The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(69)

Shit.

“Circe,” Lahn warned, I focused on him and thought fast.

“Well, uh, when we were, you know… travelling and uh… sailing, um… most of the time I was sea sick and the rest of the time I was reading a book so I didn’t pay a lot of attention and the, uh… pirates weren’t very chatty.”

He stared down at me. Then he looked over my head.

Then he muttered, “I have never heard of this Seattle.”

“It’s tiny,” I told him and his eyes came back to me so I lifted a thumb and forefinger with about a half an inch of space, squinted through it to look in his eyes and emphasized, “Teeny tiny.” I dropped my hand. “It isn’t even like a kingdom, as such, more like a… city.”

He stared at me. Then he again looked over my head and murmured, “Bellebryn.”

Whatever.

I needed to move us on.

“My mother looked like me,” I told him in an effort to change the subject, his eyes came back to me so I kept going. “It’s weird, um… strange. My Pop was dark, uh… like you. He even had olive skin. But she was fair, very fair. Usually dark is a dominant trait but I didn’t get anything from Pop. I got my Mom’s hair, her eyes, her skin –”

He cut me off to ask, “Her eyes?”

I nodded and then suddenly he dipped his face closer to mine and his hand came to my jaw.

I braced at this quick movements and it was a good thing I did when he spoke.

“If you’re given the opportunity to look deep enough, you can see a person’s spirit in their eyes but usually, they are guarded, kept safe. Not you, my tigress, the night of your claiming, even in the moonlight, I could see your spirit shining from your eyes. You hold your spirit close to the surface for all to behold and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Oh.

My.

God.

Unfortunately, he kept talking. “So if she gave you your eyes, my golden doe, I can see your father mourning your mother long after her death. If you share your spirit with someone, their hold on you will never fade away.”

“Stop talking,” I whispered and felt the tears shimmering, ready to fall.

Lahn saw them and his hand glided up to my cheek, his thumb sliding below my eye, releasing the tear suspended there and capturing it against his skin.

“My tigress weeps,” he murmured.

My eyes slid away.

He again spoke. “You’ve had enough, my Circe, face forward and ride with your husband in silence. We make camp soon.”

Great, something else to look forward to.

I nodded and turned around. Lahn said something to Diandra and I looked her way to see her smiling at me, eyes alight, as they would be considering she was my Korwahk crazy romantic friend and I just stopped myself from rolling mine. Then her horse faded back into the warriors.

I looked forward and tried to focus on the landscape and my next trauma and anything else that entered my brain that was not the words my husband just said to me.

But this was difficult when his arm slanted across my chest again, fingers curling around my neck in order to hold me close, his thumb sliding up and down my throat in an idle caress I tried not to think was sweet (but it was).

So, the fact was, it wasn’t difficult.

It was impossible.

Chapter Seventeen

The Challenge

I was turned and lifted then moving cradled in Lahn’s arms.

I opened my eyes to see the Daxshee was up around us, torchlight glowing everywhere.

We’d stopped by a small, rushing creek where there was an abundance of spiked grass and bowing, wispy willow trees, their green so green against the backdrop of the stark cream stone, dirt and sand landscape that it was stunning.

It became clear to me in short order that the Dahksahna didn’t assist her slaves in setting up the cham. This became clear when hides and cushions were produced, a small jug of wine, another of water, a platter of food and Ghost, who had (my poor baby) been caged for nearly six days, was let loose so I could feed and watch over her while my girls worked and the young men erected our tent. And this was clear because Teetru made it clear with lots of shakes of her head and hands up pressing the air to tell me I was to take a load off while they worked their asses off.

This did not sit well with me but, again, I had no choice. And, truth be told, I was exhausted from the ride. And I was exhausted from my chats with Diandra and Lahn. And after I had three glasses of wine while I ate, watched with no small amount of fascination what could only be described as a practiced dance of the Daxshee rising (they didn’t mess around, they clearly did this often, it was swift and also weirdly graceful) and played with Ghost, it wasn’t a surprise that, when Ghost grew drowsy, I grew drowsy with her, tucked her to my front, settled in on the hides and cushions and fell asleep.

Now I was half-awake, in Lahn’s arms and heading to our cham which was glowing with the candlelight dancing within.

I turned my head, whispered, “Ghost,” and got a squeeze of Lahn’s arms as my eyes found my pet who was being scooped up by Gaal and carried away.

Well, I guessed that meant Ghost was sleeping elsewhere that night. Not unusual. Lahn had allowed me my cub but he had yet to allow her in our bed.

He bent low, me in his arms, entered the tent and I sleepily took it in.

It looked exactly the same and everything was set up, everything. It had to have been only a couple of hours and it was all done.