that would last possibly hundreds of years, in this place that was so important to him. His home.

So Daisy squeezed him tight, and then happily spent the rest of the day studying the walls’ existing patterns, and sketching drafts of her own to match. And when Soren asked if she could also illustrate a floor plan he’d drafted for the ruined kitchen, she made her best attempt at that too, enough that Soren consulted it repeatedly afterwards — and then, later that day, he asked if she ever took commissions, and if she might be willing to consider a sketch of his mate William for him to keep, too.

Daisy readily agreed, and once they’d finished working for the day, she sat down with William in the cathedral and drew his handsome face, while Filak brooded restlessly around the room, poking at rocks, and casting dark looks over his shoulder. But afterwards, Soren seemed so pleased with the portrait that even Filak looked mollified, especially when Soren dropped a large, heavy coin into Daisy’s hand.

“Oh, that’s too much,” Daisy protested, shaking her head. “ I couldn’t possibly —”

But Filak jerked a decisive nod, and tucked the coin into Daisy’s satchel. And once they’d returned to the mountain again, he presented her with a beautiful, familiar-looking carved chest. The same chest he’d used to offer her the sálugjald — but now it was empty, except for her brand-new coin.

“For Daisy gold,” he told her. “ Keep safe.”

Oh. It was a stark contrast to how things had always worked with Lew , but Daisy could easily see the merit in managing her own coin, especially if she decided to leave. But no, damn it, she wasn’t thinking about that, or about Lew , she still had ten days…

“ Takk fyrir , Filak ,” she said, a little too late, with a smile toward him. “ Now , maybe supper? And then I draw you?”

It was almost comical to see the mingled displeasure and eagerness on Filak’s face — he’d already eaten breakfast and a large lunch together with the rest of the team at the Skyli — but as Daisy had expected, the promise of drawing was an excellent bribe. And once they’d picked up a basket of supper from the lovely cooks in Orc Mountain’s kitchen and returned to their room, Filak allowed Daisy to nudge him onto his back on the bed, with the basket close beside him. And when she gestured for him to eat, he grimaced and obliged, despite the telltale pleasure fluttering his eyes.

But maybe this was exactly what Daisy wanted, with the glower and the pleasure, the dangerous glint of his sharp teeth as he bit into his meat. And once she’d drawn and eaten a bit, too, she let her free hand wander over the distinct bulge in his trousers, stroking and squeezing. And yes, that was even better, and Daisy captured it as thoroughly as she could. The insolent arch of his chin, the hunger and command glittering in his eyes.

It ended with Daisy kneeling between his sprawled thighs, pumping and milking him, until that glossy white seed spewed out all over his belly and chest. And gods, that was a sight, so she drew it too, in elaborate and obscene detail. Until her mouth had gone bone-dry, and Filak brazenly guided her head down, and ordered her in cool, clipped Aelakesh to clean up her mess.

Daisy enthusiastically obliged, and afterwards, Filak drew her up beside him, and again used those still-blunt claws on her. Teasing her and playing with her until she was boneless and quivering, and begging for release. And once he’d finally granted it to her, she heavily collapsed into his warm willing safety, and fell into a deep, contented sleep.

The next day, they did it all over again, except that this time Daisy got to see Soren carving one of her intricate floral designs into the wall with his sharp, glittering steel tools. And it was Thomas who asked for a portrait instead, at his mate Elgr’s request, and Filak only slightly frowned this time, and again popped the proffered coin into Daisy’s satchel. And after lunch, Daisy drew more of the Skyli’s rooms, and some intriguing rock formations she’d found, and then she and Rosa ended up discussing Rosa’s new orc anatomy publication, and working on some sketches together.

It was again a truly delightful day, and the restoration team seemed to be making excellent progress, too — at least, until there was a piercing shout from a nearby corridor. And then Rosa’s brother Salvi burst into the cathedral, dripping wet, with an alarming rush of water racing at his heels. “ The floor!” he hollered. “ I poked it, and — it exploded ! Turned into a river !”

Filak viciously cursed and shouted, and ordered everyone away to higher ground, even as he sprinted off toward the surging water. And after a moment’s glancing around, Daisy shoved her sketchbook into Rosa’s arms, swiped up her lamp, and chased off after him. Not thinking, not having any help to offer, just needing to be with him — and though Filak cursed at her, too, he didn’t send her back, either. And once they’d reached the room with the torrent of pouring water, Filak dragged out a shelf of stone from the wall with a furious wave of his hand, and propped Daisy up onto it. And from there, she watched, her hands clapped over her mouth, as Filak dove into the water again and again, his lean body flashing white in the darkness, until the water began to rapidly pool away around him.

“ Fokk ,” he breathed, once he rose to his feet again, the water streaming off his bare head and shoulders. “ Fokking Salvi , hvers vegna er hann hér —”

He kept going, speaking far too quickly for Daisy to follow, but when she scrambled down to join him, he snarled toward her, and demanded why she hadn’t gone with the others. But there was something about the edge in his voice, the whisper of fear in the air — so Daisy imperiously informed him that she could go wherever the hell she wanted, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

As she’d expected — or even hoped — this led to Filak bending her over a nearby dripping-wet stone table, where he yanked down her trousers, and proceeded to give her a fierce, dizzying punishment. Leaving her arse-cheeks raw and stinging, but gods, it was worth it, especially when he flipped her over and shoved her legs up, so he could keep slapping her, while also furiously pounding himself into her slick hungry heat, too.

But afterwards, he was relaxed and easy again, his eyes wry and tolerant on her face. And when they went out to meet the others again, he only gave Salvi a halfhearted reprimand, and told them all that anyone non-essential needed to stay safe at the mountain tomorrow, so the rest of the team could focus on clearing and checking the drains, and making a thorough assessment of needed repairs.

Daisy joined the others in protesting at this, but Filak was thoroughly unmoved, and once they returned to the mountain that night, he took Daisy down to the dyflissa , and made his point again. This time binding both her hands and feet to the stone wall, and then — at her continued goading — he brought down a slim black item from the wall. A whip , oh gods, with multiple long leather strips dangling from its handle.

Daisy gasped and stared, while Filak coolly carded through the strips with his claws, and raised his brows toward her. “ Ach , sólin mín ?” he asked. “ Ertu stillt núna ?”

Now you behave , it meant, and it was all Daisy could do to keep cursing him, to make him bring that tantalizing leather closer. Until he was trailing it against her skin, watching with distinct satisfaction as she quaked all over, as gooseflesh rippled out in its wake…

“Please, Filak ,” Daisy finally gasped, as stark, feral glee flashed through his eyes — and at the whip’s first gentle, teasing, thrilling strike, she arched and shouted, and again begged for more.

It was another step into darkness, into her devil’s dangerous embrace, trembling and pleading and flinching beneath his command, his correction, his pure merciless dominance. And then beneath his hard, brutal taking, too, his hips punching a rapid rhythm against hers, gouging her into the stone wall behind her, until he stiffened and hissed, and spewed her full of his hot wet hunger.

Afterwards, as Daisy sagged against the wall, a familiar trickle of unease finally edged into her sated swaying thoughts. This was still risky, maybe even dangerous. Filak still thought he had the right to rule her, to break her. And maybe he’d just proven that, maybe she should still be terrified of that, irrational, foolish …

But once Filak had released Daisy from the wall, he carried her off to bed, and then licked over every mark and scrape with intent, focused care. And when morning came, he knelt between her legs and checked her all over again, kissing sweetly at the already-faded whip-marks, and murmuring soft wonderful praises against her skin. Shoving away all the doubts, all of Lew’s awful nagging voice. Eight days.

“Can I come with you today?” Daisy asked once he finished, as her hands traced her own black marks on his lightly stubbled scalp. “ To the Skyli ? Please , myrkrie mitt ?”

But Filak still shook his head, his eyes mild on her face. “ Nei , sólin mín ,” he said. “ You stay. Safe .”

Daisy pouted at him, but he only twitched a half-grin back, and pressed a soft kiss to the vow on her belly, its ink now faded to a soft grey. “ Mayhap next time,” he murmured, “you obey.”

His common-tongue was getting to be far too good — Daisy was now almost certain that he studied while she slept — and when she kept pouting at him, his smile drew higher, and he eased down to kiss between her legs. The feel of it firing a deep shiver all the way up her spine, and the way it looked was just as thrilling — enough that she groped sideways for her sketchbook, and began drawing it, as well as she could with her increasingly unsteady hand. Filak kneeling between her legs, his shadowy eyes hooded and affectionate beneath his lashes as he watched her, as his lips and tongue and teeth teased her and lavished her. Deeper and harder and hotter, until she had to drop the sketchbook entirely, in favour of gripping at his shoulders, and breaking apart on his mouth.

Afterwards, Daisy stared at the sketch for far longer than she meant — it really had turned out to be a very compelling piece — and Filak clearly liked it too, nipping at her neck as he eyed it over her shoulder. “ Put in book,” he told her, with a wicked grin. “ You make with Rosa , ach?”

Make with Rosa . Daisy hadn’t yet told Rosa about the book idea — maybe because that would make it too real, somehow, too impossible to ignore. But once she’d said goodbye to Filak , and met up with Rosa in the communications office, she took a deep breath, and drew up her courage.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, “once we finish your projects — maybe I could try — making a book of — my own. With art. And other things.”

Rosa twitched beside Daisy , blinking at her with wide, piercing blue eyes, and Daisy took a breath, and soldiered on. “ I mean — I only ever published with Lew — with my ex — and it was all botanical and very scientific, and I’m sure no publisher would want me without him, especially on a different topic, but” — she gulped for air — “but I would really like — to try.”

For an instant, Rosa only kept staring at her, and Daisy desperately wished she could take it all back, pretend she’d never even thought such a preposterous thing — but then Rosa crowed aloud, and hurled her arms around Daisy’s shoulders. “ Yes !” she squealed. “ Yes , of course! You have no conception how much I’ve been wanting to pitch the idea to you, but I didn’t want to run you off! We’ve researched you, you know, and you must realize your books are some of the best-selling botanical books in the realm , and your name is just as well-known as your ex’s, if not more! You know it would be such a communications coup to have you publish and distribute a book from Orc Mountain !”

She hadn’t once stopped for breath, her eyes dancing with sheer delight, and Daisy suddenly felt dizzy, blinking at Rosa’s flushed face. Rosa truly — thought such things? She’d researched Daisy ? When ? Why ? And most importantly, she really wanted Daisy to distribute a book from here? She really wanted to be Daisy’s publisher?

But Rosa was now bobbing excitedly on her feet, and a sudden, fervent hopefulness bubbled up in Daisy’s chest. It would be wonderful to make a book with Rosa , and if it was even mildly successful, maybe then Daisy could look into other options to take it further, could maybe even look into a partnership with a publisher in the city…

But — wait. This was all a process that would take many, many months, and Daisy still hadn’t even decided to stay, had she? And there was still Lew’s attack, in — in eight days, right? And she’d heard so little about that attack these past days, she hadn’t heard a thing about armies or evacuation plans, or any updates on Sybil or the regiment, either. And she should ask, she should be worried…

But no. No . She still had time, and she was forgetting about Lew . And she… she trusted Filak . Right ? Trusted Filak , and Rosa , and everyone here, though she hadn’t seen Jule in almost a week now, and…

“What kind of book were you thinking, then?” Rosa’s excited voice cut in. “ Did you have something specific in mind?”

Daisy took a breath, and glanced down at the sketchbook in her hands. “ Well ,” she began, feeling her way as she spoke. “ I’d like it to be — something I’m interested in. Something I’d want to read myself. I do love plants, of course, and I’d still want to include some, but I think broadening the scope would be more… widely appealing. Something with more to it, maybe something like” — she gulped down another breath — “ The Spectacular Sights and Secrets of the Orcish Underworld .”

Gods, it sounded so stupid out loud, the kind of book Lew would instantly call pedestrian, lowbrow, foolish — but Rosa’s hands clasped to her heart, her eyes blazing with alarming brightness. “ Yes ,” she breathed. “ Oh , gods, yes , sister. It will be a marvel. A masterpiece. A true towering Ka -esh triumph!”

Daisy couldn’t help her high-pitched laugh, but it was laced with relief, and gratefulness, and more rising hope, too. Maybe — maybe she could try this. Maybe she really could make this work. Eight days.

She and Rosa spent the rest of the morning discussing ideas, making sketches, and flipping through Daisy’s sketchbook, which now was almost full of drawings from her time here. And if Rosa was shocked by any of Daisy’s more graphic artwork of Filak , she certainly didn’t show it. Instead , they debated the merits and pitfalls of including adult content in the book, and ultimately decided to leave it to Rosa’s anatomy book, so Daisy’s could be accessible to all ages.

“I do like the idea of the book being… a welcome,” Daisy said, as her thoughts flashed back to that first cave where she’d met Filak — the cave that had been meant as a place to meet and share with humans, to prove that there would still be sun below. “ A kind of… light, into the unknown.”

Rosa’s enthusiastic agreement prickled oddly behind Daisy’s eyes, and together they began working through a detailed list of what to include. What outsiders might most like to see and learn about, what might put people most at ease. How Daisy could guide them with her art. Her … seeing.

The rest of the day passed with dizzying speed, and when a dusty-looking Filak appeared at the door, Daisy first gasped with surprise, and then nearly tripped as she rushed over toward him. “ Rosa is helping me make a book!” she told him, once he’d drawn her into his safe steady arms. “ With plants, and rocks, and tunnels, and just — interesting things. Things I saw, and liked, that might help other people, too.”

It again sounded so lacklustre, but Filak’s grin was slow and delighted, showing all his sharp teeth. “ Gott , sólin mín ,” he told her, with a firm kiss to her forehead. “ Good . I am glad.”

He even angled an approving glance over Daisy’s head toward Rosa , unexpected enough that Rosa blinked and twitched, and cleared her throat. “ Yes , it’s all very exciting!” she said. “ Also , Filak , I’ve been wanting to ask” — she squared her shoulders — “would you like to pose for my anatomy book? Your features are very compelling, you know, and humans — and orcs, too — really ought to learn more about the Nor -ka-esh.”

She gestured along as she spoke, making sure he understood all that common-tongue, and now it was Filak’s turn to blink and stare, as a faint flush rose up his cheeks. But then he shrugged and nodded, and pressed another kiss to the top of Daisy’s head. “ If my Daisy wish,” he said decisively. “ And draw this, also.”

Daisy shot him a warm, grateful smile, while Rosa straightened, and a calculating gleam flashed across her eyes. “ That’s wonderful, thank you,” she told Filak . “ And also, while I’m asking, how would you feel about teaching a geology class at the school here, too? I’m sure it would be an excellent treat for the students. And ” — her gaze flicked back toward Daisy — “ Daisy could even join you, if you like? But no obligation on teaching yourself, sister, if you’d still rather not.”

Daisy indeed still held very little interest in teaching, but she would happily observe — and though Filak viciously frowned at Rosa , he didn’t actually refuse the request, either. Instead , he groaned and rolled his eyes, and steered Daisy around toward the door. A response that felt like a truce, almost, like a cautious but genuine step forward between him and the Ka -esh — just like the Skyli , and the Restoration Team , and the dyflissa . And when he kept marching Daisy toward the dyflissa , she gratefully went, and then lost herself in his claws and his control, his magic and his darkness.

For the next few days, Daisy happily divided her time between the Skyli and the communications office, and spent a few delightful afternoons reading books and studying Aelakesh in Rosa’s well-stocked library, too. And of course, she also spent at least some time every day out in the garden, seeking out intriguing sights to include in her new book. She’d met multiple helpful gardeners now, but the tall, charcoal-skinned Kalfr had continued to be her most frequent guide, supporting her quest for unique flora with his typical quiet kindness.

“You have not yet seen Joarr’s underground garden, have you?” he asked late one afternoon, when Daisy had returned from the Skyli early to fit in some drawing. “ This shall please you, I ken, and your readers also.”

Of course, Daisy was highly intrigued, and she eagerly fetched her lamp, and then followed Kalfr back into the mountain, and down into a long, twisting tunnel she hadn’t seen before. And at the end of the tunnel, Kalfr led her into a room full of… mushrooms?

Daisy gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth, dropping her lamp in a clatter at her feet. There were mushrooms carpeting the floor. Mushrooms climbing the walls. Mushrooms tucked into little cliffs and boulders, growing out of logs and branches, mushrooms that even glowed pale and greenish in the dark. Because wait, Daisy’s lamp had gone out, and she could still see in the dark , and she frantically fumbled for her sketchbook, and flipped it to a fresh new page.

“This is wonderful , Kalfr ,” she breathed, as she began sketching the outlines of the room. “ Absolutely spectacular, and perfect for the book. Gods , it could be an entire book all on its own! Thank you.”

But Kalfr only chuckled indulgently, and waved it away. “ I am glad,” he replied. “ I ken there are many outside the mountain who should wish to see this. Mayhap it could urge them to come visit, someday.”

There was a distinct wistful tone in his voice, one that Daisy had noticed on him multiple times now, and she angled him a brief, searching look — but just then, someone new stalked into the room behind them. Filak .

“Filak!” Daisy exclaimed, with a grin toward him. “ Did you know about this —”

But her voice was drowned out by the sudden sound of Filak’s growl, deep and furious. Because wait, he was glaring furiously at Kalfr , and striding toward him with long, menacing steps. “ Nei , Bautul ,” he hissed. “ Daisy er mín. Artistinn mín. Sálufélagi minn !”

It sent a flare of that whispering unease up Daisy’s spine — Filak was jealous of Kalfr , Filak still thought he owned her — and even as she opened her mouth to protest, Kalfr raised both his hands, and began speaking in rapid, apologetic Aelakesh . Something about only helping Daisy with her book, because he wanted to — to send a copy to someone? To maybe… his son ?

Filak blinked at Kalfr , looking just as nonplussed as Daisy felt — Kalfr had a son? — and then he leaned in closer to Kalfr , and took a deep inhale. “ Ach ,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “ Hvar er sonur tinn? ”

Where is your son , it must have meant, and Kalfr’s Aelakesh was slow and halting this time. Explaining how he and his son’s mother had bitterly quarrelled years ago, and how she’d barred him from his young son’s life ever since. And how his son had therefore never stepped foot in Orc Mountain , and how — Kalfr’s breath was heaving at this point — maybe a book like Daisy’s would spark his interest, and encourage him to come visit some day.

It was all fitting together far too clearly, flashing Daisy’s thoughts back to how Kalfr had spoken about his weaver “friend”, and how sad he often seemed. And now there was only sympathy, churning in Daisy’s gut, and she lurched between Filak and Kalfr , gripping Filak’s hand, while giving Kalfr a firm nod.

“I really hope it helps, too,” she told him. “ It’s been very good of you to help me so much. I’ll be glad to also credit you in the book, and perhaps your son will see that, too.”

Kalfr blinked, but gave her a wan, grateful smile, followed by a brief bow toward her and Filak both. And then he spun and strode out, leaving Daisy watching worriedly after him, while Filak irritably muttered in Aelakesh beside her. Something about Kalfr needing to tend his own garden, and stop being a terrible father to his son, and give up trying to steal away other orcs’ mates by showing them good caves.

“Filak,” Daisy said, with an exasperated smile toward him, as she slid both hands up against his warm chest. “ It sounds like Kalfr cares a lot about his son. And he’s not going to steal me away from you with good caves, either.”

Filak didn’t look convinced, glowering resentfully around at the room of mushrooms — and then, with a meaningful flick of his hand, he unfurled his rope from his belt. “ Nei , sólin mín ,” he breathed, his eyes glittering with sudden, tantalizing menace. “ You are mine. You learn this. You honour me. Mín .”

It spiked up a distinct twitch of unease, but far stronger was the thrill and the danger, the hunger coiling hot in Daisy’s belly. So she willingly goaded him, pushed and prodded and protested, until he dragged her to the ground, yanked off her trousers, and then began… tying her up. With the rope .

“ Ach, sólin mín ?” he hissed, searching her eyes. Asking , the way he always did. “ You wish?”

Gods, yes, and Daisy fervently nodded, and strained against that beautiful bite of the rope against her bare skin. “ Ach , Filak ,” she gulped. “ Please . Show me. Use me.”

It was yet another step into darkness, into a depravity Daisy hadn’t once imagined herself wanting. But her hunger only burned hotter as Filak kept wrapping the rope around her, taking his time, using a strange combination of knots and weaving. And then — Daisy gasped — he swung the long end of the rope around a craggy rock up above, so he could haul her up off the ground entirely. Leaving her bodily dangling from the ceiling, caught and bound and at his mercy, the web of ropes gently biting into her skin.

“You learn now, sólin mín ?” he asked, as he swung her around to fully face him. Showing her his glittering eyes, his flushed cheeks, his hand smoothly unfastening his trousers, and sliding them downwards. Revealing the sight of his long rigid cock, ready and waiting — and then his hands reached for Daisy’s bare knees, spreading them wide apart. Revealing her open empty heat, on a perfect level with his jutting cock…

“Gods, yes,” Daisy gasped, the craving pulsing and flaring, flooding her with sheer desperate need. “ Please , myrkrie mitt .”

And yes, that was it, Filak’s groan low and guttural, his black tongue brushing his lips. And then, with a single fluid movement, he swung Daisy fully forward onto his waiting jabbing cock, sheathing himself whole in one long, smooth, devastating stroke. So swift and shocking that Daisy shouted and quaked all over, bound and impaled and trapped upon him.

“ Mín ,” Filak hissed, as he swung her off again, leaving her dangling, wide-open, empty, impossibly far away. “ You beg for more. Mín .”

Fuck, yes, it was so good, the darkness whirling wild and hot and heady around her, and Daisy begged and pleaded, revelling in that perfect sting of the ropes, that cold dangerous gleam in Filak’s eyes. While he sank them into a slow, maddening rhythm, skewering her on his waiting cock again and again, watching with smug triumph as she juddered and keened, her pierced body helplessly convulsing against his invasion.

“You learn?” he asked her, so calm and unaffected, apart from the faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “ You like, sólin mín ?”

There was no denying it now, especially when he sped up the pace, the sight and the sounds now slick and messy and obscene. But he liked that, he wanted that, wanted Daisy utterly at his mercy, under his control, his head tilting back, his body spasming inside her —

His groan was dark and guttural as he poured himself deep, flooding her with pulse after pulse of thick liquid heat. Filling her almost painfully full of him, sparking her own pleasure closer, too, almost to the edge…

But then, with another dangerous glint of his eyes, Filak swung Daisy off him again, pushing her back and away, and swiftly stepping aside. So he could coolly stand there and watch her helplessly swinging back and forth, while her bared pulsing body spewed out his fresh white seed in brazen spraying arcs. Painting it all over the floor, and all over the beautiful mushrooms, too.

It was quite possibly the most debauched thing they’d done yet, and Daisy’s face burned as she watched, as her body’s spewing stream slowly decreased, and finally faded to a steady oozing trickle. And only then did Filak step in again, catching Daisy’s knees, drawing her to a halt.

“Filak,” she gasped, between her heaving breaths. “ I can’t believe you — you —”

That unease was whispering again, flitting from Filak’s unapologetic jealousy, to the ropes, to the shocking shameless mess. To him saying he had the right to trap her, to rule her, to own her…

But his hands were so gentle as he untied her, his soft kisses skating over her skin. And his eyes in the pale glowing light almost looked like they glowed, too, running over her with such warmth, such reverence.

“Thank you, sólin mín ,” he murmured, husky. “ Make such good art with me, in good cave.”

His eyes angled down toward the mess, and for the first time, Daisy studied it, too. How in the mushrooms’ pale green light, those spatters of white across the cave seemed to glimmer and shine. How they looked like sparkles, like crystals, like bright fallen snow, lighting up the darkness.

“Oh,” Daisy said numbly, holding out her shaky hand, closing her fingers on the sketchbook Filak silently passed into it. And then he guided her down onto his lap and touched her while she drew, stroking her all over, teasing his blunt fingers into the still-dripping softness between her legs. Until her pleasure whirled and sang up alongside the art, leaving her dazed and boneless in Filak’s arms, lost in the beauty all around her, inside her.

“We should plant mushrooms in the Skyli ,” she murmured afterwards, once he’d carried her off to bed. “ Maybe Kalfr could help? Invite his son?”

Filak harrumphed, but didn’t argue, and tucked her closer against him. Suggesting that maybe the jealousy had just been part of the pleasure, too, part of the art they made together. And it was enough to shove the unease away again, to sink into the warmth and the relief, the safety and the dark.

When morning came, Daisy stirred awake to more warm hazy coziness, and to a vaguely familiar sensation — the feel of Filak’s claw, tracing against her skin. Moving soft and purposeful on her lower belly, almost as if he was… marking her again.

Daisy twitched up to look, her heartbeat skipping — but no, no, there was no ink this time. It was just his claw, skating lightly against the vow he’d made. The vow that — along with the other marks he’d given her — had kept fading more with every passing day. Until those three lines of curling script were now a very light grey, barely legible against her skin.

And his touch like this, so tentative and gentle against that vow in the morning’s shimmering quiet, almost felt like a nudge, like a question. Like a countdown of those ever-decreasing days, a warning of that looming attack — and most of all, a reminder of Filak’s pledge to her. His promise to prove himself, and gain her trust, before the ink faded.

Daisy couldn’t meet his eyes, suddenly, and her voice felt frozen, locked in her throat. She was running out of time. They should be talking about this. She should be seeking out Jule , and asking about Lew , about the attack, about plans and contingencies. Three days…

But she was rescued by a cheerful-sounding rap from the door, and when Daisy jerked around to look, it was Rosa . Beaming brightly toward them, with an apologetic-looking Julian in tow.

“Are you ready to teach your geology class at the school, brother?” Rosa asked Filak , with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “ They’re expecting you this morning. The children are very excited!”

Filak’s mouth dropped open, the fury and disbelief flashing in his eyes, but Rosa had already flounced off again, while Julian grimaced, and rubbed at his mouth. “ I tried,” he said, with a sigh. “ Shall I tell them you wish to cancel?”

Filak’s face twisted with distaste, but then he huffed an irritated growl, and waved it away. And when Julian turned to go, revealing a surprising mass of red marks on his back, Filak’s frown only deepened, and he abruptly called out something after Julian . Something about how he needed to make sure he was getting enough rest, and seeing a healer if he needed it.

But Julian’s brief flinch was the only indication that he’d heard, and he stalked away with stiff steps, his shoulders hunched. While Filak made a face at Daisy , and began muttering in Aelakesh about typical stubborn uncooperative ungrateful Ka -esh, who all ought to be tied up and taught some lessons.

Daisy’s laugh was bright and incredulous, and she couldn’t help a teasing swat at Filak’s shoulder. “ Really ?” she demanded. “ As if you aren’t worse than them all!”

Filak replied with a much firmer swat to her flank, and a playful snap of his teeth toward her — but then they were grinning at each other, and climbing out of bed. And as they dressed and then headed out into the corridor together, Daisy could almost forget that silent question he’d asked, that fading vow on her skin. Three days.

Filak didn’t bring it up again either, and once they reached Geva and Rathgarr’s classroom full of wide-eyed children, he squared his shoulders and launched into his lesson, without hesitation or complaint. And instead of talking about types of rocks, or demonstrating his stone-seeing, as Daisy might have expected, he walked around the classroom, and pointed out various features of its stone walls and floors. Showing them the lines of the layers, the foundations, the places that bore weight.

The children listened with surprising attention, though some kept warily eyeing Filak’s shaved head and his marks. But when he asked them to follow him down through the mountain, they all scampered after him, until they reached a dead-end corridor Daisy hadn’t seen before. Where Filak announced, in easy-sounding Aelakesh , that he needed their help finding a hidden door.

It led to a frantic excited search around the corridor, and then a chorus of delighted shouts as the students found a tiny vertical crack in the wall. It indeed turned out to be a door, and when Filak pulled it open, it revealed another tunnel, with yet another hidden door waiting to be found.

This one was trickier, but Filak again showed the students how to study the layers of rock in the walls, and explained how the layers had first gotten there, many ages past. And again, the children shouted with glee as they finally found the next door, and Filak revealed yet another secret passage to explore behind it.

“I’m so glad he agreed to do this,” Rosa murmured to Daisy and Geva as they followed along together, Daisy sketching while they went. “ How did he ever find these tunnels? And who knew he would be so good with children?”

Daisy couldn’t seem to answer, but an unmistakable pride was bubbling in her chest, along with a whispering, dangerous affection. Of course Filak would know every secret passage in this mountain, and of course children would love him, too. He was always so… himself , somehow, so expressive and immediate, so true to what he felt, and what he wanted. And the more Daisy watched him, the more she could feel his enjoyment of this, too. His relief at being seen, and respected for his expertise, even if it was by a group of shouting excitable children.

That night, Daisy felt almost shy as they undressed for bed together, as she ran her eyes up and down Filak’s lithe naked body. She could barely even see his ribs, now, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders looked noticeably smoother and bulkier than they once had, too. Gods , even his cock looked fatter than before, and her throat convulsed as she looked at it, and reached out a hand to carefully stroke down its velvety length. Smoothing her fingers over all his black marks, over that distinct blazing sun. The sun that was also fading, its ink even paler than her vow.

She eyed it for an instant too long, as something dipped in her gut, and Filak’s silent question from that morning again flared through her thoughts. She’d had almost two weeks to see this, to learn for herself. To decide whether to stay here, as Filak’s mate. To let him write that vow on her belly in blood and ink, to shout his ownership of her forever.

“These húeflúr need to be redone, right?” she asked him, too quickly, over that disconcerting thought. “ Can I paint them for you? Pray for you, myrkrie mitt ?”

She’d repainted a few of his other marks now, too, including the prayers down his arms, and the eyes on his palms, and even the sun on his heart. And just like the other times, Filak instantly nodded, the warmth flaring in his eyes. Because yes, of course he liked her painting him, praying for him — and in truth, Daisy liked it, too. Liked being part of his identity, his art, his connection to his gods. A connection that had almost begun to feel like it belonged to her, too.

So she shot him a grateful smile, and then readied her brush and ink, and got him settled. It took her a while to sort out the best way to do it, but she ended up propping his bare arse on the edge of the bed, his legs sprawled wide. So his jutting cock was a clear waiting canvas, accessible from all sides, wide open for her touch and her prayers.

But it meant kneeling before him, close between his sprawled legs, with the inkpot on the floor beside her. And as Daisy gently gripped his warm smooth shaft, and touched her brush to the marks circling its base, the painting suddenly felt even more intimate, more vulnerable, than before. Especially with her here on the floor before him, her head bent low, her brush carefully stroking his silken skin. And though Filak hadn’t moved or spoken, his cock was already shuddering and bobbing in her hand, enough that she had to hold it tighter, fight to steady her own strangely trembling fingers.

“What do these ones say again?” she asked, her voice thick, once she’d worked halfway down his shaft. “ What am I praying for, this time?”

She risked a glance up toward his watching face, his eyes shadowed and inscrutable in the lamplight. “ For strength,” he told her, his voice careful on the words. “ For fire and sight and plenty. For strong fucking, and good seed. For ” — he took a breath — “good filling of my sun.”

His claw dropped down to trace against that faded sun he’d painted on his shaft, the sun that marked this as hers, and Daisy swallowed hard as she blinked at it, and moved her brush to stroke at it. To repaint her sun on his most intimate, revealing place, to again claim it as her own. To pray for it, for its fire and vigour and plenty, for its strong seed, for its good filling of her belly…

Her hand was trembling even more than before, and she swallowed again, took a deep breath. And fought to keep praying, keep focusing, draw the circle of the sun, the light, the familiar seeing eye…

It wasn’t until she heard Filak’s low hiss that she blinked at it, and realized what she’d done. She’d put an eye on the sun. On her sun, on his cock . And that certainly hadn’t been there before, and he hadn’t asked her to do it, and would he mind, maybe she should paint over it?

But when she darted another glance up at Filak’s face, he looked… stunned. Awed . His eyes glittering strangely on hers, his length shuddering hard in her fingers. And oh, he was leaking now, too, pooling it down warm onto her wrist, speaking without speaking at all.

“You like?” Daisy whispered, breathless, the brush hovering over him, and he nodded as he exhaled, and sputtered more liquid heat against her skin. Saying … saying…

“Ach,” he whispered back. “ I like, sólin mín . I love.”

I love . Daisy’s belly hitched, her eyes searching his face. Searching all the things he was saying, so close and heavy and powerful, so strong she almost couldn’t bear it. And suddenly she was again far, far too aware of her own fading marks, of his vow, of that waiting shouting question. Did she want to stay? To be his mate? Forever ?

But the answer still wouldn’t come, choked off tight and painful in her throat, and with effort she dropped her eyes, and gripped tighter at her brush. And then just… kept painting. Kept speaking, in her own silent brushstrokes, her own shaky whispers.

I’m not sure , they might have said. I’m not… ready. I’ve seen so much, these past weeks, but I still… I don’t know.

But gods, why didn’t she know? Why did it still feel so difficult to tell the difference between the light and the darkness, the dungeon and the dream? Between Lew and his control over her, Filak and his right to punish her, to rule her, to own her. So different in so many ways, but still, maybe… an echo. The same painting in different lights.

I love. I have right to rule over you. My heart is forever yours. Mín . Foolish . Sólin mín. Nei . You are an artist. Feeding belladonna to children. Forgetting Lew , forgetting Sybil , forgetting the attack, three more days…

Daisy was painting so slowly now, so carefully, as if she couldn’t bear for it to end. Gently moving Filak’s warm cock up and down and sideways, now, making sure to get everything beneath, too, and then, finally, the head. That silken, fully black-painted hood, now peeking back to reveal that glossy pale tip, the deep slit with the pearly fluid still seeping from within. Still speaking back to her, even now. Still saying, perhaps, I still want you. I still… love.

And was Daisy saying it back, maybe, maybe, as she painted that hood as carefully as she could, covering all the faded grey with thick dark black. With her own care, her own affection, her own…

She still couldn’t say it, couldn’t even paint it, but without at all meaning to, she leaned forward, and… kissed it. Kissed that fresh black ink, full with her lips, slipping her tongue up beneath. Painting it on herself, too, doing it on purpose this time, gathering her courage, holding her hand out to the darkness and the dream. Saying … saying…

Filak’s groan was low and harsh, his cock vibrating hard against her lips, spurting out hot flares of sweetness into her mouth. Saying , again, he wanted her, he saw her, he understood. He … loved her.

And when Daisy drew away, Filak’s warm mouth was there, here, waiting. Meeting hers with such soft eagerness, such affection, as his safe steady hands drew her up, and spread her out on the bed beside him. Touching her, kissing her, coaxing her to fire and light beneath his hands. And then guiding her legs apart, opening her fading sun wide, so his hot alive body could settle down over her, cover her with his safety.

“ Sólin mín ,” he whispered, hoarse and pleading in her ear, as his freshly painted crown stroked up against her sun, delved into its light. And then eased itself inside, one smooth slow steady plunge, one sun meeting another, seeing another, finding its mate, its home.

Daisy gasped as he sank all the way, locked full and heavy within her, hers — but then Filak swallowed her gasp into his own mouth, into the sweetness of his lips on hers. His tongue slipping in so soft and gentle, whispering of how he could so easily plunder and consume her, but how he could also treasure her and heal her, make her warm and safe. Just like his familiar hands touching her, his hips gently rocking against her, his marked cock filling her, seeing deep inside her. Seeing all that fear, all that lingering shame, foolish, stupid, ridiculous . The deep lurking terror of being alone again, of being wrong again, of losing herself to the tempting deadly darkness…

A strange, hoarse little sob escaped from Daisy’s throat, but Filak only kissed that too, saw it, accepted it. Saw her for who she was, inside and out — and he’d still wanted her, still cared for her, still shared his skill and his secrets and his life with her. And now he was showing her, making love to her in a way he never once had before, and maybe that was the seeing too, the eye in the dark, for strength and vigour and plenty. I love , he’d said, I love …

“Do you mean it,” Daisy choked, against his soft kissing lips. “ That you love me.”

But she knew his answer, even before he nodded, before his body flexed and spasmed inside her. Because he was showing her, he was shouting it to her, just like he had ever since the first night they’d met.

“ Ach, sólin mín ,” he whispered, with a faint break in his voice. “ I love you. ég elska tig .”

Oh, gods. Oh , please. And suddenly Daisy was breaking apart, crumpling and shuddering and blazing alive beneath his kiss and his touch. Flaring into white dizzying bliss, into raging roaring ecstasy, while Filak’s hips juddered, his groan low and desperate, a prayer of its own — and then he poured out into her, flooding her with light and safety, with hope and heat and plenty. Just like they’d both prayed for, just like they’d both needed.

Daisy didn’t know how long she clung to him afterwards, trembling in his arms, gasping with the lingering bursts of pleasure. But she couldn’t bear to let him go, and maybe he knew that too, his long arms and legs wrapping tight around her, his claws prodding sharp and certain into her skin. Even as his breaths came fast and shallow, his heartbeat thudding against hers. All of it still saying, so clearly now, I love you. You are safe with me. Sólin mín.

“I prove this to you, ach?” he breathed, close into her ear. “ You stay, sólin mín ?”

You stay . Daisy’s breath dragged in and out, because of course that was the question, the one he’d still been shouting over all the rest. Had he proven this to her? Would she stay? Follow him into the darkness, into the danger and the dream…

“Yes, Filak ,” she whispered. “ I’ll stay.”