Chapter 15b: A Meeting in the Dark

"What do ya tink yer doin', Tomay Raish?"

"Just trying to comfort you a little."

She pushed him back. "Well, ye won't be confortin' me like tat, so ye jus keep yer hands to yerself. For gods' sakes, me ma and pa might be dead. Ye tink for one minute tat I'm wantin' to let ye have yer way wit' me r'now. Ye must be daft!"

They stood near the wall of a dark, seldom used corridor. For the past several months they had met here to be away from prying eyes. Not the most romantic place, but they could call it their own, one of the few easily accessible spots in the palace that offered privacy. The unlikely location had given them some memorable moments.

She could just make out Tomay's frown, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry Clowey. It's just with all that's happened...well...I thought...I figured this might be our last chance. I just want to be with you one more time before the end."

She placed her hand on his cheek. "Tat be awfully sweet of ye, but I knows ye better tan tat. T'end of t'world ain't got a durn ting to do wit' it. Yer always wantin to rut, tis ere jus' gives ye an excuse." She pulled her hand away and gave him a playful slap on the cheek. "Now, ye needs to be tinkin' aboot soldierin' so ye can get us out o' tis mess. Ye do dat an' I promise ye tat ye'll be tired o' ruttin' before I's trough wit ye."

His teeth shown in the darkness, the first smile she had seen from him all day. "I guess I'm gonna have to start soldiering if I'm gonna make you pay up on that promise."

She placed her arms on his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his head as he held her waist. "Ye certainly will, Sir Raish. Ye certainly will."

He tipped his head down and gave her a passionate kiss, keeping his hands in the neutral area of her waist. She crossed her arms over the back of his neck, returning his affection and giving a final squeeze before breaking the kiss.

"We'd best stop tis now or yer gonna start gettin' ideas again."

A stench assaulted her nostrils as Tomay wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed. His lips went to her neck. "Yeah, I got an idea or two..."

"Stop it Tomay! Do ye smell tat smell?"

His breath tickled her neck. "All I smell is you Clowey and it smells damned fine."

She shoved him away. "Not me ye bloody stooge. Do ye smell it now dat ye got yer nose outa me hair? A rottin', mulchy smell. Like a compost pile."

He sniffed. "Yeah, I do smell someth..."

A hand, obsidian black, grasped his shoulder from behind as his eyes widened and his mouth grew into a silent 'O'.

Clowey stepped back, her mouth open to scream. A fist shot out of the dark. Instead of a scream she heard a loud crack as pain exploded in the middle of her face and bright sparks filled her vision. The force of the blow threw her backwards where her head slammed against the wall. She slid to the ground. Everything went dark.