The yellowish rock walls sparkled with a sheen. We came out into a circular chamber. Water dripped from stalactites on the ceiling. Thick humidity and steaming pools of all sizes made the place feel like a public bathhouse. Vapor filled the smaller chamber, dampening my skin. I suppose this was their public bathhouse. A russet-winged Morgon, a Rowanflame clan member like Conn, lounged in a pool, his arms resting on the edge, his wings laying flat on the stone, while two scantily-clad women massaged his shoulders. My heart stammered at the thought of one of Conn’s clansmen, distant relation or not, being a part of this foul group of Morgon men. Conn would beat him senseless for shaming the family name if he knew. Gauis snapped to a halt. “Out!” The Rowanflame, unaware of us, launched to his feet, revealing his full naked body. Like the other men here, he was in fantastic shape. But it was horrifying rather than enticing.
