Dinner in the Community Hall

The hall glowed with torchlight as villagers gathered for dinner, the long table heavy with roasted venison, barley pilaf, fresh greens, warm bread, and pitchers of dark wine. Laughter and conversation filled the air.

Nereus had scarcely settled when Thalia slid onto the bench beside him. Her green linen shift clung softly to her curves, dark hair spilling loose over one shoulder. She pressed her thigh firmly against his under the table the moment she sat.

“Evening, woodcutter,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “You smell like pine and honest work. I like it.”

She reached for the wine pitcher, letting her arm brush his chest deliberately, her breast grazing his shoulder. “Makes me wonder what else you’re good at handling.”

Nereus felt the heat of her touch through his tunic. “Careful,” he said quietly. “People are watching.”

Thalia laughed softly, pouring wine into both their cups. “Let them watch. We don’t hide what we want here.” Her fingers found his knee beneath the table, tracing slow circles. “And right now I want to know how steady those hands really are.”

She leaned closer, lips near his ear. “You swung that axe like you meant it today. Makes a woman curious what else you can do with that kind of focus.”

Across the hall, Ziva sat at the head of the table in her white gown, eating calmly, her presence commanding quiet attention. Once or twice her gaze drifted toward Nereus—brief, unreadable—before returning to the conversation around her.

Thalia noticed but did not pull away. Instead she slid her hand a fraction higher on his thigh, squeezing lightly. “The Lady’s watching,” she whispered. “But so am I. And I’m not nearly as patient.”

She kept up the quiet flirtation through the meal: a brush of fingers when passing bread, a deliberate lean that let him feel the soft weight of her breast against his arm, low comments about the way sweat had looked on his neck in the woods. Each touch was light, teasing, unmistakably deliberate.

Nereus ate slowly, aware of every point where their bodies met, the warmth of her thigh pressed to his, the promise in her voice. Thalia made no move to leave his side, content to stay close, her hand resting possessively on his leg beneath the table as the hall continued its warm, lively rhythm around them.