”Never mind about her tits,” Lor grumbled, eyes shifting away. He did not like the way she looked at him, even if she leaned closer. Maybe Abbian was right and he spent too much time with men and not enough with the polite company of women. Maybe it was that she said she knew some men like it rough, and then looked at him in a way that made Lor want to wrap his hands around a couple of necks. Possibly his own, even.
”I’d like him dead.” He told her candidly, holding her a little closer. Hadn’t thought of the little bastard in a century. Easy to forget when they had so many troubles in their faces. ”Who is going to train him not to be a conniving, cowardly dog?” And how could any of them trust some girl from no where to keep him in check? Lor was sure they needed gutting. Wanted Ilithian to ask him to do it so badly he nearly buried his face in her lap and begged for the order.
”I guess we all have plenty of that.” Time. Plenty of time for it all to go wrong again. She was so fucking reasonable. Lorivar sniffed the air, probably turning his brain to mush again with her damned queen craft. All the little fledglings on the Isle were beating the boyos to death with it. It was part of why kept his visits short. Lor didn’t have time for that shit. Not with Ilithian wearing permanent holes in his will and changing his damn mind so often he never knew which way he’d stood to begin with.
”Don’t say that!” He rasped, standing swiftly. Pulling at the hands on his wrist, the fingers in his hair. Fleeing all the petting he usually enjoyed. All because Ilithian could so easily dismiss her death. As if she were expendable. ”You promised I got to die first.” He reminded her. A million years ago when neither of them had finished growing and were each egging the other on to jump from high places. No wings until the very last second. Each trying to out last the other.
”A district?” Fucking Hell. Snapping his wings shut, Lor lifted them high behind his head. ”And blood bonds. Ilithian please. Don’t give her the means to tie unsuspecting men to her like that.” The land around the lake was a mess. Lorivar wouldn’t fight he on that. He was also right by that crazy, Dhemlan hating bastard. The blind one. Peitar. Lor was sure he could use that to his advantage when things went south.
”Fine, fine, fine.” He grumbled at her logic, as if he had any say in what she did anyway. Pulling at his bad ear, Lor turned to track Ilithian’s movements. Sweater pooling almost at her knees. Where did she even get a thing so damn big? Excitement rippling from her. Shalador! Of course she wanted to go. She had people there, if he remembered right.
”Because it’s in Shalador, and you run a territory here, in Askavi.” He reminded her. He watched her dig in her wardrobe, eyes burning holes through her sweater. ”When I left.” He repeated, knowing what she was about. She wanted to stuff his mouth with food so he couldn’t use it to talk. Lor would let her, and then ply her so many threads she ended up in knots. Huffing, Lor turned his back on her, wings wide like curtains, arms folded over his chest in annoyance.
It was her cursing, he told himself, that made him peek. One wing dipping low so he could glance over it and make sure she was alright. Drink in the long curve of her spine as it dipped between her wings. No assassins or hurts in sight. He even stopped, very politely, before reaching the shadow between her thighs, hidden by her ass. Rubbing his lips, Lor turned back to staring at the wall. It was just relief pulling his stomach tight.
”Who is Briar?” Lor asked, teeth bared at the wall. Eremiar was that mute thing she’d dragged up from the Keep’s dungeon, he knew. Someone with sense had sent for him when she’d pulled that stunt. Lor hadn’t been able to talk her out of that one either. Especially with the old man attached to one of her apprentices. Briar he didn’t think he’d met yet.
”Why would Peitar being going somewhere with Lillian?” Lor asked, turning in his surprise. Lillian, the little half Dhemlan waif. Lor could remember still the way she had quivered on her knees, facing execution before Ilithian had yanked down the back of her dress and exposed the... wings there. Lor was very sure that had been the moment he’d fallen hopelessly in awe. Not with Lillian, the girl rarely managed to inspire much at all and never awe, but with Ilithian. Hell cat that she was, determined to drive him crazy.
”If you’re going, I’m going. It’s my right as First Escort.” He reminded her. And he would fight for it if he had to. Looking her over, Lor wished for the sweater back. Her knees didn’t look half so good in those red pants. They did match his Jewel though, which made him grin. ”Miss me so much you’re dying your clothes to match, I see.”