47. Killian
KILLIAN
The temple looked exactly as he remembered.
Paintings of the five gods, full of color and emotion, lined the high golden ceilings.
Art his wife would have appreciated. If she were with him, she would have gazed above and looked at nothing else.
She would have noticed the tiny details like the strokes and swirls from the painter’s brush or how the artist delicately traced the faces so perfectly.
Layalara would have made a comment about how the man with curly hair stares at the bare woman with such intensity, such love that the way his hand reached out to touch her and the way her hand reached out for him told an infinite story without words.
Do they ever touch? In their story?
He rubbed his chest absentmindedly. Do the lovers get a happy ending?
He supposed they do, stuck in time forever yearning for one another.
Staring, waiting…desperate for that one touch.
Killian inhaled sharply, taking one last glance at the masterpiece above him, before he walked further into the foyer.
Crystal-blue water fell from the stone tiger statue, a welcomed calm before a stressful meeting, while the smells of damp earth filled his nostrils and masked the strong smells of curry lingering from the kitchens.
As Killian met Kohen’s piercing gray stare, he squared his shoulders.
“Mr. Whitlock.” Kohen approached, his white robes following behind him and draping across the floor.
His daughter, Izara, and his son, Oliver, were a step behind him, clad in the same white robes.
Izara smiled with grace, her silver hair swaying against her hips as her emerald eyes locked with Riggs.
Killian’s gaze swept over Oliver, noticing he grew a few inches since the last time they met.
Killian kneeled; Riggs quickly followed, then Esemeray. Staring at the red sandstone floor, Killian said, “Kohen, pleased to see you.”
“Stand.” Kohen’s deep voice carried through the open space.
Killian stood, offering a quick nod and a smile as he met his stare. “Sorry for the late arrival; your shipment…” Killian motioned to the crate in the center of the room, the guards having carried it in. “As promised.”
And thank gods they did. His back would have given out—medicated or not.
Kohen beamed. “Better late than never.” His gaze swept over Esemeray, his features weary. Killian winced internally. They all looked like hell after the desert storm.
“Who’s the girl?”
Before Killian had a chance to speak, Riggs cleared his throat and said, “A cousin of ours.”
Killian stiffened at the lie, watching Esemeray reach out a hand in greeting. “Sophie, pleasure to meet you.”
Emmy was too close to Esemeray, and with the communication going on with Dagon, Killian was certain Kohen was aware of the missing princess. I’m surprised how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.
“Sophie.” Kohen chuckled, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of her name.
Izara’s eyes twinkled as her gaze swept over Riggs. Unable to wait a moment longer, she threw her arms around him. “Riggs!” she cried, her voice soft and sensual. “Oh, how I missed you.”
Slowly, Riggs wrapped his arms around her. “Izara. It’s been years.”
Killian could have sworn a flicker of hurt spread across Esemeray’s face.
I hope Riggs fills her in on Izara. I can’t handle any more tears.
Breathing deeply, he reached for the key in his pocket and unlocked the crate.
“This is half; my father will bring the second load in a few months.” He lifted the lid, displaying the claymores.
Kohen had not taken his eyes off Esemeray, rubbing his thick white beard. “I believe it’s all there.” He waved his hand dismissively at the weapons. “Let’s discuss business over dinner.”
Killian’s muscles tensed. “We would love to.” Never once had they been invited to eat.
With a snap of Kohen’s fingers, a dozen women, covered head-to-toe in pale-blue robes, appeared.
Kohen hollered, “Please take my guests to their rooms to freshen up.” He locked eyes with Killian, a challenge within his gaze.
“You are all in need of a bath and a change of clothes.” He smiled brightly.
“My furniture is too expensive to be ruined.”
Two women reached for Killian’s arms, their bright, turquoise eyes shining through their sheer veils.
He didn’t object as they wrapped their arms around his and led him away. He glanced back at Riggs, who was still speaking with Izara, as Oliver reached for Esemeray’s hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. His stomach sank at the sight.
Killian’s lips pursed. This isn’t good.
Staring ahead, and taking note of the monstrous plants in massive planters lining the hall all the way to the brown-painted doors, Killian said, trying to make conversation. “Hello, ladies.” But the women did not speak, they did not even look at him. Killian let out a quick exhale through his nose.
One of them opened the door, while the other brushed her hand down Killian’s forearm, gesturing to help remove his weapons.
“That’s okay. I will hold on to my sword.” Flashing a smile, he gripped the hilt firmly to keep her from taking it. Not understanding, she tried to grab it again. Killian cleared his throat, patting the top of her hand. “No.”
“This is where you will stay,” the woman spoke at the door, her accent thick.
The room was small and cozy, decorated with exquisite statues of snakes and tapestries of vibrant colors blending together like a sunset after a storm.
Nothing seemed out of place besides the drapes nailed shut over the windows.
He scratched his chin, fingers catching in his beard.
Neutral and calm and unlike the rest of the temple, the bed was draped in a crème comforter. Killian preferred plain colors. He nodded in approval. It was almost as if this room was designed just for him.
He spoke in their tongue, “I speak Rhabari.”
The woman glanced behind her shoulder and raised her brows. “I have never met a man from Aldmoor who can speak my tongue.” She placed her hands above her heart. “I am Teele”
Killian offered a smile, bowing his head slightly. “Killian.”
“Strong name for a strong man,” she said, her gaze sweeping over him. “What happened to your neck?”
He touched Reginah’s bite and winced. “A skirmish in the desert. I’m fine.”
“I’ll bring you some salve that should heal it. On the bright side, it doesn’t look infected.”
Thanks to Riggs and his homemade ointment.
She smiled, motioning toward the other woman. “This is Samyara. She is shy. And deaf.”
Makes sense.
“Sadly, sign language was never something I picked up.” Killian offered her a wave.
She smiled with tight lips but did not return the gesture.
Strange.
Teele pointed toward the swinging doors that were carefully painted with the color of the sky at dawn.
“The bathing chamber is straight through those doors. If there is anything you need, Killian…” She pointed to a silver bell resting on a small table.
“Ring for us. We will hear your call.” She chuckled softly, “Well, I will hear your call.” A small nod toward the bed.
“Your robe will be ready for you after you are clean.”
Teele tilted her head. “Do you need us to bathe you?”
Killian choked, heat creeping along his neck. “No! No. I can manage. Thank you.”
“We will be right outside the doors.” They both bowed, disappearing back through the door.
The last woman who had seen and touched his body was Layalara. And he intended to keep it that way till his last dying breath.