‘Why do you even have these sigils?’ she asked, one evening, washing his hair with one hand while tracing the obsidian and gold lines of the sigils on his arms.
‘Because they hold the power of the sun. We could get you some matching ones.’
‘That’s a terrible idea. I’d be a human flashlight.’
‘But you’d be my light source.’
Minutes afterward, they gasped into each other as he turned her around and she sank onto his onyx-tipped cock as he pistoned into her.
Sheba’s bliss ratcheted as Idan came so hard inside her, thrusting with such force that waves of water splashed on the floor.
Still, it didn’t escape her notice that yet again he’d deflected her questions about his exact heritage and background.
Later, dried and dressed, they sat in front of the hearth, as he repaired the stitching on a set of chaps.
Sheba’s gaze traced the firelight dance across his focused features, a sense of domestic bliss settling in her chest.
What else keeps you busy during winter?
I like soapstone carving,he smiled, his eyes drifting to a series of milky rocks on his workspace, some half-carved, others still rough and raw.
I find the stones in the mountains and make figurines, but not that often, as I have no one to make the trinkets for.
‘Now you do.’
He arched a brow.
‘Shall I make you something?’ he rasped out loud.
She thought for a moment. ‘Make me a chess set,’ she requested.
His forehead wrinkled. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a board game of strategy to pass the hours until the skies clear. I’ll show you how to make one. I can put together a rough drawing.’
He handed her a piece of leather and a silver pencil.
She drew out a basic design as Idan reached for a block of raw stone and his awls.
His blade moved in a blur of motion, guided by a golden luminescence that bled from his fingertips.
The soapstone, softer than most, shifted, yielding to his will as if it were soft wax.
Within an hour, thirty-two figures stood on the hearthstone.
Sheba ran her fingers over the smooth, sculpted surfaces, her eyes expansive with wonder at his artistry, then laughed as she recognized their faces in the king and queen.
Cleared a space on his dinner table, she began to arrange the pieces, the familiar geometry of the game pulling memories from the depths of her mind.
‘My father taught me this on Dunia,’ she explained. ‘He was the Prime of the planet and liked to use it to relax. He said the board was the only place where a person could control their destiny.’
She moved a pawn, her fingers lingering on the smooth, exquisite figures.
Idan leaned in, his eyes glistening with the softness he denied himself for centuries.
‘Show me,salkia, how to play this chess game of yours.’
She instructed him on the maneuvers, the gambits, the sacrifices, and the patience of the endgame.
