Dueling Houses

“Who would have thought?” Mauria asked. “A necromancer and an enchantress, lying in bed together. Furthermore, not trying to kill one another.”

Swan rolled onto her side, tucking the quilt over her chest against the morning chill. “You only say that because our clans have been at war for over two thousand years.”

Mauria chuckled, threading her cool fingers under the blankets to trace over Swan's hip. “War is a drastic turn of phrase, I would say. A feud, perhaps.”

“Last week the Dread Lich Kammon tore down the grand chapel in Miridia,” Swan said, flinching at Mauria's cold hands before taking them into her own to warm them up.

“And he could have done much worse,” Mauria replied. “Not one casualty. It was a symbol as much as anything.”

Swan sighed, clutching Mauria's hands tightly. “I suppose you're right. The fight doesn't have the spirit it did in centuries past. It is more points of pride and tit for tat. Miridia's council had repaired the chapel the next day, after all. I imagine next week they'll raid a crypt in Inis'fal just to say they got their revenge.”

Chuckling deep in her throat, Mauria shifted her body up against Swan's, letting vital warmth fight with the cold of death that clung to Mauria's kind. “If only they knew how much better they could be spending their times.”

“If only,” Swan purred. “One request, though?”

“Yeess?” Mauria replied, already kissing her way down Swan's neck.

“Can your... butler stay outside the room this time?”