Kyron slips his hand out of my pants, taking the warmth of his touch with him. I look up at him as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks each glistening digit one by one.
Meeting my gaze, one side of his mouth ticks up. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Why does he have to look at me like that and say things that start throbbing in my core again? We’re in no position to take what we really need. Fingers and grinding won’t be enough the next time. As much as I hate doing it, I have no choice but to shove my desire down.
“I’m a mess,” I say, sitting up and tying my pants.
“You’re not the only one, princess.”
I purse my lips, holding back a smile. It’s a good feeling knowing I can make him lose control without so much as touching his skin. Although I sort of feel bad about his... predicament. The sticky wet mess in his pants can’t becomfortable. I tuck that thought away, promising to return to it when I can make it up to him.
“The good news is that we passed the time,” he says.
I lift my head and am greeted by the towering archway leading into Sibyl’s capital. Patches of melting snow cover the rustic road and vast plains line either side. Elk and bison graze on the tall brown grass. I watch the peaceful animals, admiring how they stay close together. Even they know there is strength in numbers.
Kyron and I wait for the others to reach us before moving on to the city. Every building is constructed from sun-bleached stone. No matter how big or small, each home looks the same—sloped roofs covered in brown clay tiles and tall pillars along the front. It’s all symmetrical and colorless and drab, yet there is so much beauty found in the throngs of people.
Sibyl is a hodgepodge of the different kingdoms. The Esspress flutter around in colorful billowing pants and shirts, accessorized with gold and jewels. Saras prefer more sensible clothing. Many wear aprons with pockets to carry the instruments they use to heal. In many ways, they remind me of the people in Lucent, opting for colors that easily hide dirt and blood gathered from a hard day’s work. The Allaji are asked to stay in their human forms while in the city, making it easy for others to converse with them. Just like it was on the island, they wear little clothing mixed with a hint of their animal. But it is the blue robes with matching head coverings that are in the majority. Every Sibyl dresses the same, no matter their station in life. Even their leader, the Divine Sibyl, doesn’t stray from the tradition. None of them have names or are defined by a gender. They aren’t bound by the roles found in other societies. They justare, and they dedicate their existence to being the embodiment of the Statera.
Everyone is welcome in this sacred land to connect to the Statera and learn the history of the five kingdoms. It’s the reason we are here. If anyone has an accurate history of Pliris, it will be the Sibyls. Along with keeping records about every kingdom, some have the rare ability to share prophetic words from the Statera. We could get some insight about the outcome of this war if the Statera wishes us to know.
Keeping to less crowded roads, we weave our way through the city. It’s our goal to go virtually unnoticed while we’re here. It isn’t the Sibyls who worry us. Anyone from the five kingdoms can join their order, forgoing their loyalty to their home kingdom and sovereign. So, an Allaji who becomes a Sibyl would never get involved with Zek’s affairs. They’re called to remain neutral in situations such as ours. The same can’t be said for the hundreds of shifters who flock here for other reasons.
We stop at a public washroom just outside the temple gates to give Ashavee a moment to return to her human form and put on her clothes. Kyron and I also dismount Samson and take the opportunity to clean up.
When I emerge from the washroom refreshed, I make my way to Nortus. Ulric hands me the reins and wiggles his red eyebrows saying, “It looks like you and Ky had a nice ride?”
“Don’t go there. If you do, I’ll be forced to tell Ashavee how you were drooling over her all morning,” I say, mounting my horse.
“I wasn’t—she was walking...” Ulric claps his mouth shut, fills his lungs and starts again. “I was just keeping an eye on her.”
I purse my lips and shake my head. “Is that the story you’re going with? What about all the times you stare at her when she’s not in danger?”
“Elle has a point, man. The way you watch Ashavee is almost obscene. I feel like I’m intruding on youralone time,” Terro adds.
Greer steers her horse over to us. “Are you talking about how Ulric undresses Ashavee with his eyes even when she’s a cat?”
Terro and I nod.
“What the fuck?” Ulric throws his hands in the air. “Have you met the woman? She’s insufferable, always talking about artifacts and knowing shit. How can I even have a conversation with her when she’s too smart to talk with?”
Terro leans forward in his saddle, moving his face into Ulric’s line of sight. “But you think she’s sexy.”
“I suppose she’s a nice-looking lady.Butdid you hear me when I said she is too smart?”
“All I hear is that you think she’s sexy, smart, and has one hell of a swaying tail,” Greer says, and Terro and I fall into a fit of laughter.
Kyron takes the steps down from the washroom two at a time and unties Samson from a post. “Are you talking about how Ulric’s new hobby is jaguar watching?”
We laugh harder, and Ulric turns his horse away from us. “I’m halfway thinking it’s time to find some new friends.”
“Come on, Ulric. I’m sure she’ll come around. You’ve been telling us for years what a fine specimen of man you are,” Kyron says with a smirk.
“You’re a massive whale dong...Your Majesty.”
My hand flies to my mouth, stifling a giggle. Kyron has been called many things—hell, I’ve added my own unsavory names to the list—but I don’t think they were ever delivered with such respect.
Ashavee walks out of the building, her fingers working her thick hair into a braid. Her eyes dart between us as she moves closer. “You allow him to talk to you like that?” she asks Kyron.
