The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(17)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Then his face was in mine, his lips a breath away, his eyes all I could see and they were burning with a different light, one that made me catch my breath as his hand went back between my legs and his finger thrust back into me.

“Lahnahsahna Circe lapoo meera kah liros anah,” he declared forcefully and I blinked.

“Uh… okay,” I whispered, thinking maybe agreement was the best way to go and he continued to stare in my eyes.

Then the fire died out of his eyes, he whispered back, “Okay,” his finger glided gently over my clit, my body jerked, lightly this time as his hand trailed up to my belly at the same time his eyes disappeared because his head moved so his tongue could glide across my throat.

Then without looking at me, he exited the bed.

I watched his na**d body move toward the flaps.

Okay. What was that all about?

He slapped open one of the flaps, again totally not heeding his nudity and he barked something through them. Then he moved away from them, not looking at me in the bed, and he prowled to the trunks at the corner.

The flaps went back and in came Teetru followed by Packa, both of them carrying big, earthenware jugs. I quickly reached down and pulled the sheet up to hide my nakedness (not that they hadn’t seen it, repeatedly) as Lahn moved away from the trunks and threw a new pair of hides on the ground. He yanked the jug out of Teetru’s hands and tipped it over his head, the water splashing all over the rugs and all over his new hides. He used his big hand to swipe the water around his body then he jerked the jug back to Teetru. She took it, he yanked the one out of Packa’s hands and did the same. Then, without toweling off, he hauled up his new hides, tied the laces tight at the h*ps and prowled out of the tent, his eyes not coming to me once.

I stared at the flaps of the tent.

Okay, maybe I was wrong. Language and a killer freaking culture gab were standing between us but outside of that last bit, I thought Lahn and me got a few things straight last night and, um… this morning. We’d shared words (kind of), he’d grinned at me (of course, this was after I’d drawn blood but still, he did it), his touch had changed, he held me while we slept, his arm tightened around me while he slept and he put a fair amount of effort into giving me three really freaking great orgasms.

I guess I thought wrong.

Teetru came to the bed, bending over it, tugging at the sheet, speaking quietly to me but the edge of excitement in her voice made my eyes move from the tent flaps to her.

And I saw she was excited. Her eyes were shining with it. She was happy. Something good was happening and it wasn’t just me getting up and getting dressed.

“Please,” I whispered, reaching out and taking her hand, “get me Diandra.”

She looked in my eyes. Then she nodded. Then she turned her head and said something to Jacanda who was dragging in the tub. Jacanda looked at me, looked at Teetru, nodded, left the tub where it was and dashed out of the tent.

I fell down to my back and stared at the top of the tent.

“Another day in paradise,” I whispered, my voice sounding defeated.

This was because it was and that was because I was.

I allowed myself to feel this for approximately two minutes. Then I pulled my shit together and hauled myself out of the bed to face whatever next was to come at me that day.

* * * * *

The marketplace was a short ways away from the encampment, through a small stand of weird, thin, green stalked trees that looked a bit like bamboo but weren’t.

And the marketplace, unlike the encampment, was a fixture. There were tents but there were also buildings, not sturdy by a long shot but buildings nonetheless.

And they had, I discovered, everything for sale there. Everything.

Diandra, her pretty dark-haired, dark-almond-eyed, twelve year old daughter, Sheena (who spoke enough English to make herself understood in a broken and charming way, mostly because she spoke it smiling a sweet smile and giggling after practically every word) and I caused quite a sensation when we arrived.

And this sensation, I figured, was not entirely due to my new kickass outfit (ice blue, halter bikini top that hooked to a golden chain around my neck and was also fastened with a chain around my back, ice blue skirt with shafts of gold and hints of white and silver, wide belt made of gold and silver disks, no bands at my biceps but so many gold and silver, skinny bangles on my wrists it took Gaal five minutes to push them up my hands and they covered me from wrists to mid-forearm and tinkled every time I moved my arms (which was, I noted for the first time in my life, a lot), gold earrings, again chandelier but dripping with rough, seed pearls and pearl pins affixed to the coils, twists and braids in my hair everywhere).

The queen had come calling.

With a chatty Diandra and a giggling, smiling, brokenly chatty Sheena, I wandered the marketplace looking over the wares. Earthenware jugs, bowls and vases of all shapes and sizes. Bolts of materials of everything from burlap to silk in every color you could imagine. Dried, cured meats. Hard, salami type sausages. Cheeses. Vats of yogurt. Dried fruits. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Nuts, both with shells and without. Sacks of various grains. Pottery. Enameled bowls. Knives and spoons (no forks, I noted, as I noted none were at Lahn’s table) made of silver or pewter and even wood. Trinkets, bangles, chains and hair bobs. Yarn of every color. Thread of every color. Looms both big and small. Rugs, again, both big and small. Casks of wine. Candles.

You name it, they had it. The place was huge, it was bustling and from the horses (with rickety, primitive wagons and without) and what looked like oxen (not that I’d ever seen oxen, I was guessing) tied to basic wooden fences outside the marketplace, it wasn’t just there for whenever the Daxshee set up at the dais but it stood there always and people came from other places to purchase what they needed.

I was wandering and taking it all in but I was also in my head. This was because I was wondering about Diandra. She seemed kind. She seemed friendly. She seemed to want to be my friend, to want to help.

And I needed help.

Like, a lot of it.

I just didn’t know where to start.

“The whispers are fading, Dahksahna Circe,” she told me, lifting a bolt of silver fabric shot with crimson and violet.

I stopped fingering a heavy cream silk and looked at her. “Sorry?”

She turned to me and dropped her hand. “The whispers are fading.” Her grin turned wicked and knowing. “The warrior king and his warrior queen battled on last night, I hear.” She leaned in and raised her brows as I sucked in breath. “I also heard… he won.”