"I know," Kira whispered softly, her cheek settling back against his chest, listening to the calm, steady rhythm of his heart. "She is the Warchief of the Veynar. But you are the one who gave the Warchief her wings."
Sol's hands slowly roamed over her back, pulling her closer into his warmth.
"And what about you, my little huntress?" Sol asked quietly, his voice breaking the quiet silence.
"You spend your entire day running between granaries, counting hides, managing hostages, and making sure the entire chiefdom doesn't starve before the frost. You're carrying a mountain of your own."
Kira let out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers lightly tapping against his ribs.
