Deekin was fully aware that a good storyteller never satisfied the curiosity of his audience entirely. So, a moment after his Boss left the room, he excused himself from the company, politely but firmly refused their pleas and offers, and ambled towards the staff.

„Where be everybody?" he said, smiling at the obviously uncomfortable man. The staff, not as cosmopolitan and blasé as the guests, were clearly having trouble with a kobold being one of the guests of honour.

„Mistress Nathyrra is, uh, out," stammered the man. „She did not vouchsafe her destination to us. Master Shadowbreath has expressed desire for a bath, he is in the bathing chambers."

„And the Boss?"

„Uh, mistress Rinaelianwen is, uh, also in the bathing chambers, I believe," whispered the man, oozing delicacy from every pore.

„Deekin going to his room, then. Send up wine and candles and snacks, okay? Deekin gonna work," the kobold announced with a wide grin. Then, just for mischief, he flapped his wings a few times and rose up in the air, the guests and staff alike gawking at his suddenly menacing form. He flew towards the stairs and rose further, but then stopped and turned in mid-air.

„Oh, and goodnight everybody. Thank you for listening and being kind to Deekin." And he flew up the stairwell, because why walk when you can fly?

ΦΦΦ

Up in his room in the luxurious suite – a room intended for royal children and equipped with child-sized furnishings that suited him perfectly – Deekin leafed through his notes. He had to finish the description of the final battle, because it still lacked the necessary detail, but that could wait. Now he finally knew what to do about the romantic part of the story, and that was very important.

Deekin knew in his bardic soul that every epic story must have romance in it, because why save the world if there was no love to look forward to? He regretted very much that the previous tale of his and Boss's exploits had no romance whatsoever, and even briefly considered making up such a story : a tragic tale of unrequited love and deadly disease standing between the Boss and some elven ranger she told Deekin about. But when the time came for the book, he decided it would probably anger the Boss, and the ranger's sick wife, too.

So when finally he and Boss met Valen Shadowbreath, the kobold's bardic senses tingled in anticipation. There was everything here needed for a good love story. They were so unlike each other : Rina with her safe, boring childhood and wild ideas and reckless yearning for adventure, and Valen with his horrible past and his quest for acceptance and security. She was untamed and unpredictable as a summer storm, and he was dark and repressed like a flame burning in the iron cage of his will. She was intrigued by him, not afraid, and he sought to accompany her, not to control her.

It was a perfect match.

Now, if only they would finally go for it.

Deekin was at his wits' end, trying to arrange a suitable moment, dropping hints and suggestions and whatnot. Nathyrra tried to help, because she had a good heart, but she was a drow and drow were savvy of romance like chickens were savvy of bricks. Even he, a kobold and former slave to a dragon, knew more of romance than they. But it was all in vain, and when the party found themselves in Cania, he lost all hope and scribbled a tragic scenario of a love that would bud, yet never blossom. But now, when he saw the Boss in the common room, storming with jealousy and determination, his hope was renewed. Deekin dipped his quill in the inkwell and began to write.

ΦΦΦ

„Bathing chambers" seemed like a silly, pompous term. But when Rina descended to the marble basement, she was inclined to agree.

Huge pools of crystal-clear water stretched away in the gloom, since the lamps were unlit, each separated from the other by embroidered satin curtains. Complicated mosaics covered the floor, and sculpted stone doors led to niches with smaller, private baths. Some pools were hot, some were cold. It looked like the sort of place where water elementals went for vacation ; even the top suites in the former temple of Lolth weren't that grand. There was no sign of Valen though.

Rina was suddenly overcome by how dirty she was. She discarded her gear in record time, piled it up on the floor and lowered herself to a hot pool. Grabbing a bar of soap, she scrubbed her body and untangled her hair and washed and oiled and perfumed for what felt, to her practical ranger mind, like forever, but in fact was only twenty minutes. She had just wrung the last bit of lathe from her hair, feeling wonderfully fresh and clean, when she heard a faint voice.

„They say that a lass in Sigil

Will place her heart in a box..."

Rina froze. Had she made a noise? Of course not. She made hardly any noise when moving these days. Did he know she was here? Probably not – he would have called. Probably apologized for being walked in on. She looked frantically around and only now noticed the faintest glow of light from beneath the last curtain, far away into the marble hall. It was dark just a moment ago, so he probably just turned on a light. What to do, what to do...

Go to him, you useless lump. Ask him to wash your back, or something.

No, I can't do that.

You bloody well took the Duke of Hells head-on! And you're afraid to hit on a guy who blushes and calls you „his lady"?

That's different! I had help with Mephistopheles. His help. Anyway, what if he's just being polite? What if he's not really interested? What if he's in love with the Seer after all?

Then at least have sex with him so you know what it's like, you bloody idiot! Before that damn hostess beats you to it!

As quietly as she could, Rina crept out of the pool and, keeping to the darkest shadows, made her way towards Valen's voice.

ΦΦΦ

Valen surfaced and brushed wet hair out of his eyes. This felt so good.

He was never one for dainty living, and his quarters at Lith My'atar were, to him, the epitome of comfort. But his human part felt even better here, on the surface, among the white stones and clear water and open skies. He had washed in a small bath to the side, scrubbing off all the accumulated dirt, and was now just swimming lazily in the large, hot pool, water washing away the strain in his muscles.

With a sigh, he rested his head on the marble and let his body float. They had won. They had actually won, saved the Seer, destroyed the Valsharess and made it out of Cania alive... They bested Mephistopheles himself... And the taint of his blood was gone. He was no longer a savage murderer... Nathyrra's voice came back to him : „Now you're just a temperamental redhead. She'll like that."

The drow was always so flippant about it... It made him livid, back then. To restrain the urge for wholesale slaughter every second of his life was apparently not enough – he also had to be tormented by a woman he could never have, and a friend who found his suffering amusing. And a singing kobold.

But when they came to Cania, and he confronted the full force of his demonic bloodlust, he felt almost... at peace. He was a murderous beast, through and through, and love was obviously out of his reach. He came to terms with that, and decided to die in battle, as a killing machine should.

And then she used his true name to free him of the taint. She gave him his humanity back and... well, the question was, what now?

She had to be interested to some extent, he told himself. She flirted with him on many occasions, but so did practically every other female, apart from the Seer. They all only wanted him as a conquest, a toy. Something to brag about. But he cared about her, he truly did, and wanted more than just to satisfy his lust.

Lust... When he didn't use his body to strike a bargain, Valen took care of his basic urges with help from some inquisitive succubus or other, and it was pleasurable. But they were actual incarnations of illicit sex, and he was sure a man ought not to treat a real woman, a person he cared about, like he would treat a succubus.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, but once awakened, the vision would not go away. How many times had he dreamed of her? How many times had he woken up, heart pounding, with the image of her naked body still in his mind? He dreamed of her stretched beneath him on his bed in the temple, her legs wide apart, her body his to touch, to explore, to take. He dreamed of making her scream, and gasp, and beg for more. A few times, when his demonic blood was particularly aggressive, he dreamed of ripping off her clothes and forcing her into submission ; at these times, he woke up with a scream of genuine horror. But his body burned for hers and it didn't help that she'd come to him, all concerned, and gently talk to him. When he fed her some lie about nightmares of the Abyss, she had actually offered to hold him and watch over him as he slept! Persuading her that it might get her hurt, while the demon inside howled at him to rape her to death, was the hardest thing he had ever done.

And now the demonic taint was gone, yet the voice of lust was strangely similar. It didn't want violence, but its desire was quite violent in itself. Still, Valen has been holding an incomparably stronger demon in check for decades, so he could deal with a secret passion for his combat leader. He lay back on the edge of the pool, arms stretched out on either side, and gave his rigidly erect penis a smirk before closing his eyes.

ΦΦΦ

In a shadowy corner, Rina forced herself to breathe calmly and slowly. The one lamp burning on a side table gave just enough light to etch Valen's muscular body in a pattern of shadows and lights, of strong shapes and soft skin and hard lines and curves here and there. Rina's heart thumped like mad as her gaze slid over his broad chest and his strong shoulders, with a strand of wet, red hair lying softly over the curve of the collarbone. His skin was pale even in this dim light, and he had no hair on his body, apart from his head.

Correction, he does have some hair on his body. And it's just as red.

Rina's lips parted slightly, her hot breath terribly loud in her ears as she looked at his stomach and the thinnest trail of crimson hair that ran in the middle, ending in a tiny fringe over his penis. And that was it – there was no more. It was like a red line that screamed, „Here! Look here!" And she couldn't tear her eyes away sure enough.

Valen was pale, very pale – almost like a statue made of some smooth stone. His blood, as she knew from all the times that he'd shed it, was... different, changing colour and temperature just as his eyes and body did because of it. And now she looked at his erect manhood, its colour hardly different from the rest of him, and she had to dig her fingernails into her hand to stop herself from running to him and swallowing it whole. It looked so... appetising.

She stared, not even aware of the time passing, when she saw Valen's tail rise lazily from the water, the smooth, supple coil covered in the same, thin crimson fur. It whirled around, shedding drops, and gently, slowly, wrapped around his erection. Her eyes widened as she looked at the soft coil stroking it gently, in slow, delicate movements.

Rina realised she was practically drooling. She had thought of Valen's... possibilities with the tail, who didn't? All the female drow in Lith My'atar did, she knew. It was just the way he used it so unthinkingly and so very proficiently. Countless times little Deekin had given Valen some object, a potion or a key or whatever, and Valen took it out of his paw with a precise flick of that tail, because why stoop? But Rina had never, ever suspected that he would use his tail that way, even though it was so obvious now.

She slid one hand between her thighs, stroking her wet lips in time with the movements of Valen's tail. She was practically panting now, but he obviously didn't hear her.

Oh yeah, very mature. Very adult. Really sensible and reasonable and whatnot, the two of you masturbating a few feet from each other instead of just... joining your efforts.

Rina cursed her rebellious mind. Well, what else would she do? He obviously wanted to be alone...

What else? What else?! Bloody hell, woman, he's got a hard shaft ready and waiting, and you're all wet and yearning. And you don't know what to do?
That blonde tart would damn well know what to do!

Rina cursed once more, and, making sure his eyes were closed, silently crept out of the shadows.