Page 59 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“Aren’t you going to take your shoes off, Therat?” she asked, the last leg wrap almost unbound.
Her rough voice sent a shiver across his brain. How could only his name send the man into such disarray? He tore his gaze away from those slender, naked legs peeking out from the skirt and grumbled in reply.
“Well, I’m not waiting.” Mireithren gathered the length of her skirt and tied it at her waist with a hidden string. The breath caught in Therat’s throat.
Gods, what did I ever do to deserve this torture?
Mireithren sat at the edge of the nearest hot spring and slid her feet in. An involuntary moan escaped her lips as she did, the relaxation instant. She looked back at Therat, a sparkling smile painted on her face.
The raven-haired siren sat in the fading sun, aglow as the shadows of night crept in. She looked like one of the Goddesses themselves, worthy of eternal worship.
Therat pulled his shoes off and shoved up the cuffs of his pants. He sat opposite Mireithren, unable to trust himself, all thought overridden by the hot desire thrumming through everymuscle. Aching feet eased into the water. The heat of the springs helped distract Therat. His gaze stayed low, watching bubbles form. The two sat in silence until the shadows grew long. Mireithren gazed at the sky with a peaceful look on her face.
The eastern horizon grew ever darker, shades of deep purples and blues swirling with the fading light of day. The silver moon would not come tonight. A moonless night. A chance for fate to twist under the Dark Goddess’s hand.
Therat tried to reason with himself as his faculties slowly returned, desires leached away by the fiery waters. Attraction was a natural thing, no shame in such desires even if no one could reciprocate them back. But whyher?Why had no one before stirred so much as a missed heartbeat, yet she made every one of his senses go wild? Somehow, it would be easier to find anyone else in Mireithren’s place. He didn’t want to love her, hold her, or taste every inch of her.
But he would die if he didn’t.
“The sun will set soon. We should find a room for the night.”
Therat looked up from the water to see Mireithren looking at him, her gaze settled on the scar across his chest peeking through the tunic she gave him. He hated how naked she made him feel.
“Seems unlike you to shy away from the night,” he said with a groan, body unwilling to leave the warmth of the hot springs. He stood and turned away from Mireithren, trying to avoid seeing more of her mesmerizing body. The gentle curves of her naked legs lingered in his mind.
“True, but hunting you required sacrificing sleep.”
“Your blade at my throat woke me up early. If I promise to let you sleep, will you promise to keep sharp daggers away?”
“I’d be a fool to make such a promise,” she giggled.
Mireithren’s eruption of giggles pulled Therat’s gaze back. She sat on the ground, the lengths of her skirt fallen to the sideof each leg. If he didn’t know any better, Therat would swear she wore a skirt with high slits for this very purpose. The sheen of water drying on her skin looked like a fine web of crystals in the dimming sunlight. Therat’s eyes worked from her ankle up to the deep creases of her upper inner thigh. His gaze lingered.
The two retraced theirsteps back into the main district now devoid of life, stores shuttered for the day. The familiar dread and sense of foreboding from the dead land where Mireithren found him returned. The two hurried along until the warm lights of the inn they passed earlier in the day loomed large. The tall wooden building with arched windows stood around a tree with yellow-gold bark. Glowing orbs of amber light lined the limbs in place of leaves. Though the golden giant was but a memory of its former glory, the beauty awed Therat. They had no such trees in Av Madhira. He lingered outside, watching as the stars lit up the sky and the orbs looked like a hundred tiny moons high in the sky.
The inside of the inn held more life than Therat expected. Dozens of patrons sat at a long bar set against the back wall, almost every table filled with people drinking and eating. The conversations were hushed, as everything was in Cídhen’s Rest. As the door creaked open, a short, obese man with light brown skin and a beard flecked with silver approached.
“Hurry, hurry, come in now. Let the darkness crawl away from ye!” A gap-toothed smile spread across his puffy face.
Mireithren smiled back. “You are most kind. The shadows cannot tarry long under your blessed House of amber and gold!Hénarán, oestír.”
“Ah! A High Lady,” the stocky innkeeper said, bowing low as he recognized the formal greeting of the Named Houses. “My humble apologies, my lady…?”
“Lady Mireithren, of House Isht’iri. We are most welcomed,oestír.”Mireithren removed the black half-gloves, revealing hands laden with blue suns and flying doves. She extended one to the innkeeper, who in turn placed a gentle kiss on her outstretched fingers.“I only seek a room for the night, you do not need to trouble yourself on my account, I assure you.”
Therat smiled.She used my name.It filled him with an odd sense of relief, knowing she liked the name he gave to this mysterious woman. The innkeeper bowed and rushed away. He reappeared a minute later with a key in hand.
“No food first, or drink? It is early yet, the kitchen will be open for a while longer. It may not be up to the standards of Av Madhira, but we try! Or perhaps my lady would like a bath drawn for her? And a room for your guard, surely?” A wave of disappointment flowed over Therat at the mention of a separate room.
“One room, no food or baths, please. Wine would be lovely, however. From the Hénar Valleys, if you have any.”
The innkeeper nodded and took them to their room up three flights of creaky stairs to the top floor. Each room stood ready for one of the Named Houses, the doors carved with intricate symbols from their family crests.
“This one, I think, my lady will find most pleasing,” the innkeeper said as he shuffled over to a door. A flaming sun inscribed with two doves, their heads and breasts bent together in the form of a heart, decorated the wooden door. The innkeeper unlocked it and gave the key to Mireithren. “It doesn’tget much use as the Daughters of Myrniar rarely visit now. Do let me know if you need anything at all, my lady. Asheef will be up with your wine shortly.” He bowed his head and waddled back down the stairs, huffing as he went.
The silence weighed heavily over Therat as the innkeeper retreated. Mireithren reached out and took his hand, pulling him into the room with her. Therat tried in vain to push aside thoughts of her hands trailing over his chest. His mind begged to resist the siren, but his heart gave up without a fight.
Grander than the rest of the inn would suggest, warm red-stained wood interspersed with arched windows lined the walls. A headless statue of Myrniar stood in a recess opposite the door, seams of gold running through the white stone. Floating orbs filled with amber light illuminated a large bed in the center of the room. A small alcove with a window seat encased in glass looked out over the lake feeding the oasis.
