She nodded. All of this was temporary. Rey’s job in Istré. Silla’s job as queen.
His rough palm slid up her spine, and Rey pulled her to him. Closing her eyes, Silla drew in deep pulls of his scent; counted his heartbeats.
“The Kalasgardians will stay as your queensguard,” Rey said into her hair. “Keep them by your side no matter what.”
Silla nodded as tears burned her eyes. “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.” His lips found hers, so soft and lush, but he drew back suddenly. “I have something for you.” Rey rolled off the bed, and as he crossed the room, she stared unabashedly. He turned and caught her looking, his eyes darkening as he sauntered back to her. Silla was so distracted, she scarcely noticed what he’d handed her.
“Keep this on you at all times.” He paused. “And be careful who you trust here.”
Trying to blink the lust from her gaze, she stared at the item. An ivory hilt protruded from a supple leather sheath attached to a strap that looked far too small to fit her hips. “I don’t think—”
“Like this,” said Rey, his voice rough and deep. He took the sheath from her and slid the leather strap over her foot before dragging it upward.
“A thigh sheath,” she breathed, gasping as his fingertips brushed the sensitive place behind her knee. When he reached mid-thigh, Rey tightened the strap into place. Then he sat back on his haunches to examine his work. A smile curved his lips. “Perfect,” he murmured, eyes grazing down to her toes and back up again. “Show me,” he said huskily, “how you’ll use it.”
Silla’s hand slid along her stomach, then down her thigh, as she watched the black of his eyes expand. Her fingertips reached the ivory hilt, then wrapped around it. The blade made a softshickas she pulled it free.
“Good,” said Rey, taking the blade from her hand and tossing it to the floor. His eyes were black pools as he covered her body with his own.
“Promise me,” he muttered, pressing kisses down her throat. “Promise me you’ll wear it.”
“I promise,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll write.”
Immediately, Silla felt like a fool. The man was heading into danger—he had far more serious things to worry about thanwriting letters.Besides, with Istré burned to the ground, how would that even work?
But Rey didn’t so much as pause in his ministrations. “Every day.”
Silla blinked in surprise. “You will?”
Rey drew back so that he could look her in the eye. “I’ll bring falcons with me. Will send one daily.” His unyielding gaze dared her to question him.
A tentative smile crept across Silla’s face. She was relieved to have this discussion behind her. She arched like a contented cat. “You know, Galtung, your ex-lover is a real kunta.”
Rey blinked, then rolled onto his side, chuckling. Gods, she loved his laughs, and prided herself that they came more frequently now. “I think you’re being generous,” he said.
Silla snickered, then gasped. “Kraki! When we played the drinking game with him in Kiv, he mentioned her.” She searched her memory, trying to recall. “I asked you about her and you responded—”
“The spawn of Myrkur,” finished Rey. “I stand by what I said.”
Silla shook her head incredulously.
“You do know that Kaeja cheated.”
Her gaze snapped to Rey. “What?”
He reached out. Smoothed a thumb across her lower lip. “She’s a Harefoot, Silla. Did you not wonder how she was able to move so quickly?”
A “Harefoot,” as Silla recalled, was the type of Galdra who could generate great bursts of speed. And as she thought back on their battle, she recalled several instances when Kaeja had moved impossibly fast.
“Her aim was to humiliate you,” Rey continued with pride, “and in that, she failed.”
Silla lifted a hand and frowned at it. If Kaeja had inhuman speed, how in the gods’ ashes had Silla been able to maneuver past her? “She called me athief.”
Rey snorted. Fingertips slid beneath her chin, tilting it toward him. “You cannot steal something that already belongs to you.”
And with that, his lips slid against hers, and every thought in Silla’s head evaporated.
