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If she declined to come on board, he’d find another way. She was not vital to his -
His hawkstone burst into life. She is crucial. Acquire her mastery, honour her blades, and help her keep her oath.
It sent him a staggering reel of hereafter facsimiles.
He closed his eyes at the rush it transmitted through his head.
His two companions, realising he was in the midst of a vision and now used to his stance while caught up in one, waited.
Eyes alert, always in vigil.
Moments later, the hawkstone’s brilliance faded, and Killen opened his eyes.
He gazed at his friends, eyes narrowed, jaw ticking.
‘What did it say?’ Kaxim growled.
Killen looked up into the sky, exasperated. ‘Enough to compel me past any doubts.’
His mind now set in offensive mode, he prowled out into the street once more. ‘You two bumbling geese coming?’
Chapter 17
Seeking comfort, heat and refuge, Sana’a found a small cafe with a lively fire.
She took to its smiling host and delicious aromas from an unseen kitchen.
Sliding onto a table tucked away in a corner beside the roaring fireplace, she commandeered an armchair.
When the server came around, she ordered what was standard fare in most Kos.
Fresh river fish, wheat, and toasted bulgur grains served with smoked trout, radishes, and green apple.
She also asked for a tall, cold, frothy beer to accompany it.
Slumping back in her recliner, she stared into the fire that licked and danced at the logs.
The flames cast shadows that seemed to reach out and grab hold of the surrounding darkness.
The air, too, was filled with the crackle and pop of the burning wood, a symphony of warmth and light that mesmerised and comforted.
She inhaled. Kos was beginning to grow on her.
The jet onyx and aureate metropolis had its charms.
Its streets were always alive and echoing with the sounds of life, from merchants’ chatter to children’s laughter.
When she walked them, she enjoyed trailing her hands along its black marble and gold walls that glistened no matter if the sun, moon or stars were beaming down.
Each building was adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering inlays, crafted into evocative frescoes, giving the city an opulent and mysterious appearance.
She’d also become intoxicated by the mix of fragrances that filled the air. The scents of rich spices and the perfume of íkan mingled with the metallic tang and earthiness of the mountain looming above it.
In the cosy warmth of the cafe, she unwound, muscle by muscle, easing her legs out after the bout.
She rolled her neck and massaged her thighs, hoping for a good night’s sleep and healing after her meal.
When the food arrived, she set on it with hunger, needing to re-energise her body.
