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The old man blinked slowly. “They tied you to a pyre of wood? How in the world did you escape?”
I batted my little-girl lashes at her playfully. “Would you believe I’m just that talented?”
When she snorted, I laughed. “Or perhaps Nicolette happened along and rescued me?”
“Now that I would believe!”
“Why?” I countered irritably. “Because it puts me in a helpless light, making me look incapable of taking care of myself, and ruins all my vain hopes of impressing you?”
She laughed aloud, and the sound broke over me like a freezing tonic, paralyzing me of all rational thought. This was honestly the first time I’d ever heard her laughter. True, joyous laughter.
It was intoxicating.
“I guess that settles it, then,” I said, gazing at the old man, unable to stop staring at him as Quilla’s amusement rattled from his wrinkles. “Since it’s your favorite, we’re going with that story.”
Her mouth dropped. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you escaped from a torch-bearing mob while being tied to the top of a pyre all by yourself?”
“Nope,” I announced happily. “Because I was rescued by who is now the Queen of Far Shore. Of course.” Except it totally sounded like I’d saved myself.
Quilla frowned suspiciously. I could tell she didn’t know which version to believe, and that amused me to no end.
“What’s taking you two so long?” Melaina hollered from in front of us.
Jumping in surprise, Quilla tore her attention from me and trotted forward, leaving me behind. Even decked out as the old man, she was absolutely adorable with the way she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and tried to hide the fact that she’d been so absorbed in talking to me.
Grinning, I followed behind at a slower pace, thrilled to know I was definitely growing on her. This, I could work with.
Chapter 20
Indigo
I was still grumbling to Quilla about my reservations to cross the canyon pass as we boarded the ferry. But just as Melaina had, she ignored my objections too. Neither of them seemed to care what kind of risk they were putting her through. So when the ferry master pushed his oar against the shore propelling us out into the water, my heart gave a jerky shudder of anxiety.
Here we went, whether I liked it or not.
Too busy squinting ahead to the other side of the river and the vague outline of mountains to either side of the canyon, I didn’t notice anyone else on the bank behind us approaching and hastily purchasing fare to cross the river as well until someone yelled, “Wait!”
I turned to see who was making the call, and everything else just kind of faded away as I blinked dumbfounded at the sight before me. The small, dark woman was decked out in nothing but gold beads and red scarves. Rubies clung to the thin golden chains that dripped from her headdress while great golden hoops swung in her ears. More gold wrapped around her biceps and wrists while rubies and turquoise stones plunged into her cleavage where her fitted bra top was layered with more golden baubles.
The sun glinted off the piercing in her belly button, calling even more attention to her bare midriff and the four black stars tattooed on her side, running from her tiny waist and down over the healthy curve of her hip where a turquoise and red hip scarf—interspersed with gold coins—held up her transparent harem pants that had slits in both sides and showed off her toned legs. Gold cuffs held the pants closed at the ankles, and even her slippers were ostentatiously beaded with gold, rubies, and turquoise.
Since we were the only customers on the ferry and we were still close enough to shore, the ferry master was able to shove his staff into the water and pause the progress of the pontoon, so the woman and her two companions could easily jump across the gap of water from the dock to the boat.
They carried no traveling packs, no mode of transportation, no nothing that usual people on the road would possess.
“Well, that’s not something you see every day,” I murmured, unable to stop staring, as I wondered if she was some kind of performer, and we were going to get a dancing show on our trip.
Quilla and Melaina, who’d been standing on either side of me, turned as well.
“What the fuck?” Melaina murmured, drifting forward in a daze.
Quilla elbowed me in what looked like the side of my glamour girl’s head, but what was actually my rib cage. “Stop staring,” she growled.
“I’m not—” I started au
tomatically, thinking she was referring to herself. She only ever told me to stop staring at her. But when I realized she wanted me to look away from the half-dressed woman oozing steamy lust, I blinked at her, stunned. She was jealous of my attention to another woman.
Irritated envy blasted from her feelings like shards of splintery ice.
