He had meant for the servants to run her one in her own room but, whether out of sleep deprivation or loneliness, she led him deep into the palace grounds. There was a thick barrier of thorns around the outskirts that he hadn’t seen since he first passed into them, and she guided him towards them now.

Before he could ask if they were going to leave the castle, she turned off and into a tall, thick fortress of bushes, bringing him out to a natural spring.

“This is the Spring of Xuriral,” she said, finally letting go of his hand. “Its waters soothe.”

Without warning, she dropped her dress and freed her hair. His eyes were drawn to her ass before he could help it and he squeaked. Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to compose himself in time for her questioning glance back. She grinned.

He cleared his throat to save his dignity. “You should brush your hair before you wash it.”

They hadn’t brought a brush, so he could only do his best with his fingers. There were many tangles and knots in her hip-length hair and he had to stretch to reach them. He tried hard not to push too far through her locks, but his fingers often brushed against her back or the curve of her hips. He sprung back as soon as he was done and turned his back. He heard her chuckle.

He took the part of the spring that was as far away from her as possible, keeping his back turned. At least it was warm and pleasant. “We should have brought soap…”

“We don’t need it. The water will purify us.”

He heard her duck beneath the water and made the mistake of turning to make sure that she wasn’t sneaking towards him. She rose back up like something out a film, hair slicked back and eyes closed, half-gasping. A heat formed in his belly that he didn’t want to think about.

She caught his eye with a smile and leant against the side next to him. She was long like a shark. Her hair stuck to the curves of her body, and her large breasts were left bared…

“You remind me of him so much.”

He was glad to draw his eyes up to her face. “Who?”

“The man I loved.”

It took a moment for his brain to start working again. “Wait, man? You loved a man?”

“Yes…” She relaxed peacefully back in the water. “A human man, actually. Many, many years ago now.”

He gently settled in beside her without thinking about it, letting the water swallow him up to the shoulders. “What was he like?”

She seemed to struggle for the words. “He was… Kind? And calm – although never very organised.” She chuckled at a distant memory. “He was always telling me off for working too hard, too. He collapsed once while working on a project and, after that, he was a real health nut.”

“He’s right. I collapsed once, too – it’s not fun.”

She smiled. “Well, I really pushed him to the edge with my workaholic nature. He had the patience of a saint, but it must have driven him crazy…”

He watched her eyes grow distant with soft love, smiling. “What happened?”

“There was… An incident. We were separated forever. He believes that I’m dead.”

“You can’t send word to him?”

“No, I can’t. Not ever.” She turned to him suddenly. “What about yours? Your special person?”

He hesitated. He had never spoken to anyone about Rhea. “She was… A healer,” he said carefully. He glanced up to see Zecadus’ reaction. She looked surprised.

“A woman?”

“Yes…” With a smile, she settled down to listen carefully. He picked his words. “We were friends from childhood. She was energetic and driven, and she had a great ambition to heal people. She always had a plan, too. If we had a decision to make, she usually made it.” Zecadus chuckled. He tried to smile. “I would have followed her anywhere.”

“How did she…?”

He hesitated, not wanting to speak the words. “In fire,” he compromised.

“I’m sorry…”

He lay his head back in the water to let it clean his hair. He let the memories wash over him too. Somehow, they seemed a little clearer here. It was strange: they were undoubtedly happy memories and yet, looking back on them now, he felt a little sick to think of himself following Rhea’s plan like a little lamb, after all he’d suffered from Loki.

“I don’t think I’m like him.” She turned to him in surprise. “I don’t have the patience of a saint – not anymore. I’m not okay sitting in my little garden while you kill yourself out here, or never being told anything, or only seeing you when you decide you can squeeze in time for me.”

He sat up to look down at her. “Don’t drive me crazy. Look after yourself and remember me. And I’ll help you with anything you need me to, but the last day of every week belongs to me. No excuses.”

He watched her eyes for the emotion flitting through them – but, though he saw it, he couldn’t decipher it. She watched him back for a few moments. Then, she relaxed and smiled.

“Alright. I’ll try my hardest.”