Although this female wore the plain uniform of all public servants, it lacked the modest cut of employees of the Courts. If Eion didn’t know better he’d suspect she’d painted it on with a brush. Perhaps the same one she used to apply the deep pink colour on her lips and cheeks.
Under his tunic, Eion’s skin heated in response to her blatant sexual display.
On Stemm, a woman would never show herself in a way that would invite arousal.
“The archives,” Eion’s voice stuttered in his throat so he cleared it and tried again. “The archives?”
“Have not been accessible through here in over a year,” she pouted, exaggerating the pinkness of her wet lower lip.
Eion forced his eyes away although too late. The memory of the sight would drive sleep away for days.
“And?”
“Go back the way you came. The main desk will direct you from there,” she frowned then bit her lip and stomped away, disappearing in to a small back room. “I guess this means I don’t get lunch.”
Eion watched the door through which she disappeared. Her footsteps echoed out at him before the rough stone walls dulled them to nothing.
Gods and Goddess.
Nearly ten minutes lost by taking the wrong route to the archives.
