Followed by Fros(57)
I smiled as Imad and his guard took the next fork in the road to make their way back to the palace. For an outing such as this, many nobles would probably have ridden on a litter or in a carriage, but as Lo had said, the prince was a humble man. A man to be admired.
Lo moved beside me, a hand resting on the large sword at his hip. “Has he returned?”
I shook my head, knowing he referred to Sadriel. “Not to the cavern. I saw him not an hour ago, in the home of a woman named Boani. Her son is sick with fever, and I fear he came for him.” My step slowed, and I peered up to him. “Lo, can I ask you a great favor?”
“Of course.”
“She lives on the northwest side of the city, by the mountains. Aamina knows where. If the opportunity arises, would you visit her? See if she needs anything—a doctor, medicine, food? See if her son is recovering, or . . .”
“I will,” he said, adjusting his uniform closer to his skin, attempting to ward off the cold without being obvious about it.
“Thank you.”
We crossed an intersection, and two soldiers nodded to Lo from their station on the corner. Once they were out of earshot, I asked, “There are more guards in the city than usual. Why?”
“Dissenters.” He frowned. “They’ve been . . . louder . . . than usual. Prince Imad is the great grandson of the man who overtook the throne through war. That generation has passed, but there are still those who support the old regime, who want it restored.”
“But Imad is a good ruler.”
Lo nodded. “Do not ask me to explain it, because it is as senseless as snow in the summer.” He chuckled a little.
“But they wouldn’t hurt him, would they?”
The mirth faded. Taking a deep breath, Lo said, “There has already been one attempt on Imad’s life, though the assassin never got close enough to draw his dagger. We caught him in the receiving room of the palace.”
I gasped and pressed a hand to my lips. “When? Was anyone hurt?”
Pressing a hand to my back, Lo guided me around a short wagon parked in the street, then returned the hand to his sword hilt. I shivered at that brief moment of contact. Rolling my lips together, I busied my hands with the ends of my head scarf.
“No one,” he said as we reached the last homes of the city. “Do not worry yourself; Imad is well protected.”
“But are you?”
His dark eyes met mine for a moment. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I will be fine.”
We walked in silence for a while—not an uncomfortable silence, just a thoughtful one. We passed two more soldiers, both of whom nodded at Lo, before leaving the perimeter of the city and starting the trek to my cavern. I found myself wishing we would never reach my little home in the Finger Mountains.
Home. My home. When did I start thinking of it that way?
My cavern came into view, and I could not help but share my thoughts. “When I first agreed to come to Zareed, I was scared,” I said, ignoring a chill that bit hard at my arms. “We have stories back home of Southlander mercenaries, though I always enjoyed the honey taffies they sold.”
Lo smiled.
“But the strange thing is, despite living in Iyoden all my life, when I think of home, I think of Mac’Hliah. I love the land, the culture, the language, the people.”
“Most Northlanders do not.”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but Zareed is beautiful. When I’m here . . . I can almost feel the sun on my face.”
He paused not ten paces from my cavern door and studied me, a light winter breeze tousling the ringlets of his black hair. Several seconds passed before he chuckled, as though hearing a joke carried on the wind.
“You are peculiar,” he said. “But I hope you will feel the sun again, Misa. If I could have Garen’s wish, I would ask for that.”
My stomach fluttered. “Garen’s wish?”
He nodded. “I will bring that book for you the next time I come. It is more suited for children, but perhaps you will enjoy it.”
“I would like that.”
“And I will find this Boani,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He smiled at me, nodded once more, and left for the city. Though I stepped into the darkness of the cave, I left the door open a crack and watched him walk away until he vanished entirely from sight.
CHAPTER 24
Time rarely passed swiftly for me, but the days leading up to Imad’s royal celebration flew by. In Zareed, the monarch’s birthday was somewhat like a winter solstice back home, where everyone participated, decorated, and gave gifts, only I was one lucky enough to experience the celebration firsthand.
In preparation for the event, Kitora herself braved the storm to come to my cavern to deliver a dress—a beautiful high-waisted, aquamarine gown that fell to my toes, made of the softest cotton I had ever touched. Kitora had layered a sheer, pale green fabric over it, and the same fabric also formed drooping sleeves and a shawl sewn in at the shoulders. Thick gold thread lined the collar, cuffs, and skirt, and gold appliqués fanned over my ribs like butterfly wings, centered around a large amethyst just under my breasts. I had never seen a dress so intricate and lovely.
I told Kitora I could not accept such a dress, but she insisted, saying that even the Svara Idyah had to look respectable at the sheikh’s banquet. She made me feel so guilty for trying to reject the dress that I agreed to try it on for her so she could make any necessary adjustments. I warned her about my skin, but fortunately the dress covered most of it, though I knew the sheer material over my arms and shoulders would provide little protection for those brushing past me.