Mispronounce One Word is:
Phaine led the group into the antechamber, carrying one of the flickering candles that they had used to light Mira’s bedroom. The thief moved quietly enough that Ness wondered if cat claws were the only enhancements the woman had. The dim candlelight was barely enough to see by, but not enough to rouse the sleeping guard.
“Hey, Mira?” Ness peeled away from the door and floated behind Mira’s elbow, careful not to touch her. “Not now, Ness,” Mira muttered, waving her away dismissively, and ignoring Ness’s answering scowl.
Ness slipped out of bed on bare feet, and moved toward the inner bedroom door across wood floors, worn smooth by years and hundreds of different guests’ boots. She had kept one of the towels tied around her as a makeshift dress before bed, hesitant to sleep naked in an unfamiliar place— their clothes were not meant to be returned until some time in the morning. She was grateful for that choice.
The bath was incredible. Ness moaned in simple ecstasy as she lowered herself into the hot water. After days— weeks? She had lost count— of living rough and of so much walking, the feeling was absolutely exquisite. She swore she would never step foot outside a city again.
Phaine stared down at the tankard of ale like she was a gambler and she thought the beer was bluffing.
It was difficult to converse with Mictlan while they walked back across the plains, which Ness thought was probably for the best— Mira did not seem to be in any mood for conversation. The three walked single file, back the way Mira and Ness had just come. They had a long walk ahead of them, and Ness was extremely unenthusiastic about it.
As Ness grew accustomed to her magically-enhanced sense of smell, she realized that she could discern not only Mictlan’s trail, and hints of the wild animals around them— but also the scent of Mira’s skin, silky and spicy, and the salt tang of her sweat. She ran harder, muscles burning despite the magic coursing through her. She ran hard enough that she couldn’t think of how good Mira’s skin would feel, with all of that energy surging through her.
“Ness, wake up.” … “Ness, come on!” The voice was urgent, quiet, and right next to her ear. Ness groaned exhaustedly, and tried to roll away from it.
“No no no no no no no no—” Ness was hugging her knees to her chest at the side of the trail, hyperventilating.
Mira rested her injured hand on Ness’s leg, and the power flowed into her; a still powerful stream, but manageable. Barely. She breathed deeply, careful to not let the pain radiating from her hand leak into her voice, or disrupt her metre.