“Forgive us,” she whispered. “We are yours to command.”
CHAPTER 47
LYKOR
The reek of flowers clogged Lykor’s lungs like a rotting sickness. One of the offending blossoms dangled from a vine coiled around the nearest pillar.
He flicked it. The swollen bulb of nectar quivered and a yellow petal tumbled free. Snatched by the flowing breeze, it spiraled out of the airy villa and down to the courtyard below.
Lykor curled his fingers into a fist, his agitation nearly driving him to beat the marbled column to dust. His talons bit into his palm—an irritating reminder that these winged scavengers had stripped him of his armor. Stolen his gauntlet.
And in the place of his leathers, before they’d even been ushered from the arena, the druids had shoved him into this. Silk.
Sunweave,Aesar corrected.
Lykor’s lip curled.I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY FUCKING CALL IT.
It was the same ridiculous, flowing raiment worn by their leader. That Kaedryn. Supposedly his only option of clothing—unless he wanted to remain nude.
Hardly an hour had passed since the druids had scrambled, bowing and groveling as they tripped over each other, whiskinghis group away to this gilded prison—the finest chambers in the guild masters’ palace. In an elaborate procession, they’d been herded into carriages drawn by hulking desert beasts, their humped backs arched like the rolling dunes.
Lykor’s jaw tightened as he glared at the lavish rooms sprawled around him. An illusion of openness. Of light and air, as if the wind itself had woven the quarters from sand and stone. Weightless curtains that were nearly identical to his stars-forsaken robes swayed lazily, framing a delicate tapestry of fountains and pools.
A cage.
I’d say this is quite an improvement over the dungeons,Aesar mused, thumbing his chin as he drifted over the mosaic tiles.
Sunlight streamed in patches across the floor, casting glimmers over scenes of dragons flying with druids, their stories entwined.
Lykor kicked off the sandals he’d been gifted—another useless ornament forced on him—and began pacing.
SINCE WHEN CAN YOU CRAWL OUT OF OUR HEAD?
Aesar shrugged.Never thought to try before.
Lykor exhaled sharply, tension twinging across his shoulders. He stalked away from Aesar, who was circling the pedestal where Kaedryn had left her Starshard-adorned jewelry, studying the trinket.
Aesar reappeared at his side, flickering at the corner of his vision.
DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT?Lykor growled, eyes slicing toward him.
I don’t see what the difference is whether I’m inside our mind or out.
YOUR PRESENCE IS AGITATING ME.
How do you thinkIfeel?Aesar waved around the chambers.All of this restless pacing and brooding.He glanced toward the terrace.I want to see the city this evening—beforethe moons rise.
Drawing to a halt, Lykor threw his head back and tried to rub away the ache in his skull. But he couldn’t. Aesar was permanent.
He could already picture the events unfolding—Aesar galavanting across the streets, prying into forgotten libraries, conferring with the druids to peel back the layers of history with his relentless curiosity.
And what’s so wrong with getting more information? Saves you the hassle.
Lykor crossed his arms, too weary to argue. He supposed the city seemed safe enough. For now.
An oasis built for lounging, for those who could afford the indulgences of peace. Where butterflies fluttered and birds hummed from flower to flower.
A world removed from war.
