The past few days had blended together—spent in small taverns and modest inns, and Raymun was grateful for a proper bed after so many nights sleeping on the hard ground. They moved constantly, careful never to linger in one place too long, always wary of soldiers and bounty hunters.
Taro usually disappeared for hours at a time, returning with scraps of information—news of the search, or whispers from the gods' realm. It didn't concern Raymun much, but Osairin listened intently, nodding as though every detail mattered.
Soldiers prowled the roads, eyes sharp for any sign of the runaway Nile Bride, and Taro's information had revealed that a bounty now hung over Raymun's head. Whoever returned her to the palace would be handsomely rewarded.
Through it all, they kept moving, careful not to linger anywhere long enough to draw attention. Taro, ever the resourceful trickster, had managed to acquire two sturdy horses for their journey. Raymun, however, cursed her own lack of training.
"We have to move," Osairin said, helping her onto the black horse.
"I know, I know," she muttered, struggling to find her balance. The moment he mounted behind her, warmth pressed against her back, his chest molding to hers.
Taro rode a short distance ahead, humming under his breath as they left the capital behind. The wind bit at her face, but Raymun was far too aware of Osairin's heat to notice it. She tried to shift, to create space, but her back pressed firmly against his chest, her lower body uncomfortably close to his groin.
Why must the gods punish me like this? she thought, cheeks burning.
She attempted to wiggle again, and a firm hand landed on her stomach.
"Please—for the love of everything holy—stop," he said, voice strained, almost a growl.
"I'm trying not to fall!" she said, heat creeping up her neck.
"You won't," he murmured, and she could feel the subtle vibration of his chest as he exhaled.
After a moment, his voice softened, close enough that she felt it against the back of her ear. "I know a place near here where no one would bother to look for you."
"You're not… thinking of—" Taro's voice interrupted, unusually serious, void of his usual teasing.
Osairin simply nodded, and Taro fell silent.
They rode in silence, the only sounds the creak of leather and the rhythmic clopping of hooves. Raymun's mind was a swirl of heat and nerves, the warmth of Osairin behind her both thrilling and terrifying.
Soon, the dense trees gave way, and Raymun found herself facing a massive, abandoned temple. Its once-grand pillars were coated in dust, and sand had drifted across the steps, partially burying carvings that hinted at centuries of reverence and worship.
Her eyes widened. "How have I never heard of this place?"
"It's been centuries since anyone came here," Osairin said, voice low, almost reverent.
The wind whispered through the broken archways, carrying with it a faint scent of incense long extinguished. Raymun's heart raced, partly from the journey, partly from the proximity of the god behind her, and partly from the awe of the forgotten shrine before them.
Osairin helped her dismount, and for the first time in days, the air between them seemed to hum—not with danger, but with something unspoken, charged, and dangerously intimate.
The shrine loomed in silence, broken pillars and faceless statues casting shadows in the flickering firelight. Sand had drifted through cracks, settling over hieroglyphics—some erased, some missing entirely.
"Whose shrine is this?" Raymun asked softly.
Neither Osairin nor Taro answered. Osairin finally muttered, "Just an abandoned god. That's all that's left."
Inside, the air was heavy with dust and forgotten time. Raymun traced the hieroglyphics with trembling fingers, realizing the god had been deliberately erased from history. A shiver ran down her spine.
They made a small fire, the warm glow contrasting the cold stone. Taro, after a moment, said, "I'm going out. I'll be back in the morning," and vanished into the shadows.
Left alone with Osairin, Raymun wandered the shrine, drawn toward a massive statue in the far corner. He stood there, shoulders tense, eyes golden and unreadable. Hurt radiated from him.
"Come," he said, voice low, knowing. "I already know you're standing there."
"I didn't want to disturb you," she whispered.
He laughed bitterly. "Oh, please. Distract me."
She stepped closer, her heart tightening. "Was this your shrine?"