The marshes south of Eresh were treacherous at night, but they had no choice.
"So what's the plan?" Zephyr asked. "If we walk, it'll take forever. Ila doesn't have forever."
Aylin kept walking. "You do much for this priestess."
Zephyr looked at her. "Because she's dying."
"I know."
For several steps neither spoke.
Then Aylin added, "Had it been another priestess, I think you would have left her behind."
Zephyr frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Across the marsh, a horse stood tethered beside a small reed shelter. "There," she said.
Zephyr followed her gaze. "Wait. Are we stealing someone's horse?"
Aylin was already striding toward it.
"You were the one who said we had no time."
"That's still stealing." Zephyr replied.
She untied the rope. "Then be grateful I am the one doing it."
By the time Zephyr reached her, she was already fastening the saddle.
Aylin swung herself into the saddle with practiced ease and gathered the reins.
Zephyr stared at the horse.
Then at Aylin.
Then at the horse again.
"Right."
Aylin waited.
Awkwardly, he climbed up behind her, nearly slipping off the far side before catching himself.
Aylin grabbed his wrist before he could tumble into the mud. "By the gods."
The horse lurched forward.
Instinctively, Zephyr grabbed her waist.
Aylin stiffened for half a heartbeat.
The steady rhythm of the horse’s gait pressed Aylin’s firm backside against him with every stride. The friction, the heat of her body through thin linen, and the constant motion soon had him uncomfortably hard, his cock trapped against her. Aylin noticed almost immediately. She glanced back over her shoulder, a wicked little laugh escaping her lips.
“Something poking me back there?” she teased, deliberately shifting her hips in time with the horse’s movement.
Zephyr gritted his teeth, one hand sliding under the edge of her tunic. “You’re enjoying this too much.” His fingers found her breast, capturing a nipple between them. He pinched hard, twisting slowly, then harder still. Aylin gasped sharply, her back arching against his chest as the sensitive peak grew painfully erect under his relentless touch.
“Again,” she breathed, voice husky. “The other one.”
He obliged, sliding his hand across to torment her second nipple, pinching and rolling it until both were swollen and hypersensitive. Aylin’s breathing turned ragged, but she kept the horse steady, her thighs clenching.
Only when they spotted distant torchlight did they stop. Aylin twisted in the saddle and whispered, “ When your priestess is safe… I’m going to ride you properly.”
They reached the outskirts of Ur by midday. The great city rose proud along the Euphrates, its ziggurats gleaming.
People were already streaming toward the city gates. Farmers leading donkeys. Merchants pulling carts. Priests in white robes. Laborers carrying baskets on their backs.
Two guards stood watch at the gate with spears and bronze-tipped axes. Their eyes moved over every traveler entering the city.
Aylin kept the horse moving.
Zephyr tried not to stare at everything at once.
Ur was large.
Too large.
By midday they had crossed half the city.
The first herb seller shook his head. "Never heard of it."
The second recognized the name. "Had some years ago."
"Who bought it?" Zephyr asked.
The man shrugged.
The third seller sent them to another market.
The fourth sent them to the temple.
At the temple, an elderly priest disappeared into a storage room and returned several minutes later.
"We have none."
Zephyr felt his stomach sink. "But you know the herb?"
The priest nodded.
"Where can I find it?"
The old man spread his hands. "If I knew that, we would have some."
Outside the temple, Zephyr stopped in the shade of a wall.
The city bustled around them. Merchants shouted. Donkeys brayed. Somewhere nearby a smith hammered bronze.
All he could think about was Ila.
Lying unconscious.
Breathing weaker every day.
Waiting for a cure that might not even exist.
Aylin watched him.
"We are wasting time," he muttered.
Aylin didn't answer.
They spent the rest of the afternoon chasing one lead after another.
By sunset, Zephyr wanted to scream.
The old merchant listened to their questions in silence.
When they finished, he rubbed his beard. "You have searched all day for this herb?"
"Yes."
The man snorted. "Then you've searched the wrong part of the city."
Zephyr straightened immediately. "What do you mean?"
The merchant gestured around them. "These are market stalls. Common traders. Men who sell grain, oil, cloth and simple remedies."
"And?"
The old man looked at him as though the answer were obvious. "You seek a herb rare enough that temples cannot obtain it."
Aylin frowned. "Who can?"
The merchant barked a laugh. "If anyone in Ur can find such a thing, it is Saphira."
"Who is Saphira?" he asked.
"The richest merchant in Ur."
The old man pointed deeper into the city.
For the first time all day, hope stirred inside Zephyr.
Then the merchant smiled. "Whether she chooses to help you is another matter."
While scouting the merchant district, they were approached by a striking woman in rich dyed robes and gold lapis jewelry.
Zephyr stepped toward her, his eyes searching her face.
“Are you Saphira?”
“I hear strangers are looking for forbidden herbs,” she said in a shaded courtyard stall. “Dangerous game.”
Zephyr met her gaze evenly. “We need them to save a life. Name your price.”
Saphira studied him for a long moment, noting the way he carried himself and the quick intelligence in his eyes. She led them to a private warehouse overlooking the river.
Saphira asked only one question. "Who told you to look for me?"
"The old merchant in the eastern market."
A small smile appeared. "Good. He is less foolish than he looks."
"The herb exists," Saphira added.
Zephyr immediately stepped forward. "You have it?"
"I might."
Zephyr felt his patience slipping. "I don't have time for this."
"You have crossed half of Sumer for a single herb." She tilted her head.
"You are not a priest… not a physician or even a merchant. Yet you searched like all of them."
"I just followed the supply chain." Zephyr rubbed his forehead. "I mean... I tried to figure out who would actually obtain something rare."
Something changed in Saphira's eyes. "Most people search for an object. You searched for the path the object traveled."
Zephyr shrugged. "It seemed obvious."
"If you wanted grain prices lowered in Ur, where would you begin?"
He blinked. "What? This has nothing to do with the herb."
Zephyr exhaled. Then, reluctantly, answered.
A few moments later she asked another question.
Then another.
Canals.
Storage.
Transport.
Trade.
Taxes.
Each answer made her quieter.
More thoughtful.
By the end, the herb had almost vanished from the conversation.
Finally, Saphira sat down. "The herb is yours."
Zephyr felt relief flood through him.
Then she continued. "But I would like something in return."
"What?"
"You."
Aylin took an immediate step forward.
Saphira raised a hand. "Not in the way she fears."
Her eyes never left Zephyr. "I want your service."
"My service?"
"One season."
She leaned back. "I believe you are worth considerably more than three bundles of herbs."
Saphira turned to one of the guards by the doorway. "Take her to the warehouse and bring back the herb."
Aylin didn't move. "I can find it myself."
"I am certain you can," Saphira replied calmly.
Their eyes met for a moment.
Then Aylin reluctantly followed the guard out.
Saphira came so close to Zephyr that he could hear his breath. “Uruk grows arrogant. Their High Priestess sends riders and demands tribute while squeezing our canals and trade routes.”
Her eyes held Zephyr’s without blinking. “I want that pressure broken.”
Then, softer. “Help me weaken them.”
Zephyr’s mind raced. “Agreed,” he said.
Saphira extended her hand. “Then we have a bargain, stranger.”
Zephyr’s eyes dropped to her hand.
Gold caught the light in a deliberate way—rings stacked with control, bracelets that moved only slightly when she shifted.
Something in him noticed it before he did.
Zephyr took her hand. “But we do this smart. No unnecessary chaos.”
Saphira didn’t left his hand. “Where will I find you.”
“I can’t give you a place,” Zephyr said.
Saphira tilted her head. “Because of Uruk?”
“If I come back,” he added, “it will be here.”
“And if I need you before then?” Saphira asked.
Zephyr looked at her for a moment. “Then don’t need me publicly.”
As the deal settled in the warehouse, Zephyr stepped out into the open air.
The sound of Ur returned in pieces—distant bargaining, metal wheels over stone.
A hooded traveler stood beside him.
Close enough that Zephyr should have seen him arrive. He hadn’t.
“Ninsara has been arrested,” the hooded traveler said. “If you don’t return soon, Uruk will tear itself apart.”.
He opened his mouth—
The man was already turning away.
One step and he merged into the flow of people passing the warehouse gate.
Zephyr blinked. He didn’t see where the hood ended.