“I can try.” Griffin’s gray eyes glitter from beneath his dark lashes as he turns to me, the mix of humor and determination in them making my breath catch. Man. Warlord. Husband. King. I love every part of him.
“I’m going to stitch that onto a banner for you,” I tell him. “I’ll turn it into your official motto.”
The corners of his mouth kick up, and his expression brightens with surprise. “You can sew?”
“Nope.” I grin. “But I can try.”
* * *
Lycheron.Good Gods.He’s still as potent as a creature can get. Half horse. Half man. And the man half is…
I’d swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.
…something to look at.
Frankly, the horse half isn’t bad, either. Sleek. Black. Muscled. Huge. Everything—huge.
We’re midway between Sinta City and Tarva City, meeting in the grasslands before they gradually turn into the hills and forests of the north. Beta Team flanks us with the army. Griffin’s parents remain with Carver, hanging back with the troops, but Bellanca stays close to us, as does Ianthe. The Ipotane make our horses nervous, so we dismount and approach on foot. After squeezing my hand, Griffin steps a little in front of us, knowing that Lycheron will only negotiate with him.
Next to me, Ianthe stares in utter fascination at the Ipotane Alpha. What worries me, though, is how Lycheron is staring back. His focus is only partially on Griffin. His equine ears twitch, and his massive man-shoulders keep angling our way, as if he can’t help leaning toward Ianthe. He sniffed me on the Ice Plains, like he was drawing in my essence and my magic, like he was tasting and learning them. Now he’s sniffing my sister—repeatedly—and his tawny eyes turn hooded. Muscles quiver down his long horse back, and Ianthe’s lips part on a softly shuddered breath. Her color rises.
The Ipotane Alpha watches her, his eyes focused and fierce, and something in the pit of my stomach starts to feel all wrong. Not because Lycheron is a magical creature. He’s wholly male, and even I have a hard time not staring at his chiseled chest, sculpted arms, and decadently handsome face. It’s because Ifeelthe tension snapping between them—both of them—and the awful churning inside me springs from thinking I know exactly what the Ipotane will demand in return for his continued help.
Lycheron reluctantly shifts his attention to Griffin again. He tosses his head, sending ebony hair rippling down his back. “Our agreement was to guard your insignificant border for no longer than six months. If you don’t need us here any longer, we’ll return to the Ice Plains.”
“I still want you to guard my border for the time remaining,” Griffin says. “But as I’ve just explained, my border has moved a week’s ride to the east.”
Lycheron scoffs. “A week for you. For me, three days at the most.”
My jaw nearly comes unhinged.The Ipotane can cross all of Tarva in just three days?
“Three days, then,” Griffin says. “It’s still my border. The deal should stand.”
“It shouldn’t. And it doesn’t. You specified the border between Sinta and Tarva. Here I am. If this border no longer exists, I have no reason to guard it. And I certainly have no cause or reason to patrol the border with Fisa.”
“You’re reneging on our agreement,” Griffin says, seething.
Lycheron stamps a hoof hard against the ground. “Our deal involved Sinta and Tarva. By your own decree, those two realms no longer exist. It’s just Thalyria, no border, free movement, and my herd is trooping up and down the middle of it.”
“I still have a border that needs guarding,” Griffin grates out.
“Then you should have worded the deal differently.” Lycheron’s tone is cool, flat, and final. I can tell he’s not done, though. He’s too interested in Ianthe for that.
Griffin’s nostrils flare on a calming breath. He needs more than one. “Then I offer you a new challenge.”
Lycheron’s honey-brown eyes gleam with genuine interest, but then his expression hardens again, and he visibly squashes the temptation. “No. I’ve seen how the Gods favor you. It’s vexing, to say the least.”
Bollocks. I thought the Ipotane couldn’t resist a challenge. Apparently they can—when they think they won’t win.
“We won’t call a God,” Griffin says quickly. “Especially not here.”
Lycheron shakes his head. “They’re always watching you two.”
Always? Ack! I hope not.
“Offer me something else,” Lycheron says, looking straight at Ianthe.
No. No. No!
