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“Oh, Mak. Of course you would think of that.”
“What can I say? I am your favorite brother for a reason.” He offered her his arm. “For now, I’ll step you to the bonfire. No unnecessary risks, and no long walks for you either.”
“Lio’s orders?”
“Your bodyguards’ orders, too.”
A moment later, Sabina joined them in the corridor. Perita hurried along beside her, tucking tousled strands of Sabina’s wavy brown hair under her headdress. Sabina appeared a bit flushed, and as pleased as a cat who had caught her mouse.
Cassia smiled and raised a brow at her. “Your hour of ‘rest’ was productive, I take it?”
“He still has much more groveling to do,” Sabina replied, “but it’s a start.”
Callen clasped Mak’s arm. “Do you need an extra pair of eyes on your patrol?”
“We’re always glad to have your eyes,” Mak said, “but tonight, you should dance. You and Perita have earned it.”
“Stop being so dutiful and enjoy yourselves,” Sabina agreed. “I insist.”
“Yes, my lady.” Callen smiled and took Perita’s arm, his gaze softening, as if even that simple gesture was not something he took for granted.
Mak stepped them out of the dim corridor and onto the festival grounds, where the bonfire cast a brilliant glow over the men who stood ready for the dance. When Cassia saw who was at the head of the line, her belly fluttered again. Lio looked back at her with an almost tentative offer in his eyes.
His Tenebran attire put Flavian and all his fashionable friends to shame. The deep blue velvet tunic, trimmed in silver, flattered Lio’s lithe build, the short hem stopping at his thighs. Snug-fitting black breeches showed off his runner’s legs. He was not dancing in silk shoes tonight, but tall boots like Rudhira’s.
She let her gaze slide down Lio’s body, then back up again, and when their eyes locked this time, a smile spread across his face.
“I told Lio he should dress up like a cleric, the way Methu did,” Mak said, “but he thought you’d like this better.”
Cassia laughed and tried to swat his arm, but he dodged out the way. With a playful salute, he melted into the crowd. She spotted Lyros on the other side of the bonfire, a silent presence in the shadows.
Callen kissed Perita’s cheek and went to line up with the men, while Valentia, Genie, and Nivalis came to Cassia’s side. She found herself surrounded by the women who had watched her dance with Flavian last year, this time undivided by feuds or jealousy.
But Ben had been there that day, as well. Running her fingers through Knight’s fur, Cassia scanned the line of dancers, then the crowd, but didn’t see Ben. She checked herself, regretting that she had indulged her urge to look for him. He had made his position clear. She should stop wasting her thoughts on him.
The sting of his betrayal faded when Solia approached with Kella and Tilili. Kella said something in Azarqi, then translated into Divine, “‘May he always bring strength and prosperity to your tent, and may your music always guide him through the sandstorms.’ That’s how my people offer well wishes upon a betrothal.”
“That’s beautiful, Standstill,” said Cassia. “Thank you.”
Solia stroked the top of Knight’s head. “Would you like me to look after him while you dance?”
The question took Cassia by surprise, but seemed a peace offering. “Oh, yes, please. No banishment to the kennels for him this time.”
“The kennels?” Solia asked with outrage. “That is no place for such a faithful friend. He can keep me company tonight.”
“Thank you, Soli. And…thank you for being here, despite your reservations.”
Solia pulled her close, and a sudden lump formed in Cassia’s throat. Last year, she had danced in Solia’s own Greeting dress, which had felt like a funerary gown. And yet here was her sister, alive and well. It was beyond belief. But it was real.
“I’m sorry I shouted,” Solia said. “I want this to be a happy night for you.”
“It is. I get to have you with me tonight.” Cassia’s breath hitched. “I didn’t think you would be here for any of the important moments of my life.”
Solia drew back, her eyes welling with tears. She waved a hand at her face and huffed. “Gods, I never imagined I would turn into one of those weeping mamas who wail through the entire Greeting dance.”
“Well, I never imagined I would turn into a blushing bride, either,” Cassia said.
“If it will make you feel better,” Kella said, “I’ll knock the tears and blushes out of both of you in the arena after this is over. Until then, I suggest you heed another Azarqi proverb. ‘Eat the honey you find in the desert.’”
