"That the Light asks for — payment. Of a particular kind."
Lor hesitated. He looked at her. He looked at the floor. Then back at her.
He nodded slowly. "The Guiding Light is…" He cleared his throat. "It's a bit pervy. Yes. It demands certain things in exchange for its guidance. I don't always understand why. I'm just the vessel."
"Pervy," she repeated, as if testing the word. Her full lips shaped it carefully. The warm smile stayed in place, but her eyes watched him with a new, quiet interest.
"Pervy," he confirmed.
Aurora considered this. Her fingers laced together loosely in front of her.
The black corset held her breasts in a clean, firm line. The silver braid rested against the upper curve of one of them.
"Would it be pleased," she asked, in the precise, thoughtful tone of someone working through a list, "by a warm golden shower? From me, to you."
The torches crackled. The sound was small in the stone room.
