Niccolette Ibutatu's Room, the Belleverie Hotel, Uptown
Niccolette sighed, and leaned her head a little more into his chest, shifting gently against him on the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and she just lay there, a long moment, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“Beloved?” Niccolette did not know she was sleeping until Uzoji’s voice woke her. She shifted, eyes fluttering open again, and yawned, blinking up at him. “Mm?” Niccolette yawned again, and curled up tighter against her husband.
Uzoji chuckled, the noise echoing through his chest. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d woken,” his hand traced her hair from her face, slid down the bare skin of her back.
“I have now,” Niccolette said, sleepily. She eased herself up, slowly, and pushed her hair back from her forehead, yawning again. She stretched her arms up over her head, and giggled at the look on her husband’s face. Uzoji reached for her, and Niccolette melted in his arms in the heat of the Roalis day once more.
It was some time before Niccolette splashed in the bathwater once more, her earlier attempt aborted. Uzoji opened the window of the room to let in the faint twist of a breeze, then crossed to a table nearby and went back to wrestling open a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses, and brought them to the bathtub, setting one on the edge for Niccolette, and lifting the other to his lips once he’d sat.
“We should talk about it,” Uzoji said, quietly, settling his arms on his knees. He set the glass down on the tiled floor, and looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
Niccolette picked up her own glass, took a sip, then went back to washing herself with a washcloth.
“I mean it, beloved,” Uzoji said, sighing. “You left, Niccolette.”
“I was angry,” Niccolette shrugged. She finished with the washcloth and set it to the side, and leaned back against the back of the tub. “You did not come find me for some time.”
“I didn’t know where you’d gone!” Uzoji’s voice rose, and tightened in anger. He swallowed, hard, and took a deep breath. “You didn’t answer your seer stone – you didn’t tell me anything about where you were going – I went to the Islands, looking for you. I even thought about going to Florne! If Francoise hadn’t sent that message – ”
Niccolette looked up at him, and shrugged again. “I was angry.”
“I know,” Uzoji groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I made a mistake, Niccolette, and I – I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Niccolette shrugged. “I have forgiven you.”
“You – ” Uzoji paused, lifting his face from his hands. “You have?”
“Mostly,” Niccolette amended. She took another sip of her wine, handed the glass to Uzoji, and rose from the bathtub, stepping out and reaching for a plush robe. Uzoji set the glass down, hurriedly, and rose himself, helping her into it.
Niccolette settled the bathrobe around herself, sat comfortably on the edge of the tub, and began to comb her hair out. She raised her eyebrow at Uzoji again.
Uzoji sank back down into his chair, still looking a little stunned. “When did you forgive me, exactly?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mmm,” Niccolette pursed her lips. “I am not sure. Sometime after getting on the airship, of course. Before just now.”
Uzoji snorted, and then laughed, burying his face in his hands again for a long moment, his shoulders trembling. “All right,” he sighed. “Do you think you’ll forgive me entirely?”
“Mmm… perhaps,” Niccolette turned her head to smile at him, then went back to her ministrations. She fluffed out her hair with her hands, running her fingers through it and leaned forward to set the comb down. After a moment, she hesitated, her hands coming back to the edge of the tub. She held it, tightly, for a long moment; Uzoji did not speak, watching her.
“I am not sorry that I left,” Niccolette said, finally. She looked at him again, her lips pressed together. “But I missed you from the moment I was gone,” she shrugged, looking down. “And I… I could not but be angry with you, and perhaps I still am. But I love you, Uzoji Ibutatu. I shall do my best to accept the bad with the good, and I shall not leave you again.”
“Niccolette,” Uzoji whispered. He slipped to his knees, and wrapped his arms around her waist, and for a long time there was no more need for words between them.
The long shadows of afternoon came eventually, creeping in through the hotel room’s window, finding Niccolette and Uzoji neither in the bed nor the bathroom, but together in the sitting area of the suite. Niccolette, dressed in no more than a shift, sat half in Uzoji’s lap, drinking a little more wine, and accepting the occasional bit of cheese and crackers from him. Uzoji was telling her a story, making her laugh, and Niccolette thought to herself, a little drowsy once more, that there could be no more perfect moment than this.