Page 127 of Aryn

“You like knowing I was young and reckless once. I used to sneak off with my friends, get completely wrecked, and find someone willing to let me fuck them senseless in the back of a tavern or against a wall in some dark alley.”

Cato groans softly, shifting in the saddle. “You’re evil.”

“Are you picturing it now?”

He shoots another glare over his shoulder. “Your crotch is against my ass, and you’re telling me stories about your slutty youth. Of course I’m picturing it.”

My hand slides lower on his stomach, fingers splaying possessively. “I’m only telling you because you asked. Although… I do enjoy the way you get jealous. It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute,” he grumbles, but his hand comes down to cover mine with a squeeze.

“You’re very cute,” I counter, kissing the side of his neck with a grin. “Especially when you’re pretending not to be turned on by the idea of me being a little wild.”

He huffs but presses back against me, the subtle roll of his hips telling me everything his stubborn words won’t. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to make you pull over so I can show you exactly how not cute I can be.”

“Promises, promises.” I nip his ear once more before straightening up. The wind whips through our hair as Nymir carries us forward, and I cast one last glance at the city that holds so many memories. “One day, I’ll take you there properly. Maybe even recreate a few of them.”

Cato turns his head just enough to look at me, his expression somewhere between amused and turned on. “You going to fuck me in an alley, darlin’?”

I hum noncommittally. “Maybe I will. Something tells me you’d like the possibility of someone overhearing everything I’d be doing to you.”

He grunts and rolls his eyes, but I catch the flush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the wind.

“Or maybe you’d like the risk of being seen more,” I say as my hand lifts to his chest, holding him against me. “I’d pin you just like this against the wall. Let your head face the crowd so you’d know if we were caught. You’d love it.”

“Think so, do you?” he breathes, still with that bite of challenge in his tone.

My fingers drift lower, brushing over the growing bulge in his pants. “Certainly feels like it to me.”

“Don’t work me up if you’re not willing to finish the job,” he warns.

I laugh quietly, eyes darting toward the rest of our party. For half a second I consider sliding my hand into his pants and making him eat his words, but the advanced hearing in our group and Cato’s tendency to get loud mean we’d undoubtedly be caught. While that might add to the fun if we were anonymous, being among friends—and Brihn—puts a damper on the idea.

“Wait until we get to the capital,” I murmur as I slide my hand back to a more respectable spot on his stomach. “We’ll cause some trouble there.”

I hold him a little tighter as his cheeks lift in a grin. “Deal.”

The next morning, something completely new catches my eye. A large, long building sits back from the road, with smoke rising steadily from a line of chimneys. Workers move in and out, carrying bolts of cloth and stacks of cured hides into waiting carriages.

“Is that a factory?” I ask.

Brihn nods. “One of the very first. In the early days, after the veil had just closed, a human visited Lhoris. The way the story is told, she worked in planning factories and assembly lines back in her world. The concept was novel to our people. As you know, we always handled most things within families or villages. One of the tanners took a special interest in the idea and convinced a few of the others they could increase production if they listened to her.”

“It worked, then?” I ask, gesturing at the bustling scene.

“It did. They visited other cities, found the craft workers they needed, and convinced a few of them to join the venture. In the end, a group of weavers, spinners, dye makers, and a few mechanically inclined folk worked together to build this place. Production time for everything was nearly cut in half, and word spread. It’s grown into something incredible.”

“I’ll be damned,” Cato mutters as he watches them work.

“Not everything from your world was bad,” Brihn says gently, “and not everything from this world is, either. Evil is loud, but the good is there, too. It’s just quieter. Sometimes you have to look for it.”

My chest swells with quiet pride at the way the world has adapted. “I’ve never seen anything like that here before.”

Brihn smiles. “We’re learning. Slowly, sometimes, but learning nonetheless. Not everything can be solved with swords and brute force.”

The further north we travel, the more populated the roads become. What were once empty, snow-covered trails fill with fellow travelers, merchant caravans, and groups of locals. By midday we cross paths with one of the Vaelor’s patrols—riders in heavy purple cloaks over well-worn leather armor. Their presence brings a sense of safety after so many days of constantly looking over our shoulders.

The rest of the journey is almost pleasant, even with our exhaustion. Everyone is sore from the long hours in the saddle and tired from sleeping in short intervals, but the mood has lifted. Spirits are higher than they’ve been since we left Maelithryne.