But it was my favorite place in the world.
“Winning a battle isn’t about skill, Dani. It’s about heart. And Mazin has plenty of that.”
I stepped onto the dirt with my talwar in my hand, watching Maz hold a too big scimitar in his as my father left us alone to spar.
“This is like charity, trying to improve your fighting prowess.” I lunged forward and removed his weapon before he could blink.
And yet, he never stopped trying. I did it three more times before planting my talwar in the yard and leaning over it with a yawn. That last time was harder than I thought it would be, but I didn’t want him to see my surprise.
He had improved.
Not that I would tell him.
He picked up his sword from the dirt, his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in one corner. I thought he would lunge again, pull the same thoughtless move. Instead, he lowered his blade and looked at me.
“I’m hungry, let’s stop for a moment.”
I snorted. “The real reason you want to stop is that you don’t want to be beaten anymore.”
He puffed out an exasperated breath and planted his own blade in the ground, mimicking my stance. “Has anyone ever told you you are impossible to befriend?”
A startled laugh bubbled up. “Isthatwhat you are doing? Befriending me? I have plenty of those, I don’t need more.”
He gave me a skeptical look and leaned toward me. Something flipped in my stomach at his intense focus. I noticed for the first time that he was not unappealing to look at—though he hadn’t yet grown into his limbs and his hair was an unruly mop. He rubbed the back of his neck and my eyes traced his flexed arm before darting back to his face.
What waswrongwith me?
“Dania, you don’t have any friends. Not that I’ve seen. You have sparring partners. What you need is to have fun.”
I stared back at him. “What Ineedis to train. Or I’ll be in danger of being as terrible with a sword as you are,” I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest and hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt.
He smiled, and I felt the fight go out of me.
I could stop for a few minutes. One break for luncheon didn’t mean we were friends.
“Fine, one meal.” I leaned against my talwar. “But then we go back to training. My father asked me to help you, so if you don’t want to I’ll train alone.”
I grabbed the fresh parathas made by a village aunty that had been delivered that day. We sat along the wooden fence of the training yard, eating in companionable silence. The parathas were rolled and filledwith spicy pickles and firm cheese. I must have forgotten how hungry I was because I practically wolfed them down.
“This may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Mazin said between mouthfuls, and leaned back against the post.
I chewed without looking at him, willing myself not to engage in conversation. But the afternoon sun cast a glow behind him, making the day seem softer, dreamier somehow. He tipped his head back and looked at the mountains framing our village, something in his eyes filled with resolve, and a little like longing. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, to want to see what he was looking at with such focus.
For a wild moment, I wished he were looking at me that way. I swallowed thickly and turned my head, my skin uncomfortably hot.
“They don’t feed you at the palace?” My voice came out croaky, and I stuffed more paratha into my mouth to mask my embarrassment. I might as well fall on my talwar now and die to spare myself more humiliation.
“Not like this. Everything is a rich curry, or an overly sweet dessert. The emperor wants the best, most extravagant. But this is simple and hearty and made for short breaks in the sun. It reminds me of when I was a boy.”
“You are still a boy,” I reminded him, licking some of the sour pickle off my fingers.
“I mean, before I joined the emperor.” He still had that hint of longing in his gaze that made me want to know more.
It bothered me that I wanted to know about his past at all, considering he worked for Vahid.
But I did. He wasn’t royalty, not that I was aware of, and he spoke as if he had once lived in a village like ours. I bit the inside of my cheek until I felt the gnaw of pain, but it still didn’t stop my question.
“What do you mean,before?”
