Page 135 of Kissed By the Gods
I tripped over your slow smile,
landed in your eyes, and found home.
Nyrica’s first poem for Thalric, aged 17
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
LEINA
I’m limpingwhen I make my way to my chamber, long past sundown.
I hate him. IhateSkywarden Ryot of Stormriven.
I’ve waited for him to get back for months, somehow both terrified and thrilled for him to return, to explore this unnamed, forbidden thing that exists between us.
But all he’s been thinking about is whipping my ass in the sparring ring, which he just accomplished for the second day in a row.
I grab a jar of aldersigh and sink into a boneless puddle on the floor of my new room, stripping out of my chainmail and tunic to smear the foul-smelling ointment over each bruise and sore muscle. I didn’t even make it to the bathing chamber, so the sand from the arena makes a gritty, uncomfortable mess when I rub the ointment directly over it. I hiss out a breath as I get to the open wounds and the blisters on my palms.
The sharp knock on the door, followed by murmured jostling, has me scowling. If Ryot is here … I throw a robe over myself and swing the door open, prepared to tell him to go to any one of the seven hells.
But it’s not Ryot.
Faelon, Thalric, Caius, Nyrica, Kiernan, and Leif all stand outside my door.
“Leina!” Faelon exclaims, slapping a hand on my shoulder in the traditional, manly greeting everyone seems to prefer here. The one that saysyou belong to us. “We thought the Elder was never going to release you back into the wild.”
I somehow manage a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Still, I think only Nyrica and Thalric notice. Maybe just Thalric, actually. Faelon, as usual, is oblivious.
He leans further into my chamber, winking conspiratorially. “We’ve come to take you for a good fucking!” he announces proudly. “This is the first time you’ve been released from training before the middle of the night, and it’s finally time to celebrate!”
“I’m sorry. What?”
Nyrica rolls his eyes. “It’s our rotation at the Crimson Feather,” he answers for Faelon. “Faelon here wanted to make sure you didn’t miss another opportunity to … relax.”
Understanding dawns. I haven’t been able to go all winter. Training with the Elder has meant long, exhausting hours.
Of course, I’m exhausted now, too, but when I think back to that flash of guilt on Ryot’s face, to the way he beat me down in the sparring ring …. A night at a brothel might be what I need.
I smile, and it must be predatory, because even the oblivious Faelon shrinks back.
“I would love to go with you to the brothel,” I answer.
“Pleasure house,” Faelon mutters back. He hates it when I call it a brothel. But he’s watching me a bit more cautiously, now.
“Right!” I bare my teeth in a smile. “Pleasure house. Let me go get changed.” I start to close the door on their bemused faces, then swing it back open. “What exactly does one wear to a pleasure house?”
Faelon opens his mouth and closes it, at a loss for words, for once. All the guys look at each other, nonplussed.
It’s Thalric who answers. “We’ll go dressed like this.”
They’re wearing their normal day-to-day wear, tunics and leather pants. Just … cleaner.
But black tunic and leather pants isn’t really the man-eating vibe I’m going for tonight. “What do the women at the Crimson Feather normally wear?”
