A Storm of Flames and Deceit

20. As We March On

Eris

Over the past week, I've been trying to figure out how I'm meant to get out of bed when I wake with her in my arms, and I'm still coming up blank. Well- get out of our cot, that is.

I'll be the first to admit I'm not a huge fan of camping. I certainly liked the luxuries that came with baths and beds and... indoors. But hey, it's not too bad to sleep in confined quarters when I'm sharing them with her.

"Nephele," I murmur into her hair, stroking the strike of her spine. "You need to wake up."

"Shhhhh," she fumbles to clamp a groggy hand over my lips, not bothering to open her eyes. I chuckle under my breath, wrapping my fingers around her wrist, and moving her hand to settle a kiss on the base of her palm.

"We sort of have an army to lead back to the capitol," I remind her casually. "But I'll just let them know you need five more minutes."

She groans grumpily, propping her chin up on my chest to glare at me. "It's a bit early for sarcasm- even for you," she tilts her head into her hands, still staring up at me grouchily.

I brush a stray curl out of her face, her hair wild with yesterday's mileage. "I can't help it- same as how you can't help being adorable first thing in the morning," I reply, cradling her face in my fingers.

"Flattery wins you this round, Hot Stuff," she grumbles, slipping off my chest. She pads across the room, letting me enjoy the view as she bends over into our small luggage, digging for today's garment before she unbuttons her loaned shirt. I clear my throat, peeling my eyes off her bare back as I rake my fingers through my unruly hair. She wouldn't mind me watching, but I think I might lose my mind if I watch any more.

I busy myself into changing my own clothes, switching out yesterday's brown trousers for a trimmer fit, made of tanned leathers that padded around the sculpt of my legs. The top was of the same fabric, same structure, sleeveless and leaving my arms bare as it hugged my torso. I fastened my sword to my hip.

Yesterday was about look regal for our speech with our men, but today, we were meant to look like warriors. I always had a bit of difficulty with that if I'm being honest. Sure, I could hold my own with a blade, and I was by no means without flame, but I've always been a politician. My greatest power has always been my brain, deceptive and cunning.

Neph dressed as the warrior she was beneath the queen that Prynthian knew and cherished, dawning structured grey leggings and a matching top. Its sleeves were full, sheer panels running up the underside of her arm same as they did on her fleece lined pants. Her boots were black and silver studded, matching the silver daggers that strug up her thighs with amethyst hilts.

She turns towards me when she finishes, only to find that I'm fully dressed, staring at her in some sort of trance as she attempts to pin her hair up. She looks me up and down then, raising a single brow, her gaze focused solely on my legs now. "I approve," she taunts, stepping closer as she finally secures her hair, her gaze flicking over the slide and sculpt of my bare arms.

I roll my eyes trying not to smile as she slides her hands up my bare arms, appreciating the sway of the muscle corded beneath, her fingers a feathering touch. "And I'm a fan of the knives," I reach down, tightening the black holsters on her thigh, chuckling at her surprised yelp at the sinch.

She rolls her eyes as I slid my fingers up her body, twirling her framing curls around my finger. "Ready to go?" she raises a brow at me, squirming a bit beneath my touch. It's always fun when I can shake her.

"Mm," I murmur, pressing a slow kiss to her lips, unable to help myself. "Five more minutes," I whisper onto her lips, the kiss deepening as she slips her arms around my shoulder.