Yes.
They shared a bedroom—courtesy of Dinnah and her suspiciously naughty sense of humor. The room housed an incredibly large bed, but Regn insisted on sleeping on the floor, the farthest away from her he could.
The awkward situation made Maeve fluster. Even though she trusted Regn and didn’t mind his company, the fact he couldn’t contain his nervousness around her was an entirely different issue.
“Has that lovely boy made you a woman yet?” Dinnah’s playful voice shook her from her thoughts.
Maeve turned at least five different shapes of red before managing an answer. “I’m not even going to bother answering that!” Does she even know how to be discreet?
Dinnah chuckled, turning once more to grind the seeds they gathered the previous day. “I’m just curious, he seems really fond of you, and he is quite the looker,” she pouted, “are you not attracted to the poor lad?”
Maeve shook her head. “He is my friend! I care about him, but... I mean, he...!” She was making a fool of herself, her words pilling up. Maeve pressed her lips and frowned instead. “You are so annoying!”
Her frown would not deter Dinnah. “I don’t see the problem, I’m just suggesting a little healthy fun.”
“You might think that way, but for me, it’s a very important decision. They taught me a woman should only lay with her husband.”
The she-elf gagged. Apparently, the teachings of the church of the Ancients were not of her liking. “Such a waste of good company.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess... if you think that way, young Regn is not the one you consider as a proper companion.”
Maeve knew the answer, but instead of allowing Dinnah into her thoughts, she lowered her eyes, focusing on grinding the seeds.
The change didn’t go unnoticed by the elf. “Oooh! So there is someone else!” True. Maeve couldn’t care less about keeping her virtue intact until her marriage, or any other hogwash the church might have forced on her. In fact, she was certain the thoughts roaming her mind would have set the church on fire if she were to confess them.
She missed Hakken. She wanted to see him, to hold him, to enjoy his rough hands on her. Maeve fantasized about his touch ever since that night in the Warlock’s pond, longing to be alone with him, carefree and relaxed. Every morning she imagined waking up with him, safe in his arms while he fondly doted on her like he used to. They would talk about simple things, beautiful things, and daydream about their future.
“Helloooo?” Dinnah waved a hand in front of her face, making her realize she was smiling.
“I don’t know what interesting thoughts crossed that pretty head of yours, but I’m sure now poor little Regn has no chance.”
It was late at night when Maeve entered her bedroom, dragging her feet. Dinnah had offered her a light dinner, and as usual, Regn was nowhere to be seen. She washed and went to sleep right after her meal, but as she entered the dim-lit room, she found Regn sitting on the small terrace that opened to the night sky. Their room occupied one of the highest section of the shell, still far from Astika’s room, which was a relief, given the never-ending parade of brides visiting his chambers.
She walked to sit next to Regn, who shuffled a little to give her space. They watched in comfortable silence as the last lights sank under the horizon. It was a cool, peaceful night. Out of the corner of her eye, Maeve saw dark figures flying high over the trees, soundlessly drawing near. One by one, the beautiful creatures flew past them in perfect harmony, filling the scenery with their gracious forms. “What are they?” she whispered, turning to Regn.
For an instant, his eyes reflected the setting sun and the shapes of the flying women. “Birch witches,” he answered, “better be quiet now. They have great hearing and don’t like to be bothered while they migrate.”
They both turned to gaze at them. Hundreds of women perched on blackened branches. Their gray skin, striped by dark carvings, so like the bark of a tree. Their delicate hands and dangling feet, the same color as charcoal. From their cheeks, a thick crown of branches raised above their heads, concealing their eyes.
A few turned to look at them, faint smiles on their faces. Maeve relaxed, enjoying some peace for the first time in days. It was a wonderful sight. Regn’s voice ringed by her side. “Maeve.”
“Mm...?” She was so serene she took a moment to turn to him. But when she did, all her senses came back heightened tenfold.
A gentle glint shone in Regn’s eyes when he reached to touch her face, leaning forward. If not for the intensity of the moment, Maeve wouldn’t have noticed the slight trembling of his hand. She remained still, captivated by his tenderness.
He didn’t crush his lips against hers. It was a soft kiss, almost coy. But then it wasn’t, and as the kiss became deeper and more demanding, she lost control over her powers. Maeve had mastered the ability to block the emotions she sensed when it was not a necessity. But now she couldn’t concentrate, and Regn’s feelings flooded her.
Maeve couldn’t resist the warmness taking over her body. Instead of pushing him away, she clutched his shirt, relaxing in his embrace while his hands traveled down her back.
My first kiss! Did the little peck she gave Hakken counted? He was almost unconscious, and she only grazed his lips. Why was she thinking about Hakken now? He was a brute! Impulsive and rude. And yes, she liked him that way, but Hakken wouldn’t kiss her delicately, he would—
“Damn it!” Regn broke the kiss and backed away a little too harshly. Maeve stared at him, not understanding what just happened.
He crossed his arms over his knees, his head hanging in defeat. And then she realized. With no tap over her own emotions, she had been fantasizing about
