“Take my hand,” urged the villain.
“Take my hands,” they whispered again, pushier this time. The hero hesitantly reached out, and the villain interlaced their fingers with their own.
The hero’s cheeks heated. That was one reason to be thankful for the lack of lighting. “What, scared of the dark?”
“No, idiot, I’m proving that neither of us is the killer.” Then, quieter, “I’m proving to myself that you’re not the killer. That I can trust you, just a little.”
Their cheeks flared hotter. Oh, this was the last thing they needed. “This proves nothing to me,” they snapped. “I know full well what you’re capable of, how many hands you have on your side. Just because yours are occupied with mine, doesn’t mean your henchmen aren’t turning their talents to assassination elsewhere.”
“They’re not henchmen,” the villain chided. “Spies would be more accurate.”
“Knives in the dark?” the hero added pointedly. The villain’s hands were soft and delicate, every knuckle protruding. They fought down the urge to go soft, dug their nails in instead. “You can’t fool me.”
“Shame, that.” The villain squeezed gently, their blinding half-smile almost visible in the darkness. “Would make my life much easier.”
“I do not live to make anything easy for you.”
“Except the view,” they replied, and oh there was a full smile, radiant and on the edge of glowing. “You do tend to make that easier on the eyes.”
They did not blush. They did not. “You’re an improvement on the blood and bodies at least.”
“How charming.” The villain paused, then raised their voice. “Everyone pair off. One Relian to every Tarai, clasp hands or hold wrists. Don’t let go until the lights come back on. I want to know immediately if anyone so much as loosens their grip. Am I understood?”
Murmurs of assent rose in both languages, and shuffling sounds filled the room. The hero scowled. Goddess, they hated how persuasive the villain was.
Of course, their persuasiveness was why this tentative peace had been sprung in the first place. How the fountain of all that was unholy had talked them all into a ceasefire, the hero didn’t know. Perhaps these sudden deaths were the punishment for promising pacts with their prophesied nemesis.
“I’m considering which cell will best hold you when the lights come up.
The villain tutted. “Now now, that doesn’t sound very peaceable of you.”
“Murdering people isn’t very peaceable of you!”
The villain’s smile dropped for the first time. “I told you, it’s not me. I genuinely abhor the sight of blood, can’t stand dead bodies. Why do you think all my conquests have been through bribery, flattery, coup, and alliance?”
That…was actually true. Not for the first time, dismay fluttered in the hero’s chest. Was this dinner the villain’s first step in conquering their own nation? “That doesn’t fill me with confidence either.”
“Difficult to please, hmm? That’s alright, I’m an expert at giving pleasure.” They winked, tongue caught between their teeth. “As I’m more than willing to demonstrate.”
The hero’s blush dipped right down to their collarbones. “This is ridiculous,” they hissed. “I am not touching you while you insult my devotion to my goddess. Let me go.”
“I don’t care what you meant, let me go! You murder our ambassador, shut down the lights, make up excuses to hold my hands, and insinuate that you want to do- want to do deprived things to me! I won’t have it! I shouldn’t have let you in here in the first place-“
“No, you can’t convince me otherwise, your pretty words won’t-“
“Hero,” they snapped, “shut up. Another body just dropped.”