I run my hand over the back of my neck and turn my face up, allowing the rain to wash over me. “She would do it without a second thought.”
“I think you have your answer then.”
“I think I liked you better when you refused to talk to me,” I grumble.
“You can always assign me back to the main regiment to get me out of your hair.”
“Or I could gag you and have you share a horse with Cohn.”
Rowan spares a glance at the enormous man perched upon an equally massive horse. Cohn focuses his black stare ahead and grunts. Perspiration beads on his round cheeks that ball with his sneer. My most threatening soldier sweats like fluids repulse his body.
“I’ll shut my mouth,” Rowan says.
“Wise choice.”
We ride on, the trees growing thicker and the air thinner as we climb in elevation. The road appears to end, but as we inch closer, it declines into a valley. Fields of tall grass and bright orange, yellow, and purple wildflowers surround hundreds of rustic homes. Each has a wooden rail fence and a thatched roof. A bustling market sits in the center, with striped awnings covering the stands. Horse-drawn carriages clutter the cobblestone streets as the Esspress people go about their day. It reminds me of Lucent before I was king.
A waterfall cascades over a mountain’s mossy rocks, creating the perfect backdrop for the emperor’s castle. The water flows along two streams that circle the perimeter, separating the multi-story stone building from the town. The only way inside is over an arched bridge and through the towering main gate. Nodoubt that one of the countless guards will report our arrival the moment we enter. Our mission feels impossible from here.
“Oh wow,” Rowan whispers with wide eyes.
I follow his gaze to the magnificent ivory sanctuary, looming over the town from a hilltop. At least a dozen spires reach for the clouds, each carved into unique designs—thin and thick, wrapped in intricate vines or sleek geometrical shapes. One pillar is just as eye-catching as the next and represents the uniqueness of every soul who has left this world to join the Statera.
The Esspress share a special bond with the dead, passing on messages to the living and ensuring those who are gone are never forgotten. Many don’t wish to seek the wisdom of those who passed before them, but for those who are curious, Esspress is where they’ll find answers.
Borin pulls his horse beside mine and following behind him is the Sibyl. Even on a horse they have a journal open. Statera forbid they miss a second of what I’ve set out to do. They’re useless in the grand scheme of things; therefore, their presence irritates me. This rescue mission would be a hundred times easier with the help of another kingdom. The Sibyls have turned me down repeatedly, yet they didn’t miss the chance to have my potential failure notated. All they did was give me an extra body to protect. I can’t help but shake my head and roll my eyes every time I see them.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Kyron? There is no shame in finding another way,” Borin says.
“I’m sure.” I reach into my pocket and squeeze the Eporri. The raised petals dig into my palm. I’ve attempted to call upon its power and fallen short each time. Raelle never knew a day of her life without the stone’s gift. The Eporri was such a part of her that she thought the ability to recognize the gifts of a Khiros was a natural talent everyone had. Once she tapped into the sacredgift, she was unstoppable. The way she controlled the power of others was graceful and magnificent. I was in awe of her the very first time she did it, even if her lack of control almost cost me my life. Her connection with the stone was so strong that one would never guess it wasn’t her own power. I, on the other hand, look like an inept moron when I try to use it. I summon others gifts only for it to flicker in their palm and fizzle out before I ever get the chance to wield it. The closest I’ve come to having it follow my command is the day I drew on it to make Raelle believe I siphoned from her. Even then, I was using the Eporri through her.
The rulers before me were introduced to the gift from infancy. By the time they were adults, they recognized its pull and understood the basics of how it works. It will take time and practice for me to truly understand the stone. Time that I do not have.
Our ride through the Esspress’ capital is uneventful. Most of the people don’t so much as spare a glance in our direction. It’s not until we reach the castle’s bridge that two guards stop us and ask that we state our business. I grip Samson’s reins, the sweat covering my palms soaking into the leather. The guards’ deep blue tunics, heavy gold helmets, and breastplates are eye-catching. They look like they would do little for their dexterity in battle. The uniform is too bulky. We could easily plow through them and raid their palace if I ordered it. It’s a thought I tuck away in case my meeting with the emperor’s wife doesn’t go to plan.
When Borin finishes telling the guards that Lasandra is expecting our arrival, they step to the side and allow us to move on. We travel through a long archway constructed of river rocks before we reach a courtyard. Lush green grass and colorful potted plants rest at the palace’s center. Children sit in a circle under one of the many shade-giving trees while a woman walksaround them. They hold leather-bound books, following along as she reads aloud. Men and women adorned in billowing silks and hundreds of jewels stroll the colonnade, peering at us through more stone archways. They speak in hushed voices while taking in our dark and dusty clothing. We stand out like a fucking sore thumb. Everything in Esspress is so colorful and vibrant.
A middle-aged man with thinning hair and sagging jowls takes Samson’s reins, and a young woman in pale pink pants and matching cropped blouse bows before me.
“King Kyron, if you will follow me, my lady has requested your audience in her personal quarters,” she says.
I glance back at Borin, seeking his advice. In most cases, the last place anyone should want to be is in a married person’s private quarters. Especially when one is seeking the help of said person’s husband. The private affairs of royalty have a way of moving quickly from mouth to ear. After so many years of Lasandra using her status in such auniqueway, the emperor has to be aware of his wife’s sexual escapades. I just hate to add my name as another notch in her bedpost.
Borin nods, and I square my shoulders and follow Lasandra’s servant.
“My sisters will entertain your soldiers and make sure they are fed,” she says as we walk away.
Another dozen women hurry onto the road, giggling and swooning. Borin isn’t impressed, but Rowan and my guards are quick to take the outstretched hands offered to them. The group disappears through a nearby set of double doors, and I follow my guide. She leads me down a corridor with shiny cream floors and life-size oil paintings of naked people in various sexual acts. It doesn’t escape my notice that at least one person in each painting is wearing a crown. Perhaps the emperor encourages Lasandra’s infidelity, even gets off on the thought of it. I can’t even imagine. If someone else were to act out these paintedscenes with Raelle, my jealousy would make sure they lost a few fingers. If not more.
We reach a set of rustic doors with brass handles. The woman flashes me a cheeky grin before wrenching them open to reveal a candle-lit room. My stomach roils as I step over the threshold. The doors click shut behind me and I jerk, my heart hammering against my ribs. Flames flicker over crimson walls and black sheer curtains mute the light from the window. An enormous bed sits in the center of the room with leather straps secured to its four posts. Horse crops, collars, and paddles adorn one wall, and an overstuffed chair faces to the foot of the bed. I swallow past the lump in my throat, knowing I just entered a space designed to feed sexual kinks.
“Aren’t you a scrumptious morsel,” says a smokey voice.
I spin on my heels and a woman with silky black hair and tan skin saunters out of the shadows. Thin violet fabric wraps around her curvaceous body, crossing over her ample chest. The slits on each side of her skirt run up to her waist, giving me an unobstructed view of her long legs. Every inch of her is on display, from the juncture of her legs to the hard peaks of her breasts. She doesn’t appear much older than me, but I know from Borin’s story that she’s at least as old as him. And fuck, she’s stunning.
I lower my head in a sign of respect and to gather my wits. “Thank you for asking your husband to meet with me, Lasandra.”
“So submissive. I was told you are a warrior, Kyron LeFur. I had expectations of you being demanding and wild.” She walks around me before stopping, sliding a slender finger under my chin, and lifting my face to meet hers. Her tongue darts out, skimming her rosy lips, and she bats her long lashes. “And I’ve not granted you anything yet. I believe I requested a trade before I took you to my husband.”
