Consciousness returned slowly, like waves lapping at a distant shore. Cyrus squinted against the mid-morning sun filtering through the oak's branches. A comfortable weight pressed against his chest - Quet had shifted during his recovery, using him as a pillow while he slept off the magical exhaustion.
Her golden hair spilled across his torso like liquid sunlight, individual strands catching the light in mesmerizing patterns. One of her hands curled possessively around his bicep while the other splayed across his chest, directly over his heart. Even in sleep, she radiated divine warmth.
The grass beneath him had dried from the heat of their earlier battle, creating a natural cushion. Serpiente del Sol lay within arm's reach, its emerald core still pulsing with faint inner light. The weapon called to something deep in his soul, a resonance he couldn't quite explain.
A yawn escaped him before he could suppress it. The motion disturbed Quet, who made a small sound of protest and burrowed closer.
"Time is it?" Her words slurred together, accent thicker with sleep.
"Late morning, by the sun." He absently stroked her hair, earning a pleased hum. "Should probably head back soon. Got plans tonight."
That caught her attention. Her head lifted slightly, emerald eyes narrowing. "Plans?"
"Mm. Meeting Tessia for a dungeon dive."
"Tessia..." The temperature rose a few degrees. "The elf girl you saved?"
"The same." He kept his tone carefully neutral, though his lips twitched at her obvious jealousy. "She needs backup for ingredient gathering. I need reliable potions. Simple logistics."
"Is that so?" Her finger traced idle patterns on his chest, nails scratching lightly. "And this arrangement has nothing to do with her being absolutely gorgeous?"
"Hadn't noticed."
"Liar." The accusation held no heat. "I've seen how men look at her. Those glacier eyes, that golden hair..."
"Sounds like someone else I know is the one paying attention."
She propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face. The movement brought their bodies into closer alignment, her curves pressing against his side in ways that made focusing difficult.
"You're doing this on purpose," he accused.
"Doing what?" Pure innocence radiated from her expression, completely at odds with the way her leg hooked over his.
"Being distracting."
"Is it working?"
He caught her wandering hand before it could drift lower. "You know it is."
"Good." She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "Because if you think I'm letting you go dungeon diving with some pretty elf without proper... motivation to come home..."
Heat pooled in his stomach at her tone. "Jealous, mi diosa?"
"Possessive," she corrected, nipping his earlobe. "There's a difference."
"And what's that?"
"Jealousy implies insecurity." Her free hand slid into his hairm. "I'm very secure in what's mine."
The claiming in her voice sent electricity down his spine. "Yours?"
"Mhm." She shifted to straddle his hips, the position bringing their faces inches apart. "Or would you like another demonstration?"
His hands found her waist automatically. "Thought it was time to head back."
"We will." Her smile turned predatory. "Eventually."
She closed the distance between them, claiming his mouth in a kiss that tasted of divine fire. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, requesting entry rather than demanding it. Even now, she gave him the choice.
He opened to her willingly, meeting her exploration with his own. One hand slid up her spine to tangle in her hair while the other gripped her hip, holding her steady as she rolled against him.
"Mine," she breathed against his lips between kisses. "My champion. My sol."
Each word was punctuated with a deeper kiss, as if she could brand the truth of them into his very being.
A distant part of his mind noted they should probably move this somewhere more private than an open field. But then Quet did something particularly clever with her tongue and rational thought became significantly more difficult.
"Mi diosa..." The title came out rough as her lips found his throat.
"Yes?" Her teeth scraped his pulse point, drawing a low sound from his chest.
Whatever response he might have made was lost as she ground down against him, the friction sending sparks through his nervous system. His grip on her hip tightened, probably hard enough to bruise if she were mortal.
She rewarded him with another roll of her hips, more deliberate this time. "Something to say, mi sol?"
"You're going to be the death of me."
Her laugh vibrated against his skin. "What a way to go though."
He used his grip on her hair to pull her back into a proper kiss, swallowing her surprised gasp. This time he took control, exploring her mouth with thorough intensity until she melted against him.
"Cyrus..." His name became a plea as he found that spot behind her ear that always made her shiver.
"Yes?" He mimicked her earlier tone, earning a breathless laugh that turned into a moan as he nipped at her throat.
"We should..." She lost her train of thought as his hand slid under her shirt. "Mm... stop?"
"Should we?"
Her only response was to press closer, chasing his touch like a cat seeking affection. He obliged, mapping the familiar curves of her body with reverent attention.
A twig snapped somewhere in the distance.
They froze, suddenly very aware of their compromising position. After a moment, Quet buried her face in his chest with a frustrated groan.
"Adventurers," she muttered. "Always with the worst timing."
Cyrus listened carefully, picking up the sound of approaching footsteps. Multiple sets, by the rhythm. Probably a party headed out for morning training.
"We should move."
"Don't wanna." Despite her words, Quet was already climbing off him with obvious reluctance. "Was just getting to the good part."
He sat up, adjusting his clothing while she did the same. His body protested the loss of contact, but the voices were getting closer.
"Rain check?"
Her eyes sparked with promise. "Oh, definitely."
She reached down to help him up, using the motion to pull him into one final kiss. This one was softer, less desperate, but still carried enough heat to make his toes curl.
"Something to remember me by," she murmured against his lips. "While you're off adventuring with your elf girl."
He retrieved Serpiente del Sol, the weapon humming contentedly in his grip. Together they started back toward the city, maintaining a respectable distance despite the urge to reach for each other.
The adventuring party came into view just as they reached the tree line - a group of level twos by their equipment, probably headed to their own training ground. They bowed respectfully to Quet as they passed.
"Think they noticed anything?" Cyrus asked once they were out of earshot.
"Besides the scorch marks and withered grass?" She linked their arms together, propriety be damned. "I'm sure they'll draw their own conclusions."
"Great."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the morning air and each other's company. Quet occasionally hummed snatches of melody - some ancient tune he almost recognized but couldn't quite place.
As they approached the north gate, she squeezed his arm to get his attention. "Be careful in the dungeon today."
"Always am."
"I mean it." All teasing left her tone. "Something feels... off. Like the calm before a storm."
He studied her profile, noting the slight furrow between her brows. "Divine intuition?"
"Something like that." She worried her lower lip. "Just... promise you'll come back to me?"
"Always do."
"Cyrus." The use of his full name made him stop walking. She turned to face him, emerald eyes intense. "Promise me."
He caught her face between his palms, pressing their foreheads together. "I promise, mi diosa. Nothing in that dungeon could keep me from returning to you."
She searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Good."
"Besides," she added with a wicked grin, "we still have that rain check to cash in."
Heat pooled in his stomach at the reminder. "Evil woman."
"You love it."
Again, he couldn't argue.
Their paths diverged at the marketplace, Quet heading toward Babel while Cyrus turned south. Her emerald pendant bounced against his chest with each step, a constant reminder of her earlier warning. Divine intuition wasn't something to ignore lightly.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows between buildings as he approached the Blue Pharmacy. The familiar scent of herbs and brewing potions drifted through the open door - lavender, sage, and something sharply medicinal he couldn't name.
Inside, Naaza dozed at the counter, her dog ears twitching occasionally as she tracked customers through the store despite her apparent sleep.
"Afternoon." He kept his voice low, not wanting to startle her.
One purple eye cracked open. "Valentine." She straightened slightly, though her expression remained drowsy. "Here for Tessia?"
"That obvious?"
"Mhm." Her tail swished lazily. "She's been organizing the same shelf for an hour."
A crash from the back room punctuated her words, followed by muffled cursing. Naaza's lips twitched. "Make that reorganizing."
"I should probably..."
"Yes." She waved him toward the back.
Cyrus followed the sound of muttered elven curses through the back room. Glass clinked against glass as someone - presumably Tessia - continued reorganizing whatever she'd knocked over.
He rounded the corner to find her kneeling amid scattered potion vials, carefully checking each for cracks. Her adventuring gear suited her - a black halter-style top with a high collar that accentuated her slender neck, matched with fitted gray pants tucked into lightweight boots. Copper arm guards caught the light as she moved, their diamond patterns suggesting dwarven craftsmanship. A utility belt hung low on her hips, pouches already stocked with emergency supplies.
Her golden hair fell in a thick braid past her shoulders, a few strands escaping to frame her face. The style was practical but did nothing to diminish her ethereal beauty. As an elf, she possessed that otherworldly grace their race was known for, but there was something uniquely captivating about her. Perhaps it was those striking turquoise eyes, currently narrowed in concentration as she sorted through the mess.
"Need a hand?"
She startled at his voice, nearly dropping the vial she held. A blush crept across her cheeks as she looked up at him. "C-Cyrus! I didn't... I mean..." She took a breath, visibly composing herself. "Hello."
"Hello." He crouched beside her, picking up one of the fallen bottles. "Inventory problems?"
"Something like that." She accepted the vial, careful not to let their fingers brush. "I was restocking the healing potions when..." Her blush deepened. "Well."
"When gravity decided to be inconvenient?"
That earned a small laugh. "Yes, exactly." She gestured at the scattered bottles. "Nothing broke, thankfully. Lord Miach would be..." Her expression fell slightly.
"Understanding," Cyrus finished. "He knows accidents happen."
"Still." She gathered several vials into a neat row. "These are expensive to make. The ingredients alone..."
"Speaking of ingredients." He helped her collect the rest of the bottles. "What exactly are we hunting today?"
"Oh! Right." She reached for her belt, producing a carefully folded list. "Mostly herbs from the upper floors - bloodvine moss, luminous caps, that sort of thing. But there's also..." She bit her lip. "Well."
"Tessia."
"We might need to go to the twelfth floor." The words came out in a rush. "There's a specific flower that only grows in that mist, and Lord Miach needs it for a special commission, and I know it's dangerous but-"
"The twelfth?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where the Orcs and the Infant Dragons are?"
She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "I understand if you don't want to-"
"I didn't say that." He studied her face, noting the tension in her jaw. "Just surprised you'd want to risk it."
"I don't." Her fingers twisted the paper. "But Lord Miach has done so much for me. For all of us. If I can help repay even a fraction of that debt..."
"By getting yourself killed?"
"I'm not helpless." Steel entered her voice, her spine straightening. "I may not be as strong as you, but I can hold my own."
"Never said you couldn't." He handed her the last vial. "Just making sure you understand what you're asking."
"I do." She met his gaze directly now, turquoise eyes fierce. "Will you help me or not?"
He pretended to consider it, though they both knew he'd already decided. "What's the potion worth?"
"Enough to cover two months of debt payments."
"And Miach asked you specifically to get it?"
"No." She looked away. "He mentioned needing it, but said it was too dangerous to retrieve right now."
"So naturally, you volunteered."
"Not... exactly."
"Tessia."
She sighed. "I may have overheard him discussing it with Naaza. They were worried about losing the commission, and I just thought..."
"You'd solve the problem yourself?"
"Something like that." She stood, brushing dust from her knees. "I know it's selfish to ask you to risk yourself for this."
"Not selfish." He rose as well, absently noting how she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "Reckless, maybe. But not selfish."
Hope brightened her features. "Then you'll help?"
"Under two conditions."
"Name them."
"First - we go up to floor 6. Build up some extra valis and experience before attempting anything stupid."
She nodded quickly. "And second?"
"You follow my lead down there. No heroics, no splitting up, no trying to prove yourself. Clear?"
"Crystal." Relief softened her expression. "Thank you, Cyrus. Truly."
He waved off her gratitude. "Thank me when we finish. Now, about those other ingredients..."