12
Ryell sat motionless on Atissa’s bed as she wrapped her arms around him. Her breasts pressed against his bare back, and her lips traveled across his skin, waking up a faint feeling of desire and hunger for magic. “You seem worried,” she muttered the moment her tongue stopped drawing lines on his body. “I don’t like it when you worry.”
Ryell put his hands on hers, searching for the right words or an apology, but his mind could focus neither on the woman behind him nor the pleasures she used to distract him. “It’s nothing.”
His thoughts were still bound to Cahala. Archmage Yoreus had mentioned that high mages had their own interest in finding the whereabouts of the Devanshari queen, and promised to keep Ryell informed. But what then? The question always returned. He still had no plan,
