Word spread through the Elven palace like spilled wine.
By the second morning, every attendant, every guard, every silver-haired courtier who passed Renji in the corridors gave him a wide berth and a carefully blank face.
Some whispered behind their hands. Others simply stared at the floor until he was gone.
The story of the throne had already mutated into half a dozen versions—most of them accurate enough to make the queen’s personal staff avoid eye contact entirely.
Renji didn’t care.
He walked the halls the same way he walked everything else: hands in his pockets, posture lazy, expression mildly bored. Aya stayed close on his left, thick and warm and still moving with that careful gait that said last night’s throne had left its marks. Lira stayed on his right, smaller, quieter, her new soft clothes fitting a little awkwardly on the slim body that still carried faint traces of forest and seawater.
The three of them ate in the east wing’s private dining room. Servants delivered trays and left as fast as protocol allowed. No one lingered.
{Feared figure of the palace. Cute. They act like I’m going to erase the concept of their next paycheck if they look at me wrong. Whatever. Food’s good. Girls are better.}
Daily life settled into a strange rhythm.
Training courtyards in the mornings. Quiet corridors in the afternoons. The queen’s full support meant no one questioned their presence, their rooms, or the way Aya’s summons occasionally padded through the gardens when she felt like it.
The tiger liked the sunlight. The wolf liked the shadows under the living-wood arches.
Renji liked the fact that no one bothered them.
Until the afternoon Lira decided she needed a shower.
The bathing chamber in their suite was all pale stone and soft light, a wide open space with a rainfall spout and enough room for three.
Lira went in alone, cloak left on a bench, wings already half-spread in anticipation of warm water.
Renji waited thirty seconds.
Then he followed.
She had just stepped under the spray when the door opened. Water ran down long pale hair, over slim shoulders, down the soft curve of her back and the faint glow of her wings. She turned, startled, arms coming up instinctively.
“Renji—? I was just—”
He closed the door behind him and walked in fully clothed, already rolling his sleeves up.
“You looked like you needed help washing.”
Lira’s eyes went wide. Water beaded on her lashes. Her hands stayed crossed over her chest for a second longer, then slowly lowered when she saw the look on his face.
The same look from the forest. The same look from the night he had made her say her name while pinned under him.
She swallowed.
“…Okay.”
He stepped under the spray with her, clothes getting soaked, and turned her so her back was to his chest.
One arm banded around her slim waist. The other hand slid down, parted her thighs, and pushed two fingers into her without preamble.
Lira’s head dropped back against his shoulder with a soft, startled moan.
Her wings fluttered hard against his soaked shirt. He worked her slowly at first—long strokes, curling, spreading—while the warm water ran over both of them. His mouth found the side of her neck, then her ear.
“You came in here to ease yourself,” he murmured, fingers moving deeper. “Didn’t you?”
She nodded, small and shaky, hips already rolling into his hand.
“Thought so.”
He kept the pace steady and thorough, thumb finding her clit while two fingers curled inside. Lira’s moans grew higher, thinner.
Her hands gripped his forearm. Her wings kept twitching every time the water hit the sensitive membranes. He felt her getting closer, walls tightening, breath turning into short gasps against his neck.
He didn’t stop.
When she came the first time under the spray it was with a sharp, helpless cry, body locking up, clear fluid pulsing around his fingers and washing down her thighs with the water. Her knees buckled. He held her up easily, kept his fingers moving through the aftershocks, and only slowed when she was shaking and soft against him.
Lira’s voice was small and wrecked.
“…That’s just how it is with you, isn’t it.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded once, acceptance settling in, and turned her face into his neck while the water continued to run over both of them.
Later that afternoon Renji walked the palace corridors alone.
The same careful blank faces followed him. Attendants stepped aside. Guards looked at the floor. Word of the throne had clearly joined the story of the erased forest. He ignored all of it.
A soft voice called from a side archway.
“Human.”
One of the queen’s personal attendants—silver hair, composed face, the same careful politeness as the ones from the night before. Renji stopped. For half a second he assumed the obvious.
{She wants another round. Fine. Throne was comfortable enough.}
Instead the attendant inclined her head and gestured toward a private solar.
“Her Majesty requests your presence. There have been demon sightings near the western borders. She wishes your… assistance.”
The solar was smaller, quieter, filled with the same soft light. The queen sat near a tall window, the green gown replaced by something simpler but still elegant. She looked composed again. The only signs of the previous day were the faint shadows under her eyes and the way she sat a little too carefully.
She got straight to it.
“Demons have been sighted near the western borders. Small groups so far. Testing. I would prefer they not become larger groups. You will assist.”
Renji leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“Not worried about it.”
The queen’s gaze sharpened.
“You will be compensated, of course.”
“How much?”
She blinked once, the first real crack of irritation.
“I am literally housing you. Feeding you. Protecting your companions.”
Renji considered that for a second.
“Two nights.”
The queen stared at him.
“Two nights,” he repeated, calm. “With you. That’s the price.”
A long silence. Then she sighed, deep and resigned, the same sound Aya made when she had finally accepted the third.
“Two nights it is. Feel free to pick any of the servants if you prefer variety.”
Renji pushed off the wall and walked closer until he was standing directly in front of her chair.
“No. It’s you I pick.”
Her eyes widened again. For a second the composed mask slipped completely. Then she closed them, exhaled once, and nodded.
“Very well. Do what you want.”
Renji smiled, small and satisfied.
“Good.”
He turned and headed for the door, already calculating the western borders and how many demons he felt like erasing before dinner.
Behind him the Elven Queen sat very still, gown carefully arranged again, and for the second time in two days had nothing left to say.
Outside, the palace corridors stayed carefully empty as he passed.
Word was still spreading.
He didn’t care.