He lowered his arms and caught the tail-end of my stare. I shifted my gaze to the flames, but not before I spotted his raised eyebrow, hinting at his amusement.
“I will prepare you as best I can,” he said.
“Hmm?” I forced myself back to the conversation, trying to avoid thoughts of Sainte’s body.
Not the definition of his chest.
Not the lines of his abs.
I definitely didn’t need to be thinking about the trail of hair that ran down his stomach, disappearing into his trousers.
“…why Togamar sent us.”
My lips pressed tight, and I shook my head as if that would be enough to stifle the heat blooming low in my belly.
Look at his face, El.
His face!
He frowned, confusion creasing his brow. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced a bright smile, hoping it didn’t betray my thoughts.
“What worries you?”
A strangled sound escaped as my grin faltered. “Togamar told us to come here for you, not me.”
“… because I feel Nothar will show me how to best prepare you.”
Oh, that’s what he had said.
“Right,” I nodded, turning my gaze back to the hearth.
A knock saved me from my thoughts straying once again. We rose as Falon entered, blue and white robes draped over his arms. His gray eyes flicked over me to my Valahant, lips lifting in a smile.
“Please change. You will be far more comfortable, then we can discuss the ritual.”
I scrunched my nose in distaste. Hadn’t I endured enough divine encounters already?
“She won’t be participating,” Sainte said as he secured his robe from Falon.
The priest dipped his chin, curious. “You seek Nothar, do you not, Princess? Your Valahant does not share your lineage. You may be one, but the blood calls to–”
Sainte cut him off. “I will suffer the Ritual of Blade and Blood.”
Gods, that sounded terrifying.
Without waiting for Falon’s response, he took the second robe, handing it over to me. His jaw clenched.
“He won’t answer,” Falon said, puzzled, as if unsure.
“Nothar wishes to speak with him,” I tried, glancing between the two.
“And he told you this?” he asked, turning his questioning eyes to me.
I straightened, pulling myself up to my full height, still a head shorter than both of them, but it helped empower me, as if I had a right to use this tone with him. “Priest Falon, I am weary. Do not question my actions, or those of my Valahant. We will dress and expect the ritual to be ready as soon as possible.” I lifted my chin, holding his mildly amused gaze, watching his smile grow.
“You have courage, Princess.”
Something twinkled in his eye, and I couldn’t place if it was admiration or irritation.
