***
The knock on our door came while we were standing in the middle of his room, half dressed, engaged in a rather intense round of what Violet had once referred to, quite hilariously, as “tonsil hockey.” We had been so sure that we were fully exhausted, but then, halfway through whatever conversation we had been having while we were getting dressed, he had brushed against me, or I against him, and for whatever reason, that was enough. We were kissing rather passionately, and my hand had just slipped into his boxers when the knock came, and I broke away from him for a second to yell, “We don’t want any!” but the knock came again, even more insistently, before I could re-attach my mouth to my husband’s.
“By the One God, damn them.” Adam murmured, “Just a moment.”
I threw on a shirt, and he pulled up his black pajama pants just as the door opened. James was the one coming in, and in his hand was a large bottle of some jet-black liquid.
“Tyre asked that this be dropped off.” He said very formally, which told both Adam and me that there were other guards, the ones who were loyal to Tyre, within earshot.
“Oh, fantastic.” I said, “Poison!”
“It was checked.” He said, and I knew that it had been he who had checked it, so I looked through the door to see that the other guards were distracted and squeezed his hand. He looked back, saw that the guards were literally turned away, so he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it silently. Our eyes stayed fixed, and Adam’s respectfully looked away, because in that look, James was telling me of his relief that I was still alive, and that he had been worried I would not be as he watched the fight. I smiled, and he did, too. Then, he left, but only after he had kissed my hand again.
“What is this, baby?” I asked Adam as I observed the bottle.
“That is Black Beauty.”
“Ew…” I murmured, and gingerly, as though it might explode, which it would not, I placed the bottle on the mantle. “I don’t want that.”
“Nor do I.” He replied.
“Why is he sending us Black Beauty?”
“He probably thinks we need to relax after the fight. Little does he know, we have our own ways of relaxing after a fight.”
“Oh, yes we do.” I said with a slight giggle as I pulled back the comforter and laid in the sheets that smelled so like him. He crawled into bed beside me, and once he had laid down, I rested my head on his chest as I always did, and as they always did, his arms came up to wrap around me as I closed my eyes.
“He told me Tyre is going to call on me tomorrow.”
“Well, you know the drill, as they say: if you feel you are out of your depth, call out to me, and I will be by your side in a moment.”
“With a pile of bodies in your wake.”
“Exactly.”
“What could he want?”
“Oh, more than likely to make sure that you are alright, my dear. He is very sensitive about you. You will be fine. I know it.”
I nodded.
“Let’s hope he left his guns on land.” I said, and my hand traveled by its own will to the scar on my lower abdomen. Adam grasped that hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.
“For his sake, I do hope so.”