He takes my hand and brings it back between us. Closing my fingers around his hard cock, he says, “Show me one more time why I love you for strokingotherthings.”
I slide my hand down, happy to do just that. Two knocks on the door bring me to a halt. I move to pull away, but Kyron grabs my wrist.
“Please, don’t stop,” he groans.
I glance across the room, watching the door as I move my hand down his shaft. Satisfied that our visitor has left, I hold him tighter. His silky skin glides through my fist once... twice.
Four rapid blows thunder throughout the quiet room. I slip out of Kyron’s hold and pull the blanket around me. “If I’ve learned anything during my time training to be sovereign, it’s that no one knocks on your door unexpectedly and continuously unless it’s an emergency.”
With swift steps, I move toward the door. My fingers brush the knob when Kyron jumps in front of me. He yanks his pants over his hips and tugs the front lace taut. “This person is already wearing on my nerves. If they ogle your half-naked body, I’ll be tempted to order their execution.”
I roll my eyes and gesture for him to take the lead.
“This better be good,” Kyron says while swinging the door open.
Terro stands in his olive uniform jacket with an envelope in his hand. The black braids which normally hang loose around his face are held with a leather band high on his head. His youthful features are marred by deep lines between his brow and on each side of his full lips. The beautiful deep brown of his skin has lost its luster. He doesn’t so much as flinch at Kyron’s harsh greeting, taking us in with a blank stare.
“What’s wrong?” Kyron asks, pulling his friend into the room.
“I was riding in from Basecamp this morning to have breakfast with Ulric and Greer. When I entered the town square...” He rips his gaze from us and looks to the open sky on the other side of the room. His throat bobs like he is trying to hold down the contents of his stomach.
“Terro?” I say, stepping around Kyron and placing my hand on our friend’s shoulder.
“A pile of bones, waist high, was placed at the base of King Micah’s statue. This was sitting on top of them.”
Terro hands Kyron the letter addressed to the king. I don’t have to ask who it’s from. The familiar wax seal on the back says it all.
Lessons taught by Ashavee flood my mind. The Allaji have many traditions. Some are simplistic but beautiful, and others are brutal. The war ritual is one of the cruelest customs they practice. It doesn’t matter if it’s two feuding clans or entire kingdoms. If the Allaji wish to shed blood, they let their rivals know by presenting the bones of one of their enemy’s own to them. I have no doubt that the bones Terro found were those of Cyffreds. My people who were most likely eaten by our enemy. Their death is now a warning that in the matter of days, war will be upon us.
I run my hand up and down Terro’s spine. The gesture is just as much for my comfort as it is for his while we wait for Kyron to read. His dark eyes scan the letter, each word bringing an angry shade of red to his face. His entire body shakes as he crumples the note in his fist.
“How many people know about the bones?” Kyron asks.
“Me and the two soldiers who rode in with me. We had them cleaned up before dawn. They’re in burlap bags behind the stables for now.”
“I don’t want the counsel knowing about this. Let Borin know what’s going on and tell him to call a meeting with my circle. Everyone is to meet in the dining hall for a late breakfast within the next hour.”
Terro gives Kyron a curt nod and turns to me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. He smells like campfire and dust. It reminds me of a time when things seemed so hard, but looking back, it was some of the best moments in my life.
“It’s good to see you, Elle,” he says.
“You too. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“This isn’t bad,” he says, sweeping his gaze from my bare feet to the top of the blanket covering my chest.
“Go. Now.”
Kyron’s command has Terro jumping away, but not before he gives me a wink.
As soon as the door closes, Kyron marches to his closet and slips inside. His voice is muffled as he says, “You are not to leave the palace walls without guards. Not a stroll in the gardens or a horse ride in the pastures. Someone capable of keeping you secure is to be with you at all times.”
The utter fear masked behind his brave bravado is the only thing that keeps my feet planted. I want to march into his closet and shake his shoulders until he realizes the way he is speaking to me. Yes, I am a loyal subject in his kingdom, but we are more. I expect him to talk to me and not bark orders without giving me a reason.
He hurries out of the closet, pulling a black tunic over his head, and rushes into the washroom. I keep my gaze on him while moving to the doorway. Even if what he said didn’t tell me he was in a panic, the way he jerks on the faucet and slathers too much toothpaste on his brush does. He doesn’t stop moving, vigorously brushing and rinsing out his mouth. Water drips from his fingers before he brings them to his hair and combs it down. He spins on his heels, and I cross my arms over my chest, blocking him from leaving.
“Talk to me. What did the letter say that made you so upset?” I ask.
He places his hands on my cheeks and looks into my eyes. The weight of his stare only adds to the fear I feel radiating from him, but I don’t shy away. I need him to see that I’ve always got him. He is never alone in anything he must face, even if I’m not sitting on a throne beside him.
