Page 92 of As Above, So Below

It all feels incredibly intimate—the kindness of the gesture, the gentleness of his touch. It sets my heart to thundering. And as if he could hear it, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me, his lips twitch, the corners pulling upward into a smirk.

Oh good gods, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?

?????????????

Regret is the furthest thing from my mind as Ryc and I walk through the Brightmoss district sightseeing. Between having to hide from the Sovereign King and feeling guilty about pulling Eve from her duties or Cora, I haven’t explored much of Ollora despite wanting to.

Being here, with Ryc, is a strangely familiar thing.

I may not understand it, but good gods it’s a breath of fresh air to simplybe.

Our reflection in a large shop window catches my eye as we walkpast, my eyes on him through the stream of others meandering along the street. With him, there’s this illusion things can be simple.

No gods, no demons, no kings.

This morning has been the kind of morning I could get used to. The kind I’ve daydreamed about, and experiencing it has been nothing short of bliss.

Ryc slows to a stop before the bright blue door on the other side of the window. Turning to me, he gestures toward the door with a tilt of his head.

“Have you eaten?”

I shake my head. “No.”

What a strange question.

“You should eat.” He pulls the door open, and the scents of freshly ground coffee and pastries spill into the street.

Lifting my gaze, the wooden sign hanging overhead features tendrils of white moonflowers curling around beautiful script.Moonlit Morningsthe shop sign reads.

Peering through the window, the shop is packed. One or two tables remain open. There’s a long line, and the chatter, while not deafening, is loud. I would rather not place myself in the middle of a large crowd again. Not after the night at The Lioness.

“I appreciate the thought, but I can eat when I return to the temple.” I pull my eyes to him as he waits with the open door. “Moon witches aren’t paid a wage.”

He smiles. “I didn’t expect you to pay for yourself. I stole your morning, the least I can do is make sure you’re fed.”

I step back.

“I’m okay,” I offer with a weak smile and another shake of my head.

Ryc pauses, glancing into the shop before swinging his face back in my direction. “There’s a table across the street, in the small garden before the art gallery.”

He points.

Turning in the direction he gestures, a small garden with a few empty wrought iron and glass tables sits around the front of a small art gallery. The gallery itself appears closed, windows darkened.Confusion streaks through me. How did he know I didn’t want to go inside? Did I wear the thought on my face?

“Grab a seat there, and I’ll be back shortly.” Ryc dips inside the shop before I can argue, the door closing quietly behind him.

Heaving a sigh, I plant my hands on my hips.

With a healthy dose of reluctance, I cross the street and claim one of the seats at the table near the corner of the gallery. Keenly aware of how strange it must appear to be sitting outside of a closed art gallery, I adjust my hood, ensuring my face is well hidden.

Yet no one pays me any attention as they pass, and I lose myself in thought until silver catches my eye. Further down the street, a tall fae male in highly polished, intricate silver armor walks in my direction, a forest green hood bouncing beside him.

The fae holds a rather stoic expression, despite the energy of the person walking beside him.

“Cyran,” Ryc says as he slides into the seat beside me, and my eyes race to the mug of dark coffee and wrapped pastry he sets in front of me.

My face pinches with my confusion.