Leander smiled, licking his lips in anticipation. He hadwanted this for so long and he would remember this as what it was to sink so completely into another’s soul.
There was nothing unhurried about the way JarrynclaimedLeander’s lips. The demigod’s hands were anchored on Jarryn’s hips, a grip that was necessary for him to stay upright. He was finally experiencing what he had been daydreaming about for months… ever since first seeing the prince.
Time seemed to stand still as their kiss deepened, an intimate dance of their tongues and lips. Jarryn tasted of strawberries, and Leander imagined it was that artificial sweetener in that tea he liked so much. In the tea itself, it was deplorable. On Jarryn’s lips? He would be the happiest man in Cariun if that was the only flavour he ever got to taste again.
“Do it again,” Leander whispered when Jarryn pulled his lips away.
“So greedy.” Jarryn laughed but did not oblige. “Come on, Leo.”
As they walked, it didn’t take long for Leander to fall into a full description of his newfound passion of visiting orphanages. After the visit to the hospital, he had realised how much he liked working with children. More so than adults. He was attending children’s homes throughout the city of his own volition, and not because his father dictated a schedule to him.
During one of his many stories, during which Leander was trying to explain his plans to formalise state care of these displaced children, Leander suddenly stopped. “I’m sorry, I doubt you wanted a lecture,” he said, deciding toshut up before he could bore Jarryn further, favouring the prince with a gentle smile.
Leander ducked his head but he very quickly felt pressure under his chin as two of Jarryn’s fingers gently but firmly forced him to raise his head and stare into bright blue eyes. They had stopped walking.
“Never apologise for being passionate about something.” Jarryn’s voice was soft, quiet as he tried to instil a sense that Leander’s opinion mattered. Jarryn’s fingers remained under Leander’s chin for a long moment after he had spoken.
When satisfied, Jarryn dropped his hand and the pair continued to meander through the streets of Saeren.
Leander continued to share. “There’s one girl, lost her mother to the pox a few years ago. I remember her from before her mother died, when she prayed to me,beggingme to make her mother believe that she was too sick to go to her ballet class.”
Jarryn smiled at the story. “And did her mother believe it?”
“No. Not in the slightest.”
“You couldn’t just give that little girl her one request?”
Leander dropped his gaze to the floor. “I was on the other side of Cariun, I didn’t hear her plea until it was too late.”
The prince cocked his head to the side, as if coming to the realisation for the first time that the gods were not infallible, that their power wasn’t absolute and certain. Leander watched Jarryn’s face warp and change as he realised that the very nature of the gods was so subject to afleeting chance. No wonder prayers and libations went unanswered so often.
“Turns out… that little girl caught the pox from another girl in her ballet class. She survived, but her mother contracted it too, and she wasn’t as fortunate as the little girl.”
Frowning, Jarryn, hand still holding Leander’s, moved his thumb in circles across the back of his hand in a show of comfort. The demigod glanced down, as if just remembering their fingers were entwined. Sorrowfully, he pulled his hand free.
What a way to kill the mood, Leander thought to himself, when he had been promised more than just a good time with the prince tonight. He decided he would prefer to… just go home instead.
Laughing out a mirthless laugh, he continued. “That girl has been in an orphanage ever since, and she has nothing to look forward to, except menial work in a factory. Her mother had been the king’s own farrier, with enough income to set her daughter up for life. I’ve done some digging and I cannot fathom what happened to that money. She has nothing to her name now. No future to speak of.”
Looking over at the prince, he saw an equally sorrowful expression on his face, and he was heartbroken to have been the one to cause it.
“There you go, Your Highness, I could have saved that little girl’s mother… with a lie. And I didn’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Bazaar was the biggest and most bustling marketplace in Saeren or, indeed, Vyrica, where magic and commerce coalesced to create an extraordinary shopping experience for visitors and locals alike. Nestled in the very heart of Saeren, the market was adorned with vibrant banners indicating what each stall was selling. The air was filled with the intense aroma of exotic spices, enchanting potions, and the hint of cured meats.
As Leander entered through the grand archway marking the start of the market, he found himself looking upon a labyrinth of winding cobblestone streets lined with ornate stalls and fantastical shops. Each vendor offered an array of wares that catered to the needs and desires of adventurers, locals, mercenaries, and even their horses.
Many of the stalls were adorned with shimmering fabrics, and the marketplace was illuminated by floatingorbs of light that would change colours as they hovered above the bustling and loud crowd.
Ethereal music played by unseen minstrels added a magical ambiance, echoing through the market and creating a sense of wonder for everyone, including Leander.
Here, if he so wished it, Leander could find mystical artefacts, such as enchanted swords that glowed with an otherworldly light, crystal balls that could reveal glimpses of the future, and cloaks that would supposedly grant invisibility. Potion stalls wanted to entice customers with bubbling cauldrons filled with elixirs promising everything from eternal youth to the ability to speak with animals.
Leander believed none of it.
The food section of the Bazaar was his favourite: a feast for the senses. He could see stalls offering fantastical fruits that would change flavour with every bite, and other vendors selling dragon-shaped pastries that sparkled with edible glitter.
