Luneshale Pass [aaf] the weight of history

She kindled, the whole of her, a licking flame, and he knew he was privileged as the one to look upon her, to be in reception of her mouth as it curved. He held out an arm and aided her seat, and only when she was reclined did he tilt his lips to her ear.

“The stares,” and it would be so easy to put his lips there. But for her honor he only ever hovered, allowing instead his eyes to fold over every place she soon would feel his kiss. He would teach her, as he would be taught. They would learn from eachother.

“No mortal man can resist you, Toula, Queen of the Red Serpent. No God, either.”