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Porphyry
Lussi’s porphyry eyes glaze over in satisfaction as we bask naked in the hot spring pool in our bridal chambers.
I comb out the flaxen hart hair on his huldra legs.
His lion tail twitches as I brush him, and he sighs, leaning into the pink crystal rock that releases a sweet aroma throughout which Malik has engineered the geothermal hot springs under the floor to always heat the Ice Palace from underground volcanic activity. The copper pipes carry the vital aqua vitae and bubble up the fresh, hot water for bathing.
“Can you scratch my haunches?” Lussi begs, his sloe purple eyes narrowing as his hoof twitches from me working his left flank of knots.
The hair is matted from the snow of our riding journey. I take the horsehair brush and smile slightly, holding rose oil and conch shell soap and working the tangles on his rear. He eases into the tug and untangling of the unknotting process. The mane around his waist bristles,
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