Page 24 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Lena

Standing on the porch of The Quiet Harpy, I cradle the hanging lantern within my palm. My thumb brushes along the complex curls of black iron that cages the rippling, orange flames, studying the sparkling strands of gold woven within.

Darkness and Light.

Outlined in a shimmering blue ward, the blaze writhes to a song only it can hear as it reels the hovering ward into a seductive dance. In the ward’s pursuit, they curl, twist, and twine. To and away. Again and again, as they attempt to mold itself to the other. Never stopping, never touching, the Stars-crossed lovers could be mistaken for Uriella and Azazel themselves, pining and desperate for one another, but destined never to be.

Paying homage to the gods in the design of a lantern.

I snort at the thought, only to smother it once I hear the creak of wooden steps. “What is it?” I ask, stilling my gaze on the ill-fated lovers.

Skin crackling with his nearness but hearing no response, I spin away from the peculiar magic, but all I see is black. A black leather vest and black tunic molded to the heavily muscled chest of the Fire immortal currently blocking the light of the two moons.

Darius is huge, abnormally so, compared to the beings of this land. I reluctantly drag my gaze from his chest and follow up… up… up, passing his thickly corded neck to the handsome face even the gods would bow down to. Meeting his square-cut jaw and full lips, it takes a large amount of willpower not to scratch my nails through the scruff along his jaw, imagining the burn it would leave between my thighs. Tilting my head back even more, I pass his straight nose to the burning, glacial blue eyes that bore intently into my amethyst ones. The burn of his gaze sears every place it touches, as well as every place I wish he would touch. The intensity of his gaze alone would intimidate a lesser female, but I hold my stance and try not to squirm in a fruitless effort to lessen the need currently glistening the lips below my waist.

It's not just his eyes that are intense; it's all of him. The sharp mind behind those blue orbs. His severe silence. His tall, muscular build. I’m convinced that if I were to spend enough time with him, I would develop a crick in my neck. His fierce protectiveness makes me squeeze my thighs together in remembrance of his volcanic reaction to the thought of me being touched.

His power. My gods! His power and strength is an almost tangible entity in itself, thickening the air with his presence alone. It's savage and primal, crippling in its potency. So much so, I find it difficult to breathe with him near.

“It's Gods Light,” he says in that gravelly voice of his.

Of course it is.

Passing my gaze over the ward encapsulating the roiling flame, I use Kace’s words and ask, “I thought it was rare to have Gifts from the lesser gods?”

Lesser gods. Ha! I stifle a snort. They aren’t lesser gods. If anything, they’re more powerful. More dangerous. Their powers just haven't manifested in many bloodlines. How the Seboians classify and worship the gods makes my stomach churn at their naivety.

He says nothing as his intense stare bores into mine. If I hadn't spent the last several hours with him, I would think he didn’t hear me. But I see the wheels churning in those brilliant eyes and know he rarely speaks without thought.

Leaning my hip against the railing, I wait patiently for his response. It's not long before a slight crease appears between his brows.

“Common enough to have trinkets such as these, and access to Gifted healers.” His frown becomes more pronounced. “Have you not seen one before?”

Evading his question, I step off the porch and look to the others walking ahead of us, paired off and chatting as if they’re all long-lost friends. I smile at the sight of them laughing and teasing one another. Mixing, mingling, ingratiating themselves. Inwardly nodding to myself at the thought of one task complete, I peer down at my boots striding across the cobbled street.

When we entered the city, there weren't any visible buildings near the guard station. Along with that and in need of a filling meal, I didn't have the wherewithal to take stock of my surroundings, but now it's impossible not to take notice.

The cobbled street is four wagons wide. Grey, white, and cream-colored stones twinkle beneath the light of the two moons from the large, uncut gems embedded intermittently into the stone of the street. The streets are clean and well-tended, lit by Gods Light lanterns attached to tall, black iron poles. The shops lining the street are either darkened by the late hour or lit by flickering Gods Light, built with a blend of curving oak woods, white stone, and for the wealthier businesses, several uncut gems. You can see the presence of Nature magic in the flowers blooming near entryways and the greenery crawling up the sides of the buildings. It's magical, beautiful. Their wealth is present everywhere; I wonder if the other kingdoms are just as prosperous. Dropping my gaze, I study a blue sapphire beneath my boot.

It's larger than my fist and I'm just stomping across it as if it's nothing more than dirt.

I wonder how they are so blessed. A sense of foreboding fills me as I think of how these beings worship the gods and how everywhere I look I see the gods’ touch. Their wealth. The gems beneath my feet. The lanterns with their swirling black and gold. Even the people themselves are a likeness of the gods.

Tilting my head back, I squint at the blinding, white stone wall that encases the entire city. Built for protection, but all I see is a cage.

The gods’ hands are most prevalent there.

“Your city is quite beautiful,” I say, attempting to fill the silence.

“It is,” he replies, scanning his surroundings with a bland expression, as if he's grown accustomed to its beauty.

Lowering my head at a tilt, I draw his gaze to mine. “It truly is. I've seen many cities, and it's rare to find one maintained as well as yours. A nighttime stroll is much more pleasant when you're not dodging horseshit.”

He laughs, the sound deep and guttural. “That probably has more to do with the ban on traveling by horse.”

“Really?”

He nods, his voice darkening as he slides his thumbs into his belt loops. “Unless you're the Queen.”

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