Page 163 of Winds of Ruin
The gilded wainscotting of the Helos throne room greeted us. Dreadful place.
Being within those walls, beneath the giant golden sun emblem painted on the domed ceiling, reminded me of blood. Every gaudy fixture brought back gray-scale memories of acts I’d committed under Caym’s control. So many of my darkest moments lived here.
Elsedora took off her fur-lined coat, and a charm floated it to a hook by the entryway.
“I’ve spent more time in this throne room for the past twenty years than in the Sahlms’,” she admitted. “It’s a favorite place of mine.”
That made one of us.
She flitted over to the throne and dramatically sat upon it, crossing her legs demurely.
The corners of my mouth crept up. “Why is it your favorite?” I’d humor her. Even if I hated every aspect of the room.
“Because this Corridor is my home; my roots are planted in the North—the winds call me back. Getting to have a part in reshaping it, meeting with the lords here, and establishing something new. I enjoyed it.”
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm. I dislike this room and that throne immensely. You can have it. You look better on it anyway.”
Her gaze narrowed, and she pursed her lips before leaping up to pull open all the curtains on the far wall. “How could you hate a view like this?” she asked.
The room was bathed in a beige light that softened the glow of the gold chandelier and made it feel warm despite the chilly airand shiny surfaces. The Hussa Mountains looked more beautiful as her backdrop.
“The view from the gardens is even better,” I mused. “But this one isn’t so bad either.”
“Never spent much time down there,” she hummed out as she stared at me. As I stood in front of the throne, I assessed her too.
Outlined in sunbeams cast from the snow-topped mountains outside the window, she looked encased in a glowing halo of light.
“Find the light in your darkest days.”My mother had repeated the saying to me so many times. I’d ignored her, never worried I’d need to remember it.
Yet there Elsedora was—someone to guide me away from the grim moments this place held.
“Sit down,” she demanded. I hesitated. “Isaid, sit, pet.”
I collapsed onto the ugly, oversized piece of furniture. When she approached with the pillow my crown sat on, there was a glint in her eye that spelled trouble... the good kind. “What are you doing?”
“Making you like your throne. Because I do not want it. Though, I’d happily worship a King worthy of sitting on it.”
Her gaze never left mine as she lowered the onyx-embellished crown onto my head and discarded the pillow.
Once done, she parted my knees and knelt down before me between my legs.
Now that I’d had a taste of her, my desire spiked at once, and my length hardened against the seam of my leathers at the mere thought of her wanting me.
If I weren’t careful, I might not hold it together. Spilling into my pants would be dreadfully unfortunate, since the way she peered up at me wantonly through light lashes promised something spectacular.
My breath and heart rate quickened.
“You name all your weapons, don’t you?” she asked as she worked the buttons of my leathers open and freed me from them.
She lacked any shyness. I’d once found her forward nature off-putting.
I’d been the biggest fool.
She gripped me and stroked from base to tip. Clutching the throne’s gilded arms, I groaned out, “Yes.”
“And what is this blade’s name?” She moved her hand up my shaft.
“I don’t…” Heat crept to my cheeks, and she huffed a laugh.
