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Tenah understood. She’d dreamed of giving up her title and wealth to travel the world.
“The point of my rambling is that forgiveness is a gift. You never know when someone is going to rob us of something we cherish too soon. That insufferable sack of knives and bad decisions cares for you. His eyes trail you everywhere.”
“Who?”
Vesara groaned, giving Tenah’s cheeks an affectionate pat. “The hunter. You look so pale. Go easy on the Vristarian wine tonight.”
Face heating, Tenah swallowed and tugged at the hem of her shorts.
“The night is young, and we just escaped prison. That’s deserving of celebration, don’t you think?”
* * *
Shadows poured into the affluent square, dressed in breezy chiffon and silk. Their scandalous attire thankfully allowed Tenah to blend in as she followed Vesara through the maze of tents. Her eyes lingered on shadows in envy, watching them twirl and parade around a giant fire pit to a seductive drum beat.
And the food.
Tenah stopped to absorb all the smells, her mouth watering. Endless spreads of ripe fruits, smoked meats, and hearty pastries that spoke the language of her grumbling stomach. She stole a flaky creation with shredded meat baked into the center, nearly inhaling it. Then devoured two more, blaming the assassin for luring her down here just to sneak away, leaping into the ring of wild dancers.
When Tenah was done gorging, she perused the tents, anxiously searching for a familiar face. She found the boys lounging under their own tent like well-fed street cats. Gireth was sprawled in a mountain of pillows like a throne. Aeyis was hypnotized by the dancers, and Tenah wondered if he was tuned in to their carnal thoughts.
Her eyes sought Renton last, her stomach lurching. He leaned against a support pole with a mug in his hand, his face a blank mask. He wore black pants, fitted around his thighs, and a navy tunic that clung to his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal veiny arms.
Drawing in short breaths, she turned to Gireth—the safest option.
“The girl parties! She looks good in red too,” Gireth noted, giving her a wink and holding out a glass of bubbly wine, which she gladly accepted.
“Probably not the best idea,” a low voice warned.
She dragged her gaze back to Renton. His eyes bored through her, the same uncanny shade as the Boglands that had molded him. Hot blood shot through her body, leftover embarrassment from the incident in the field and now the outfit she wore.
Curse you, Vesara!
Pretending she hadn’t heard Renton, she forced her gaze out over the dancers, sipping from her glass.
“Lighten up, Nazrata,” Gireth playfully scolded.
Renton shook his head. “You’ve just volunteered to take care of her when she can’t handle Denesè spirits.”
This only encouraged Gireth’s amusement. “Oh no, how terrible, stuck taking care of a beautiful woman.”
He reached for the pitcher of wine to refill his empty glass then raised it in cheers to Tenah with a broad smile. She giggled. The warmth from the wine in combination with the heat radiating off the fire lulled her into a relaxed, dreamy state. Soon, it became a game. Every time she felt the urge to peek over at Renton or think about the field or Chaos or the death king or even Vesara’s story, she took another drink.
It was hard not to let the lively energy of the festivities wash over her. She debated joining in the parade around the square’s fountain when a small hand wrapped around her arm in a death grip.
“Hey,” Tenah protested.
“Hush, I just need to borrow you for moral support. If I give you the signal, light his ass on fire, okay?” Vesara said, tugging her through the crowd.
Tenah opened her mouth to protest—she didn’t even know what the signal was—when Vesara stopped before a palanquin on which sat a young male held up by armored soldiers. He had a well-trimmed beard, cropped dark hair, and half a dozen gold rings down each ear.
Her body went rigid. Only royalty arrived in such a manner. She considered dropping into a bow, except Vesara’s hand kept her upright.
Horror-stricken, Tenah could only stand by as the assassin began laying into the royal.
“You nit-witted dung heap!” Vesara said. “I warned you not to show your smug face here.”
The royal smiled deviously as he turned his hand in the air, examining it in boredom. “Your warning seemed more like a suggestion at the time.”
