7
Nasya spun around, as graceful as a dancer, and guided me back to the sand. From there we took a wooded path that opened to a grassy patch.
Uncomfortable silence stretched as we walked down the path until it ended at a round stone slab over the grass. A stone armchair with a high back sat in the center, looking ancient and rough, with symbols carved on its base.
She gestured to the armchair. “Please, my Lord.”
No backing out now. Holding my breath, I sat on the chair. I braced myself for something—a prickling, a jolt, an energy rush—but nothing happened.
I glanced at Nasya. “What now?”
She strutted until she was standing behind the chair. “Now, you relax.”
Easy to say. Relax on a strange island with a woman that had a Soul Oath with Imha, while seated on a prickly chair.
I turned
