“Interesting,” I murmured.
“She’s one of the only ones who dares,” she added, sparking my interest.
“What do you mean?”
Syris pressed her lips together, her cheeks going a little pink. “I shouldn’t have said that. This is why I don’t drink wine. It turns me into nothing more than a gossip.”
“And don’t we love to see it,” Ethrisha exclaimed, throwing herself down into the seat across the table from us, Brune taking a place next to her. “What are we gossiping about?”
They were both breathing hard, and Brune was smiling.
“TheKarath,” I supplied when Syris wouldn’t. “And his lover.”
“Which one?”
I laughed.
Ethrisha looked over her shoulder. “Ah. That one.”
“How many does he have?” I asked.
“Enough for an unclaimedKarath, I suppose,” Ethrisha said.Then she grinned, wicked, her eyes twinkling. “And not nearly enough for someone so beautiful.”
Brune coughed into his fist.
“Have you ever…?” I asked, fighting a smile.
“Me?” Ethrisha asked, eyes widening comically. “On Muron, no. I wouldn’t know what to do with aKarath. Especially Alaryk.” She leaned across the table, and I leaned over to meet her, like she would tell me a secret I desperately wanted to know.
“Tell me,” I mock-whispered.
“His father was Hartan, you know. His mother was Karag.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. I’d gathered that the Hartans were a neighboring people in the east, on the borders of Grym. So, naturally, it would make sense that bloodlines would mix, wouldn’t it? Just like humans and Dakkari. It was inevitable.
“Hartan males pierce themselves,” she told me with a smirk. My gaze flashed to her ears. She touched one. “Like these. But…” She looked over at Brune, placing her fingers on his chest, trailing them down until his face grew hotter and hotter. “Down…here.”
Just before Ethrisha’s touch landed on his pelvic bone, she snatched her hand back, laughing. Poor Brune looked like he was torn between throwing her over his shoulder or expiring on the spot.
But her meaning wasn’t lost on me. “They pierce their…”
She nodded, the jewels in her ears flashing in the light, twinkling almost as brightly as her mirth-filled eyes.
Brune’s wince was loud as my jaw hung. “With gems?” I gasped out.
Ethrisha, and even Syris, giggled. “No! With metal.”
Brune groaned.
“Butwhy?” I asked, unable to keep my gaze from drifting back to Alaryk. Rivenna was nearly in his lap, his hand spanning across her hip lazily.
It might’ve been the wine, but I was…intrigued.
“Warrior sons of Harta get them when they come of age,”Syris said, her voice positively prim, like we weren’t talking about theKarath’s cock piercing. “It’s custom.”
“Surely he had a choice if his mother was Karag,” Brune chimed in.
“Oh, he did,” Ethrisha said, laughing. “And he chose the piercing. I respect it.”
