Page 47 of Warrior's Reign
“Certainly,Adejahna.”
“And if you get any more offers, send them to me asap.” She paused, then said pointedly. “My liegeman.”
He cut the comm, but then she’d known he would.
* * *
Reign went to Vykhan’s suite.
He wasn’t in his office or any of the training yards, but she needed to run this by him before she went any further. She’d considered, then discarded, talking to Ibukay. She couldn’t get in the habit of skipping over the chain of command and going straight to Ibu about everything just because they were friends. Not if she wanted to build a true place for herself here. And she didn’t want to one day put the princess in an awkward position because Reign accidentally overstepped some invisible boundary.
Reign stopped outside Vykhan’s quarters and requested entry. She’d spent the brisk walk calming her heart rate and forcing her mind on business so she could face him without embarrassing herself by either shouting, attacking, or throwing herself at him. She assumed he would have a public room of some sort used for informal meetings with his warriors and other officials.
When he answered the door himself, she wondered if she was wrong.
He was dressed as casually as she had ever seen him, in a short robe open to the waist and loose pants of the same shade and silky material that were not quite Yna Ipaluk robes but close. The sleeves were long and wide, a display of unusual modesty that covered his marks. A narrow sash wound intricately around his waist, and the blades on either side kept the ensemble from looking too informal. The blades appeared deceptively decorative.
His hair was loose around his shoulders, a dark fall of slightly rough silk. He stared down at her, eyes brightening to a shade of feral she’d only ever seen last night. And then the look was gone.
Reign blinked, mentally smacking herself, and fell back on the crutch of manners to hide her thoughts. “Sir. Excuse the interruption. I had an issue to discuss regarding the clause in my contract that allows for freelancing.”
Vykhan regarded her, but didn’t ask why she hadn’t just commed him. She could have, but it was likely he might have ignored her since she couldn’t code it as urgent—there were strict guidelines on what constituted urgent she knew better than to abuse.
“I am glad to see you. We must discuss the remedy for my behavior last night.” He retreated, giving permission to enter.
Reign entered his territory, wondering if this was a mistake. Just inside the threshold of the suite she stopped and stood at attention, looking at some point in the distance. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, body clenching. “I’m not here about that.”
“Nonetheless. Do you have something to report? At ease, Obe’shan.” The tendril of dryness under his calm tone irked.
Reign relaxed a fraction, enough to glance around his quarters. “So this is what ten pay grades above a private looks like,” she said, using the Earth Standard word.
“AnAdejahna,” he corrected. He’d moved further into the room, towards one of the wall panels. “I have lived here for some time. Your quarters will become your own eventually.”
It seemed like tacit permission to snoop, so she prowled as he fiddled in the corner. She tried not to look at him, the fall of dark hair draped over his shoulders, the peek of his azure chest.
Reign slapped herself again. This wasVickie.Her First, and a Silent, superior pain in the ass. Fuck me against a wall kiss notwithstanding.
The room was surprisingly lush. She would have expected minimalism, shades of never-ending gray. And though the colors were a mix of warm browns and cool grays, colorful living plants perfumed the air. Tall, leafy trees and walls of herbs and succulents. A digital panel on one wall was set to a soothing garden landscape. She blinked. She recognized—
“That’s my training circle.” Reign turned, giving him a hard look. “My academy training circle.”
He glanced at the digital panel. “Is it? The scenes cycle through images from Yna Ipaluk. I did not realize.”
There was nothing in his placid expression to indicate he was lying—but she felt the worm of mistruth. And yes, as she watched, the scene changed to another image from the academy, a lush public garden for eating and group meditation.
Vykhan finally turned away from the wall, carrying a tray set with a small pot and two cups. He approached the center of his room and stepped down two stairs to the inset living area, and lowered the tray onto a rectangular table.
He waited, and Reign dug more manners out from the deep, dark part of her soul. She stepped into the living area and sat with him. For some reason he wanted to offer traditional hospitality, so she suppressed her unease and impatience.
But Vykhan poured hot amber tea into the small cups with the gravity of someone serving an honored guest—and it was just her. He did not pour quickly, the timing measured and the level of liquid in the cups exact. After a moment he offered her one, his fingers brushing against her hand. His touch was cool and dry, an unexpected caress that shimmered on the back of her hand as she accepted the cup, posture perfect, and waited a long moment—long enough for a silent prayer—before raising the cup to her lips and taking a long sip. She set it down.
Vykhan raised a brow. “You recall.”
Reign didn’t quite grimace. “AdekhanLomara drilled us relentlessly.”
Lomara was from one of the old families in Naidekai city. It had not always been a stew of mixed species and cultures, being the capital city. Families like Lomara’s and Vykhan’s were old, however, and kept to many of the province’s original traditions.
And this was one of the simpler rituals, reserved for informal conversations with guests of note, which again, she was not. Was it an apology for last night? How a host presented the tea could signify many things. In this case it was likely permission to take her time enjoying the brew while formulating thoughts, but also a request for an explanation for her visit.
