The breeze blowing across the snow-capped mountains in the distance is relentless. It chills my cheeks and seeps through my gloves. Every time the sun peeks out from behind the rolling clouds I sigh, but my delight is always short-lived. My fingers tremble as I pull the hood of my cloak forward, searching for even the tiniest hint of warmth. It's a futile attempt and really the least of my worries.
Ever since we passed the border and entered Sibyl, everyone has been on high alert. The jokes Ulric cracked earlier in the morning have stopped. His blue eyes focus on the surrounding valley. The lack of trees and flat land make it easy to spot anything out of place. I suppose it's the reason I catch his gaze drifting to Ashavee so often. The moment we stepped out of Pliris, she shifted into a sleek, black-spotted jaguar. With light steps, she prowls the path ahead of us with her nose close to the ground. Terro and Greer trade off taking the lead and watching the back of our small caravan. They keep the pummels of their swords exposed, prepared to unsheathe them in a split second. Their vigilance is admirable, but it is nothing compared to Kyron's.
The intensity he emits can almost make up for the lack of sunshine. He appears relaxed, rolling a ball of flame through his ungloved fingers, but it is just a guise. His eyes are in continuous motion, searching the landscape for anything out of place, and the casual play of fire in his hands is a weapon. Even Samson's pace with Nortus is to keep him at my side. He also takes signals from Ashavee. Every time her ears perk up, he follows her line of sight, holding his breath until the lean muscles in her legs relax. I've never felt more protected.
While the others were disguising their trepidations with humor or keeping a watchful eye, I've remained lost in thoughts about the Cruel King's Stone. The story has fascinated me since I first learned about it. Why would people risk their lives for something they had no proof existed? Were they all as desperate as us? Or did they feel the same connection to the map that I do? I'd like to believe that they were driven by greed, and a stronger force is drawing me to the legend. It's an encouraging thought. If the Statera had a hand in making me feel that way, maybe there is hope that everything will work out.
But if it doesn't...
"You've been quiet."
My thoughts disperse, vanishing into nothingness, and I snap my head in Kyron's direction. "I've just been thinking... worrying."
"It's going to work out, Raelle. We're on the right path."
Kyron has never been the one to give into unproven possibilities. They are too unpredictable and out of his control. He sees everything as a big picture. This action leads to this consequence with this outcome. I'm surprised to hear him so optimistic.
"I hope you're right," I say with a half-hearted smile.
He tilts his chin up, drawing my attention to the sky-high bell tower and the cluster of buildings ahead. I'm very familiar with the Sybil capital. I spent months inside those walls training to kill my enemy, searching to break a bond, and praying that the Statera would numb my heartache. It's a ridiculous notion now, but I was consumed by anger and hurt. My time at the Sibyl temple was just one stop in my journey back to Kyron.
An arm slides around my waist, and I scream as I'm hoisted out of my saddle. "Sit," Kyron commands, situating me in front of him. "Ulric, take her horse."
Our friend doesn't hesitate to grab Nortus' reigns.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Taking your mind off things for a minute." He spurs Samson into a gallop until we are several yards in front of the others.
"But we shouldn't—"
"We're close enough to the capital that no one will attack us. They take a chance of getting caught and if they harm us on Sibyl land, the Sibyls will have no choice but to enter this war. It's a win-win."
I push my hood down from my head and glance back at him, cocking an eyebrow.
His lips pull into the boyish, lopsided grin that makes me want to melt. It's frustrating and endearing all at the same time. His smile makes it impossible to stay mad at him, and it also does things to my body that no simple tilt of a mouth should be able to do.
Placing his hand in the center of my chest, he pushes me back until my head is on his shoulder. "Relax. Our lives are on the verge of chaos. Enjoy this moment with me. Please."
It's the polite way he asks that stops me from protesting any more. I rest my body into his and allow my eyes to drift shut.
Kyron's lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine as he says, "That a good girl."
His fingers stroke the exposed skin from the base of my neck to the top of the valley between my breasts. His warm touch chases away the chill I've battled for hours. It feels good, too good. A steady throb beats between my legs, and I ache to rub my thighs together. I'm at his mercy with one simple touch.
"Are you forgetting everything that was bothering you, princess?" He ends his question with a kiss on the sensitive column just below my ear.
"Yes, but what about you? Don't you need help taking you mind off things?"
He moves his hips forward, pressing his hard cock to my backside. "My mind is right where I want it to be."
Statera help me. His need has him straining against his pants. I want to release him, feel his hard, silky cock in my palm. I'd stoke him until his eyes grow heavy with desire and his hips thrust him through my hold. Touching with my hand wouldn't be enough. I'd need him in my mouth. The tug of his fingers in my hair, the way the cords of his neck strain against his skin, the sound of my name leaving his mouth as he gives in to his release. I'm obsessed with making him fall apart.
I reach back to touch him, but he stops me. He takes my hand and places the horse's reins in my palm. "I need you to take care of this while I take care of you."
"Kyron."
"Shh. Let me feel how wet you are for me," he says, pulling loose the lace of my breeches. His fingertips inch between the leather and my heated skin. He caresses me, working his way down with teasing touches. When he reaches my center, he rubs that sensitive part of me that causes his name to slip from my lips. The ache grows stronger, unable to subside without more.
"Please," I say with a whimper.
"Please what?"
I have no shame, no desire to hide my need. "Give me more."
He slides two fingers down my slick seam and dips his fingers inside. "Fuck. You're so warm."
I lift my hips from the saddle, eager for him to go deeper and faster. "You make me like this. All you have to do is say the word, and I'd spread my legs for you."
He chuckles, and the rich rumble sends goosebumps rising over every inch of my flesh. His hand moves quicker, pumping into me harder. Each thrust draws me back against him as he rocks his pelvis forward. "Even if I wanted to fuck you right here?" he asks with a desire-filled rasp.
I look down at his hand, watch it move under my pants. My mind flashes a picture of him on top of me. The muscles of his back flexing as he thrust inside of me, melting his body to mine. He is beautiful, and mine, and I want to be filled by more than just his fingers.
"Yes, you can take me however you want me." I gasp as my body responds to his skilled movements, squeezing him tight.
"I'd take you on the ground, place you on your hands and knees. You would scream my name as my cock plunged into you over and over again. I bet it wouldn't take much for you to lose yourself to the sensation."
I grab his wrist, holding him in place as I ride his hand. The rapid movement of his thumb on my clit, and his fingers curling inside me are the perfect combination. Glorious pressure builds low in my stomach as he strokes the place only he can reach.
Kyron holds me tight with his chin on my shoulder, watching my hips roll against his hand. "I know it feels good, but I don't want everyone hearing those sweet sounds that are just for me."
I bite down on my bottom lip, cutting through the skin. The taste of cooper washes over my tongue, and I swallow it down along with a whimper.
"Fuck," he hisses. "Keep moving like that and I'll come with you."
"Do it. Please."
He grips my breast and sucks on the curve where my shoulder and neck meet. He moans and his body trembles behind me. I lose all self-control, grinding on his hand as wave after wave of extraordinary bliss wash over me. Every particle of my being is swept away in an undercurrent of ecstasy. I spin in its warm depths until the need for air forces me to the surface. The seconds tick by as I catch my breath, and Kyron's fingers slow until they rest inside of me. Samson's steady pace rocks us in a slow rhythm. I have no will to move. In fact, I might be content to die on this horse with my parah.
Kyron slips his hand out of my pants, taking the warmth of his touch with him. I look up at him as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks my release from them one by one.
Meeting my gaze, one side of his mouth ticks up. "I couldn't help myself."
Why does he have to look at me like that and say things that starts the throbbing in my core again? We are in no position to take what we really need. Fingers and grinding won't be enough the next time. As much as I hate doing it, I have no choice but to shove my desire down.
"I'm a mess," I say, sitting up and tying my pants.
"You're not the only one, princess."
I purse my lips, holding back a smile. It's a good feeling knowing I can make him lose control without so much as touching his skin. I sort of feel bad about his... predicament. The sticky wet mess in his pants can't be comfortable. I tuck that thought away, promising to return to it when I can make it up to him.
"The good news is that we passed the time," he says.
I lift my head and am greeted by the towering archway leading into Sibyl's capital. Patches of melting snow cover the rustic road and vast plains line either side. Elk and bison graze on the tall brown grass. I watch the peaceful animals, admiring how they stay close together. Even they know there is strength in numbers.
Kyron and I wait for the others to reach us before moving on to the city. Every building is constructed from sun-bleached stone. No matter how big or small, each home looks the same—slopped roofs covered in brown clay tiles and tall pillars along the front. Everything is symmetrical and colorless. It is so drab, yet there is so much beauty found in the throngs of people.
Sibyl is a hodgepodge of the different kingdoms. The Esspress flutter around in colorful billowing pants and matching barely-there shirts. They show their midriffs and chests, with gold and jewels hanging from their ears and necks and wrapped around their arms. Saras prefer more sensible clothing. Many wear aprons with pockets to carry the instruments they use to heal. In many ways, they remind me of the people in Lucent, opting for colors that easily hide dirt and blood gathered from a hard day's work. The Allaji are asked to stay in their human forms while in the city, making it easy for others to converse with them. Just like it was on the island, they wear little clothing mixed with a hit of their animal and don't shy away from public displays of affection. But it is the blue robes with matching head coverings that are in the majority. Every Sibyl dresses the same, no matter their station in life. Even their leader, the Divine Sibyl, doesn't stray from the tradition. None of them have names or are defined by a gender. They aren't bound by the roles found in other societies. They just are, and they dedicate their existence to being the embodiment of the Statera.
Everyone is welcome in this sacred land to connect to the Statera and learn the history of the five kingdoms. It's the reason we are here. If anyone has an accurate history of Pliris, it will be the Sibyls. Along with keeping records about every kingdom, some have the rare ability to share prophetic words from the Statera. We could get some insight about the outcome of this war if the Statera wishes us to know.
Keeping to less crowded roads, we weave our way through the city. Our chances of being noticed are slim, but we aren't taking any more chances than we need must. It isn't the Sibyls who worry us. Anyone from the five kingdoms can join their order, forgoing their loyalty to their home kingdom and sovereign. So, an Allaji who becomes a Sibyl would never get involved with Zek's affairs. They're called to remain neutral in situation such as ours. The same can't be said for the hundreds of shifters who flock here for other reasons.
We stop at a public washroom just outside the temple gates to give Ashavee a moment to return to her human form and put on her clothes. Kyron and I are also quick to dismount Samson and take the opportunity to clean up.
When I emerge from the washroom refreshed, I make my way to Nortus. Ulric hands me the reins and wiggles his red eyebrows saying, "It looks like you and Ky had a nice ride?"
"Don't make me tell Ashavee how you were drooling over her all morning," I say, mounting my horse.
"I wasn't... she was walking..." Ulric claps his mouth shut, fills his lungs and starts again. "I was just keeping an eye on her."
I purse my lips and shake my head. "Is that the story you're going with? What about all the times you stare at her when she's not in danger?"
"Elle has a point, man. The way you watch Ashavee is almost obscene. I feel like I'm intruding on your alone time," Terro adds.
Greer steers her horse over to us. "Are you talking about how Ulric undresses Ashavee with his eyes even when she's a cat?"
Terro and I nod.
"What the fuck!" Ulric throws his hands in the air. "Have you met the woman? She's insufferable, always talking about artifacts and knowing shit. How can I even have a conversation with her when she is too smart to talk with?"
Terro leans forward in his saddle, moving his face into Ulric's line of sight. "But you think she's sexy."
"I suppose she's a nice-looking lady. But did you hear me when I said she is too smart?"
"All I hear is that you think she is sexy, smart, and has one hell of a swaying tail," Greer says, and Terro and I fall into a fit of laughter.
Kyron takes the steps down from the washroom two at a time and unties Samson from a post. "Are you talking about how Ulric's new hobby is Jaguar watching?"
We laugh harder, and Ulric turns his horse away from us. "I'm half-way thinking it's time to find some new friends."
"Come on, Ulric. I'm sure she'll come around. You've been telling us for years what a fine specimen of man you are," Kyron says with a smirk.
"You're a massive whale dong... Your Majesty."
My hand flies to my mouth, stifling a giggle. Kyron has been called many things—hell, I've added my own unsavory names to the list—but I don't think they were ever delivered with such respect.
Ashavee walks out of the building, her fingers working her thick hair into a braid. Her eyes dart between us as she moves closer. "You allow him to talk to you like that?" she asks Kyron.
"Normally, I'd ask for his head brought to me on a serving platter, but in this case, he may be right. I'm a massive whale dong."
"Don't joke with someone who comes from a kingdom where her king would have no problem asking for heads," I say before urging Ashavee to jump onto Nortus with me.
"Proof that he's a dong too. But I'm not inclined to call him a whale dong. I feel bad for the whale," Ulric says, clearly over our teasing.
Ashavee climbs into the saddle behind me and says from over my shoulder, "I've always liked to think of him as balls—fragile and easy to crush."
Ulric smiles at that, and the pure adoration he has for my friend returns. He can try to fight it all he wants, but he has a crush on Ashavee. And by the way she has stuck to his side since coming to Pliris, I'd say she feels a little of the same.
Kyron moves Samson to the head of our group and looks back at us. His eyes sparkle as his ebony hair flutters in the breeze. With the same hope he's held since starting this journey, he says, "Let's go figure out how to crush some balls."