[PAST ] A Quiet Rendezvous

Darkness shrouded the patrons around them, his magic was all around her, and then, so were his arms. His mouth found hers, and she leaned into the kiss. Into him. In this moment, nothing existed except them, in this booth, in this tavern.

She returned the kiss with as much fervor as he. Her fingers curled against the old grimoire in her hands, pressed against his chest as she leaned forward. The kiss ended, and she was still chasing him, breathless, a little dizzy. Less than an inch from his face. She laughed quietly, cheeks flushed, Magnus— His eyes met hers, and she leaned forward to steal a kiss. Much more chaste than the kiss she'd been chasing him for. —I'd... like that. The words were murmured. As she settled next to him, instead of practically in his lap, her gaze swept the tavern. Part of her felt guilty; wanted to tell the man beside of her that she was a married woman. But she had no idea if he was alive; no idea how poorly their plan had failed.

That didn't stop the guilt, though. She was married until she knew he was dead (or was convinced her husband was dead). She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. Who owns this place, now? I heard it'd been sold when I first came back to Antiva. Shame, I was going to purchase it and staff it. A distraction from her thoughts; from the warring thoughts of guilt. Nobody knew, nobody had seen. He'd ensured that. And she knew her husband had had affairs while she was married off in the Marches.

...but still, guilt whispered in her ear, telling her what a bad wife she was being; a bad mother; a bad queen. She didn't let that show though, as she raised her eyebrows and waited for an answer to her question. Magnus was surely on the up-and-up about all of the things that happened on the streets and businesses of Antiva. He'd always enjoyed information.