The temple was cool enough to make Solia shiver beneath the thin petitioner’s robe, though it was nerves that made her hands shake as she lit the offering incense. Breathing in the fragrant smoke, she meditated until gentle hands pulled her upright. Turning around, she looked into the smiling eyes of the temple priestess.
“You’ve returned,” the priestess said. She brushed hair back over Solia’s shoulder, then lay a hand over her heart. Feeling the heavy, fast pounding beneath her fingers, the priestess laughed softly, then leaned in for a soft kiss.
“Since the last prayer was answered, the wisewoman said I should be sent again,” Solia said, unable to keep the excited quiver out of her voice.
She blushed and looked at her feet. “Rain, the crops are dying.”
The priestess laughed again, sweet and husky. “Then we shouldn’t waste time,” she said, taking Solia’s hand and leading the way to the altar.
With lips and hands, skin sliding on skin, and cries of joy, Solia offered her prayer.