His throat bobbed. Satisfied, I lowered my head, letting my hair shield the grin tugging at my lips. There was power in being desired, and even more in knowing the desire came from a king.
Claydon’s voice broke the moment. “Greaves, I’ve a few blades to show you in the morning. A blacksmith’s been tinkering with a new ore. I’d like your opinion on the edges.”
He rubbed Gayle’s shoulder before stepping away, leaving the room to dissolve into goodbyes and the promise of stolen moments yet to come.
I drifted past Kallias, the heat from his body brushing my arm as I veered toward Gayle.
“With Kallias–”
“Permission,” Kallias interrupted, dismissing his guard with a wave. His tone carried an easy authority that made me laugh. “Which I wholeheartedly give. Go, Greaves. I’ll manage just fine.”
“Kal, there was an assassination attempt,” the man groaned, his chair scraping as he stood.
“You come to my table armed?” Claydon’s voice was steeped in mock hurt. “Then insinuate I cannot protect my own guests!”
“Triple the guards,” Greaves sighed, defeated. “And only the morning.”
Gayle slipped her arm through mine, winking as she tugged me out of the room. “Success!” she whispered.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching Kallias watching me. His smoldering gaze and wicked smile promised things I could hardly name before the door clicked shut behind us.
“That was your plan?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Oh yes,” she said, nodding. “Greaves deserves a break. He’ll worry himself sick over the king, of course, but both men need their space.”
“Kallias could order him away.”
Gayle hesitated, then smirked knowingly. “And you know this how?”
“If he wanted to,” I corrected, cursing the mead that loosened my tongue.
“Peace, child.” She patted my hand with a chuckle. “He could, but he wouldn’t. Greaves has been by his side since boyhood. He would never dismiss him.”
Except when he desired stolen words. Or kisses.
“It’s been nearly two years since they’ve had a reprieve,” Gayle mused, leading me through the halls. “This will be good for both of them.”
“Kallias takes his duty seriously,” I agreed. “As does Greaves.”
Her sidelong glance spoke volumes, but she let the comment hang. Silence settled between us, broken only by her quiet humming as we walked. Paintings of vibrant flowers and sweeping mountain sunsets lined the corridor. I paused atone that depicted a cluster of goats nestled in the hills, their shaggy forms almost hidden in the vibrant brushstrokes. Another painting. Another goat.
Laughter bubbled up as realization struck. “They’re everywhere,” I said, pointing.
Gayle joined in my mirth. “Yes, he truly loves the Kuh’lir.”
We turned a corner into a familiar hall, and she opened the door to my chambers.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” I said. “Thank you for welcoming me into your kitchen.”
“You’re good for him.”
Her quiet words stopped me in my tracks. My heart lurched to my throat, and I fought to paste a smile on my face.
“Come,” she said, shutting the door before settling on a sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. “Sit.”
Sun above, what had I let slip? Did she know about our feet? Had Greaves told her anything? I shoved my fear deep inside, pushing it away as I sat.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I began, unsure of where this was heading.
