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I'm sticking to him like glue.
The tall, thin man escorts us up the stairs. "I will issue my apologies on behalf of the prince himself. He is visiting his wife's family in Glistentide and will not return for many weeks. He will be thrilled for you to make use of his home and servants, however. Will you be staying for some time?"
Kassam shakes his head. "We ride on once Seth's army is ready."
"Then my prince will be very sad indeed to have missed you, Lord of the Wild. They will be singing songs of your return for generations to come." The smile that creases his face is genuine. "We are so honored you are here."
Indeed, everyone seems to be awed at the sight of Kassam. There are guards posted at each of the doors to the palace, and they gape openly at Kassam's figure. I mean, the guy is splendid to look at, from his hooves to the horns in his thick hair, to the vines that curl at his waist and trail up one arm, to the delectable brown skin that makes me want to lick him all over—
I rub my crystals, frowning. When was the last time we had sex? This morning? Yeah, he's about due for a hedonism recharge, and so am I. My stomach growls, reminding me that I need to eat, too.
The interior of the palace is cool and delightful. The floors are a beautiful painted tile, and even though the interior is dark, it's spacious and open. Rich, fluttery wall-hangings covered in beads clink as we walk past, stirring them, and there are leafy plants potted amidst the delicate furniture, made from shaped metal with a woven mat for a seat. There are statues lining the walls, and Kassam pauses in front of them, noting the bowls of oils and incense before each one. "You pray to all the gods here?"
"All of them," the tall man says happily. "My prince's family is quite traditional." He gestures down the line of statues, and sure enough, there's one with a pair of curling ram horns. It's not quite the same horns that he's wearing right now, but Kassam looks pleased that his altar has fresh flowers on it. As we walk, I notice that one of the statues is missing a head, and the marble form seems to have been covered by a black cloth. The man gestures at it, saying, "The god Seth insisted upon Riekki's removal. We have not yet had our statue of him returned to us yet, but the sculptors are hard at work already."
Kassam grunts, then glances down another hall where servants scurry past. "I see oracles here. They serve the prince?"
Oracles? I try to peer down the hall, but I didn't pay attention. Everyone here wears flapping robes of various colors—except for Kassam, of course, who is touchably almost-naked. To me, they all look the same, but maybe they feel different to Kassam. "What's an oracle?" I whisper, using this moment as an excuse to lean in close to him…and maybe press my mouth against his skin, just a little.
He pulls me in under his arm, and the warmth of him is like a blanket. His scent envelops me, and I have a hard time concentrating as he explains, "Oracles serve the gods. They pray on behalf of the people and are keepers of lore. Many choose to serve one god alone, but there are some that serve all, choosing to be of service to mortal man instead of seeking the love of one particular god. If they are not dedicated, they will not receive prophecies."
Right. Because the gods stick their hands into things here and go to war with each other. "Are you going to give out any prophecies while we're here?"
"Shall I just whisper naughty things in their ears, then?" he teases, looking down at me. "As I do you?"
My breath stutters at those laughing silver eyes. Heat floods through my body and I place my hand on one firm pectoral, brushing my thumb over his nipple. "Save your naughty things for me and me alone."
Kassam returns my heated look with one of his own.
Servants race down the halls ahead of us as the tall man—the vizier to Prince Rahim—gives us an aggravatingly leisurely tour of the palace. These are the family's personal shrines to the gods. These are the tapestries brought here as a wedding gift from Rahim's mother's people. These are the finely made chairs that show off the metalwork that Chandrilhar is famous for. This is the library, full of ancient books (and oracles hard at work reading and taking notes).
I try not to seem impatient, but I'm exhausted and grimy and starving. I just want to sleep and eat, in either order.
We're finally shown to the suite of apartments that will be ours. It's three rooms, and the entirety of them is as big as my apartment back in Chicago. There's a sitting area full of small chairs, cushions, and what looks like some sort of stringed musical instrument in one corner. The next room is the bedroom, comprised of a low-slung metal-postered bed and an extremely wide, flat mattress covered in dozens of pillows. The final room looks like bathing implements, with a beaten metal tub, a cloudy, ornate mirror on the wall, and a table with various cosmetics on it.
