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But he also had motivation. Jordan had received word that Rolund’s young daughter was dead. Now, Sithistra had no heir. Once again, the prophecy reared its ugly head. If Rolund believed his land was cursed and that spilling Given’s blood could lift it, he was far more dangerous than any army.

“We should attack,” someone said. “Soak the Sithistran soil with blood so the humans remember their place.”

Murmurs of agreement warred with sounds of dismissal.

Lord Sergiu of Lar Bassa’s gruff voice cut through the noise. “What is your opinion, Your Grace?”

I lifted my head and found a dozen pairs of eyes on me. Varick stood at the opposite end of the table, his golden hair freshly trimmed. He’d kept the beard, though. I wanted to ask if he planned on shaving it, but I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes alone with him since our return.

The silence stretched. I straightened and gestured at the map. “Lord Varick has recalled troops from the Wastes.” I looked to Varick for confirmation. “Yes?”

He nodded. “They should arrive within the week, Your Grace. The snow is heavy on the roads at the moment, and their progress is slow.”

“That’s an excellent point.” I looked around the table. “The weather will only get colder. Nor Doruvians thrive in the frost. The humans do not. Once reinforcements arrive from the Wastes, we’ll post a large presence at the Rift. We need time to figure out what Rolund wants. Then we can make a decision.”

Artur of Lar Guna scowled. “You assume Rolund will actually tell us what he wants, Your Grace. That’s a dangerous position to take.”

“You heard the king,” Varick said, staring Lar Guna down like he’d love to know the color of the man’s intestines. “Until our reinforcements arrive, we’ll have no more talk of invasion. This Council will reconvene on the morrow. Now, everyone get out.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

“OUT!”

Chairs scraped against stone. Petru shot me a frown but said nothing as he bustled away in a swirl of black robes. Within seconds, Varick and I were the only two left in the room.

I raised a brow. “You pissed them off.”

He shrugged.

“I need their money to buy armor for your soldiers.”

“That’s what taxes are for.”

I rested my head on the back of my chair. “Yes, baby, but it’s a lot easier when they don’t try to hide their money. And if you make them angry, they’ll stuff their gold in a hole at one of their country estates.”

Varick’s eyes gleamed. Slowly, he came around the table, trailing a finger down the jagged coastline. I turned my head so I could watch his progress, and by the time he reached me, I was so hard I was pretty sure I couldn’t stand.

He cupped my jaw. “How’s your hand?”

“Perfectly fine for anything you have in mind.” I’d chop the fucking thing off if I had to. Anything for him to fuck me.

He said nothing, just stared down at me with lust burning in his eyes.

“You’re going to say something about holes and stuffing gold, aren’t you?” I asked. As I spoke the last word, he thrust his thumb into my mouth, forcing me to hold it open.

“No,” he murmured. “You’re the one with the filthy mouth.”

I huffed. It was too awkward to speak, so I licked around his thumb, dragging my tongue ring over the tip like I did when I sucked his cock.

His lips parted. He watched for a moment, his broad chest rising and falling. My dick tightened painfully, and I spread my legs to ease the discomfort.

Golden eyes flicked to mine. “I think you need to be fucked. Is that what you need?”

I nodded, drool sliding down my chin.

“Not here, though.” He thrust his thumb deep, gagging me for a second before pulling back. “I can’t do the things I have planned for you here. You’ll be far too loud.”

My eyes slid shut of their own accord as a dizzying wave of need swept me. Grinding on him in the tent had taken the edge off, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Not at all.