All That's Left Behind: An Epic Fantasy Series (Empire of Ash 1) by Miri C. Golden

Author:Miri C. Golden [Golden, Miri C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-23T20:00:00+00:00

35

A Storm of Sorts

SOME OF TROA’S inward groan leaked past her lips, but Lurra must’ve taken the noise for a sound of pleasure, for she swayed her hips as she shed her leggings in a minute but seductive roll.

Of all the bad, rotten luck.

“Hello, Lurra,” Troa said without enthusiasm, straightening in the chair. “What are you doing here?” Until this point, she’d avoided direct rebuffs, clinging to the hope the doe would pick up on her lack of interest. If she could deliver Vosh’s insulting message to Juama without getting kicked out of the stand, she could probably turn Lurra away without risking reprisals. Still, she loathed rejecting nice people.

“I thought you might need help.” Lurra hung her discarded clothes on a hook. “And I’m free from my duties till sunset.”

“Uh, I think I have it under control.” Troa swallowed a fistful of gravel. If push came to shove, she’d just have to tell Lurra the truth: she was attracted to males, not females, and she didn’t make a practice of shriking the people she knew, let alone strangers. “I’m actually about done here,” she said with a fake smile that leaned more toward a grimace.

Undeterred, the doe went to the ramp and entered the pool. “Gavnar won’t return for you for a while,” Lurra said. “I heard him tell the Holy of Holies so just before I came. You wouldn’t want to walk all the way back to the temple.” She skimmed the water’s surface with languid strokes of her fingers. “I’m sure you’re weary after your journeying. Why don’t you let me massage your shoulders? They’re so nice. And I’ve been told I have a stimulating touch.”

Troa made to stand, but the whine of hinges stayed her rising. Oh, thank the Makers, Gavnar returned early.

As footsteps smacked over the hallway ramp with hollow thuds, Lurra came to a stop in the water, her smile waning.

Troa’s mouth plopped open as curls, not forked antlers, emerged from the dark hallway. Vosh strode into the room like he owned the place, a wad of suede clothes tucked under his arm. He shot her a wicked grin, heading straight for her at a slinking prowl.

“Well, hello, my little firefly.” Vosh tossed his curls and chucked the clothes he carried onto the floor. “I do believe you’re thrilled to see me.”

“Rot and Ruin,” Troa said in Sideerian. “Rescue me. Please.”

“On it.” He threw her a wink and rolled his filthy trousers above his knees, saying, “Hello, Lurra.”

The doe lifted a hand when he wriggled his fingers, but her head cocked to the side as he planted himself at Troa’s shoulder, his naked legs dangling in the pool.

Troa twisted toward him. “How did you know?”

“A lifetime of experience,” he said with a chuckle. She rolled her eyes while he went on. “I told you, I pay my debts. I’d, uh, come in there with you, but...”

While Vosh patted his stomach, Lurra waded across the pool to paw through the pails.

He pitched his voice low.

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