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“They are in the clans.” She noticed the tattoo on his bicep; this one looked like a knotted rope. “What is that one for?”
He stretched and angled his arm so he could look at the mark; the muscles beneath his brown skin flexed and shifted in a distracting roll. “It’s a popular symbol among sailors, especially those bonded by friendship or a life-debt. It means,my life tied to yours.” He relaxed his arm and flashed her a small smile. “Karim and I each got one when I was fifteen.”
It was a beautiful story, but something in his tone made her frown. “Is everything all right?”
Desfan glanced toward Karim—who was still standing with Razan. “He’s dealing with a lot right now.”
“His injury?”
“No, that’s healed well.” He sighed. “He has some family issues to sort through. I wish I could help him, but I honestly don’t know how.”
“He knows you care. Sometimes, that’s enough. In fact, sometimes it can be everything.”
Desfan considered this, then his head tipped to the side. “I’ve said this before, but you’re very wise.”
“Why thank you,” she said with mock graciousness.
He laughed. It was a beautiful sound—rich, full, and warm.
Her lips eased into a smile. “You’re a good friend, Desfan. To everyone lucky enough to become yours.”
His eyes heated.
Her stomach tightened, and the air was suddenly harder to breath.
“Imara—”
“Serjan?”
They both looked up at the guard who had spoken over Desfan.
The older man shifted his weight, looking a little uncomfortable “Apologies for the interruption, but Ranon Sifa is asking for a moment of your time.”
Desfan and Imara both craned their necks, and she quickly spotted the young nobleman standing near another guard at the entrance to the private beach. She didn’t know Ranon Sifa well, but she knew he’d been a friend to Grayson.
Desfan expelled a heavy breath. “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be over in a moment.”
The guard nodded and took off back up the beach.
Imara eyed Desfan. “You don’t seem eager to talk to him.”
“I’m not. He’s been asking for an audience for weeks now, but I’ve been avoiding him.” He scrubbed a hand against the mark over his heart, the motion distracted. “I bet his father told him about the cancelled meeting, and Ranon hurried over here, hoping to catch me. I think he wants to discuss Grayson.”
“And you don’t want to discuss him?”
“Not particularly.” He glanced at her, his voice dropping lower. “I know they became friends. I assume Ranon wants to see him, and obviously that can’t happen.”
True; only a handful of people knew Grayson had gone to Ryden.
“What will you tell him?” Imara asked.
“I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I suppose peace never lasts.”
“That seems to be the way of things.”
It was unfortunately true. In fact, now that Imara thought about it, it seemed odd that there had been relative peace in Duvan since Desfan’s coronation—except for Jekem trying to kill her, of course. It made Imara wonder what waited for them in the shadows—what new threat was coming.
