Chapter VIII
“The Dance”
Growing up, hearing the story of her parents’ adventure, Alirah had assumed that any long journey would be a series of dangerous encounters and narrow escapes. She was both pleased and disappointed to find that this was not the case. There were advantages to travelling by the road and with more than a hundred other people for company, but excitement was not one of them. Each day the caravan plodded slowly along, and each day she sat bored and fidgeting in her saddle, watching the world creep by.
For ten days or so they journeyed almost due eastward, over high, rolling prairielands. Then the road, which by then had dwindled to a faint track upon the hard earth, bent around to the north. The land took on a reddish hue and began to rise slowly but steadily.
One day Alirah found herself riding alongside Kelorn and gazing out with him at the lands which rose still further to the north. In that direction the world spread out in a series of high ridges and deep valleys, which they viewed end-on. The soil in the valleys and the exposed rock crowning each ridge had a deep, burnt sienna color. Tiny, swift streams ran through the center of each valley, but for the most part the landscape looked harsh and dry. Scattered groves of pine and juniper rose here and there amidst broad stretches of sparse grass, yucca, and sage.
“The Red Desert,” said Kelorn, following her gaze. “Or so we name it in Arandia. Those were the lands I wandered through on my journey, though I must have been a ways north of here still. I came toward Rusukhor from the northeast.”
Alirah nodded, remembering his story. Then she blinked in surprise.
“Wait… So there’s a perfectly good road, with actual people on it, and you decided instead to just ride through the middle of nowhere all alone?”
“Well I didn’t know where I was going,” he protested. “All I had to go on was ‘west and south.’”
“And ‘west and south’ by the road wouldn’t have worked?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know how far south I’d have to go. And the Great Roads are dangerous for one or two people travelling alone, especially this far out. There’s too many bandits and robbers along them. If you hadn’t helped Seilann and her friends, and they hadn’t invited us to ride with them, we wouldn’t be travelling by the road right now.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you then,” said Alirah, smiling.
A few days later, for no reason that Alirah could discern, the road turned and headed back south again, though it never ceased to make its way eastward as well. The colors of the world changed back to tans and browns. The land smoothed out until they might have been riding across a vast tabletop. Now and then a line of hills would rise in the distance, but for the most part Alirah could see for miles in every direction like a sailor gazing out across an ocean of sere grass. When, rarely, a storm swept by, she could see its rains approaching from many leagues away. More often she could only smell the rain and see it from afar, falling high up in the dry air without ever reaching the ground. Gray-silver sheets of virga drifted overhead like huge, slow water-spirits wandering over the land.
Kelorn kept his promise to train her. Every evening as the caravan settled down for the night he would lead her off to a secluded spot and do his best to instruct her in the art of swordsmanship. Just as he’d feared, the young Druid was not a great teacher. He had learned too much himself, and at first he took too much for granted as he sought to instruct her. At the same time, Alirah was too stubborn to ask many questions, and she quickly got angry with herself whenever she did anything wrong. More than one session ended up with them snapping at each other in frustration and storming away in a huff.
Nevertheless, Alirah quickly grew stronger and more skilled. After a few weeks she’d become twice the swordswoman that she’d been in Rusukhor. Try as she might, however, she could not withstand a direct attack if he put his weight and strength behind it. Nor could she stagger him with the force of a blow as he could do to her. She knew if she ever got into another real fight her survival would depend on her agility and her wits.
One morning, nearly a month out from Rusukhor, the flatlands came abruptly to an end. The ground ahead rose in a low, curving swell. The road climbed up this rise in a handful of lazy switchbacks. From atop the rise, Alirah could look out and down across a broad, shallow valley, out of which sandy hills rose like little islands. Beyond the valley the road turned to run almost due eastward once more, through a tumbled land which slowly became greener as it stretched into the distance. A shadow of even darker green lay against the horizon, where low mountains rose at the edge of sight.
Closer at hand, in the middle of the valley, an undersized stream flowed amidst a wide, rocky bed. Alirah imagined that great, brown floods must rush along in the spring when faraway snows melted, but now the water had dwindled to a clear, glittering ribbon. Near the road it curved around the base of one of the small hills. A fair sized town stood where the slopes of the hill met the riverbed. The town was far larger than the few other dusty villages they’d passed through since Rusukhor, and a high, earthen wall stood around it. The buildings of the town were partly constructed of mud-brick, and partly carved out of the sandstone of the hill. At the center of the town Alirah saw a big, fort-like caravanserai not that different from Surim’s.
The Khor’dua outriders had come to a halt after sighting the town. When Alirah reached the top of the rise, she found Kelorn already there waiting for her. He sat in silence for a moment while she surveyed the town, shielding her eyes against the sun with one hand. Then he stirred in his saddle.
“I think that must be Qurn,” he said. “The town, I mean. And the river must be the Giris.”
“Ah,” said Alirah. She nodded as if she understood, although the names meant nothing to her. Then she frowned. “Wait. How could you know what they’re called? You said you’ve never been this way before.”
“I haven’t. I just… I just like maps, I guess.”
His voice grew so halting and hesitant that he might have been confessing to a crime. She raised her eyebrows.
“What’s wrong with liking maps?”
“Nothing,” he said at once, too quickly.
She stared at him in blank confusion for a moment. At last she shook her head in disbelief and shrugged. “Well I don’t know what’s the matter. That seems like a pretty silly thing to be embarrassed about, even for you. I’d think it would be nice knowing what every place was called. I’ve hardly ever seen a map other than one being drawn in the dirt.”
“My father’s library was full of old maps,” said Kelorn, still blushing. “He never looked at them, as far as I know, but I used to sit and study them all when I was little. I… I used to imagine what all the different places must be like.”
All of a sudden, with the Sight, Alirah could see him as a boy. He sat by himself in a big room with stone walls that were lined with shelves of books and scrolls. Through narrow windows she could see snow falling outside, and she could hear it flicking against the glass. Young Kelorn was winter-pale and plump: not quite fat, but with an obvious fondness for food and sitting indoors. His eyes were bright and he smiled faintly as he poured over an old scroll which he’d laid out before him, its edges held down by more books. Then all at once a deep voice rang out, muted by distance and stone, but obviously sharp and full of anger. Young Kelorn scrambled to his feet in alarm.
“What?”
Alirah blinked, startled out of her vision. The young Druid sat before her again as a man in his middle twenties, strong and sunned, and made lean by training and months of travel. He’d noticed her stare.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, looking away. But her eyes had already flown wide and her voice sounded high and strained even in her own ears. A powerful sensation of guilt flooded into her. Kelorn frowned at her in confusion for a moment, then he understood.
> “You saw something, didn’t you? With the Sight, I mean.”
She sighed, but nodded. “Just you. As a boy. Sitting in your dad’s library, I guess. You were happy, but then someone yelled at you and you got scared. Really scared, like you’d been caught doing something awful. But you were just sitting there.”
It was Kelorn’s turn to sigh and look away. He seemed ashamed. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, but even more intently she felt a surge of anger.
“Well don’t be embarrassed, you didn’t do anything wrong! Who was yelling at you like that? Was it your father?”
“Probably.”
“What in the world for?”
He shook his head suddenly and looked back up at her. His face was red and his eyes had grown hard. “Look, I’d rather not talk about it, okay? I know you can’t control what you See, but that doesn’t mean I…”
“Okay,” said Alirah at once, abashed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured.
A long, awkward moment passed. The gentle sighing of the wind, the clomping of the horses’ hooves, and the slow grind of the wagon wheels all became suddenly loud in Alirah’s ears. She looked back out at the strange town in its river valley, searching for something else to talk about.
“So what is Qurn, anyway? What does it mean that we’ve got there?”
He sighed again and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a town. But it means we’re about halfway between Rusukhor and Waysend, where this road meets the Great North Road that will take us to Arandia.”
At that moment Seilann, who had been riding in the rear of the caravan that morning, came forward again and drew near. She grinned broadly. A few other caravaneers had ridden up with her along the line of wagons and they looked just as pleased as she did. She caught Kelorn’s last words and called out to him playfully.
“Nothing? Just a town? It may be nothing to you, Druid but it’s home to some of us. My father and some of the other old timers grew up here. And it means that tonight we’re going to have a party!”
Saying this she dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and shot forward at a canter, letting out a whoop of joy as she did so. Her cry rang out like a signal. Excitement spread suddenly through the caravan like flames caught by a gust of wind. Many others took up her cry as they hastened forward. Alirah even heard a few faint answering shouts from sentries upon the town’s walls, borne to her ears upon the dry wind.
All at once Alirah and Kelorn found themselves sitting still while the caravan flowed around them, like floodwaters around a rock. Kelorn had gone from looking abashed to looking positively frightened, as if Seilann had announced instead that bandits were attacking. But Alirah found the happy cries infectious. She thrilled at the prospect of a party after so many long, slow days of travel. At last she shrugged, gave Kelorn as warm and comforting a smile as she could, then spurred Tryll onward with a high, clear whoop of her own.
In this festive mood the caravan rolled into town. Durgann, grim-faced and shouting, had all he could do to maintain a shadow of order. With a great effort he, Seilann, and a few others saw to it that all of the wagons were rolled up smartly in the caravanserai’s dusty courtyard, and that all of the caravan’s pack animals and livestock were seen to. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, the Khor’dua scattered to the winds. Alone or in small groups, the caravaneers sought out food and drink, or baths, or friends that they had among the people of Qurn. At the same time many of the townsfolk rushed into the caravanserai, eager to hear news from afar or to trade for goods. Ten minutes after the last wagon had rolled to a halt, Qurn looked like a stirred-up anthill.
Not everyone in either the caravan or the town was so excited. Most of the caravaneers were natives of Rusukhor, rather than Qurn, and the inhabitants of Qurn itself were a thoroughly mixed bunch. Some obviously had Dua blood in them, but there were also many who seemed to be of Jeddeinin descent, and many others with coppery complexions that reminded Alirah of her own people. For every person that hastened forward to greet the caravaneers, there was another who retreated into his low, squat home and locked his door. Yet as Seilann had said, Durgann and a handful of others had grown up in the town and had close friends among those who were now its leaders. So before the sun had reached its zenith, preparations for a homecoming party had begun.
A big heifer and several lambs were slaughtered. The kitchens of the caravanserai itself and a dozen or more private homes sprang into action. By the hot, dazzling hours of the afternoon, the scents of roasting meats, simmering vegetables, and sizzling fat filled the air. A good number among both the caravaneers and the townsfolk, getting ahead of themselves, started in upon barrels of wine and beer that were brought out of cellars.
Few of the Khor’dua took rooms inside the caravanserai. Kelorn did so, declaring that he would not pass up an opportunity to sleep in a real bed; but with the expectation of a clear night, most of the other young men just flung out bedrolls alongside their wagons. Seilann and her girlfriends pitched their pavilion tents in the courtyard. After a hot bath, Alirah joined them inside to get ready for the night.
The young Khor’dua women were already busy primping. They’d put aside the plain clothing they’d worn on the road and laid out colorful skirts and blouses like those Seilann and her friends had worn at Surim’s place. Now they sat brushing out freshly washed hair and trying on various glittering pieces of jewelry.
Alirah gazed wistfully at both the jewelry and the party clothes. The only jewelry which she possessed was a little silver ring which her parents had given to her as a birthday present two years before. She seldom took it off, and even then it gleamed upon her finger; but it looked small and dull alongside the Khor’dua women’s treasures. When she pulled out her own skirt and one of her shirts from home she thought that they looked plain and hopelessly utilitarian, even though she’d spent plenty of evenings dancing and feeling pretty in garments just like them. She laughed at herself and tried shake away the feeling, but Seilann noticed the look in her eyes.
“Is that all you have to dance in?” she asked.
Alirah shrugged. “It’s all I’d have to dance in back home, anyway. And it’s a lot better than wearing my brother’s old things.”
“It certainly is. But, fortunately, you aren’t at home. You’re with us, and the women of the Khor’dua have a reputation to maintain! We can do better than that, can’t we?”
Seilann said this last to her friends, grinning. They laughed and clapped their hands in delight, then flew into action. Alirah felt as if she’d stepped into a whirlwind. Before she knew what was happening she found herself trying on different outfits that the Khor’dua women dug out of old trunks and chests. They critiqued each one, discussing how each garment looked against her fairer skin. Eventually they settled upon a vibrant skirt cut in the Khor’dua fashion: long and flowing, but hanging far enough off the ground so that she could dance without tripping on it. They found a white blouse to go with it, a scarf of real silk to tie around her waist as a colorful belt, and a number of thin, silver bracelets and anklets to wear in stacks that would tinkle and glitter as she danced.
Reluctantly, Alirah untied Kaya’s ribbon and let her hair fall loose down her back. She also laid aside her sword. Both actions filled her with a vague sense of guilt, and she realized it would be the first time since being given those treasures that she’d go about without them. But the ribbon did not go at all with the rest of her outfit, and she was not about to dance with a sword flopping around at her side.
Last of all Seilann gave her a silver necklace, set with a small but brilliantly faceted garnet to go along with her own little ring. A pair of earrings went with the necklace, but like most Kwi’Kiri girls Alirah had never pierced her ears.
“Keep them anyway,” said Seilann, with a shrug. “They go with the necklace, and you may get the chance to wear them someday.”
“Keep
them? You’re giving all this to me?” Alirah asked, amazed.
“Sure. Silver looks better on you than it does on me.”
“No…” stammered Alirah, blushing. “I can’t take all this. It’s too much…”
Seilann grinned. “Nonsense. What do we go traipsing across the world for if not to be able to afford pretty things? We are none of us poor in this caravan, and you’ll notice I’m keeping all my gold.” She turned her body a little as if to better display her own outfit and the golden jewelry that accented it. The metal showed up rich and bright against her darker skin.
“Now come on,” she continued. “They must be getting started by now! And I can’t wait to see the look on your young Druid’s face when he sees you dolled up a little bit!”
Alirah laughed. But then, suddenly, she felt very nervous.
Between the caravanserai and the Great Road was a wide, open square lined by cottonwood trees and ornamental hedges. The square was paved with flagstones which had been smoothed and worn deep into the earth by uncounted years of traffic. Dozens of colored lanterns had been hung from the trees and strung upon long lines across the square. By the time Alirah, Seilann, and their friends strode out to join the festivities dusk was gathering. Stars were popping out one by one in a clear sky overhead, and soft glimmers of red, blue, and green lantern light were just becoming visible on the ground.
In one corner of the yard the ground had been raised a foot or so to form a low, paved dais. A handful of musicians had set themselves up on this stage, and now put forth a lively music of tambourines, lutes, and drums. In the center of the square a handful of brave townsfolk and caravaneers had started to dance, but so far most people were staying to the edges of the courtyard. There dozens of benches and tables had been set up, and people were busy with eating and drinking.
At first Alirah did not see Kelorn anywhere, and she felt both disappointed and strangely relieved. However, there was so much to see and smell and taste that she quickly forgot about the young Druid. She tried all manner of strange foods, and particularly enjoyed some little savory pies of roasted meat and corn dough that seemed to be a specialty of the town. Some of the townsfolk had also brought forth great jugs of a sweet, cool red wine, laden with fruits. She found it to be delicious, and after a few sips her nervousness wore off. Soon she felt both beautiful and exotic in her fine, strange clothes.
After a while the dancing called to her. She joined Seilann, Meiri, and the others out beneath the lanterns. As night fell the square became more crowded. Most of the music was quick and lively, and people danced to it in shifting groups. Now and then a slower tune was struck up and couples paired off to dance together; but these breaks came seldom. When they did, Alirah usually rested or went in search of a little water or wine.
Full night had fallen before Alirah, quite suddenly, caught sight of Kelorn again. He sat at a big wooden table along with a handful of the young Khor’dua men with whom he rode on escort duty. They were all drinking from big mugs of beer. A solitary lantern glowed over their heads and bathed them in red light. All of them were gazing out at the dancers with varied expressions of longing and haughty amusement, but Kelorn was looking at her in particular. When she first noticed him he was already gazing right at her. He blushed and looked away quickly, but she grinned.
Twice more as she danced she caught him looking her way. Each time she smiled. Of course, through the weeks together they’d caught each other glancing any number of times; but now cleaned up and made up, with a little wine making everything warm and bright, it felt altogether different to be gazed at. When she caught him for the third time, the musicians were just starting to play a slower tune. A lone man had begun to sing out in the Jeddeinin tongue with a deep, passionate voice. Alirah grinned mischievously and darted towards Kelorn’s table.
All of the young men there looked up at her as she strode towards them. For just a moment, under their gaze, she felt horribly self-conscious in her Khor’dua outfit. The faint tinkle of her anklets at every step suddenly rang loud and silly in her ears. Still, with an effort, she held her chin high. She spared one glance for all the rest of the boys and then fixed her eyes upon Kelorn.
“Hey!” she called, smiling.
“Hey…”
“Come and dance with me.”
The young Druid froze. His mouth hung partway open as if he was about to speak, but no sound came out. All of the friends he’d slowly and cautiously made among the Khor’dua now gazed at him expectantly. Some wore expressions of envy and some of amusement. At last, whether he wanted to dance or just wanted to escape their stares, Kelorn stood up and strode around the table to meet her.
As soon as he was in reach, she grabbed his hand and began to pull him further out into the courtyard toward the dancers. He followed, but after a few paces he veered aside, so that they drew away from the bright and crowded center of the square and instead found themselves in the shadows closer to one edge. There, as if by prior agreement, they came to a halt. Alirah turned to face him, trying to smile confidently even though she could suddenly feel her own heart beating very fast. She guided his hands down to her sides, but the instant his fingertips brushed the fabric at her waist he pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m just… not sure…”
“It’s okay,” she said, taking his hands again and giving them a squeeze. “It’s a party. Just have fun!”
A smile wavered upon his lips, but then died. He looked at the ground.
“I swore to protect you,” he murmured.
Alirah blinked. “From dancing?”
“Well, no… I…” he stammered. He stopped and took a deep breath.
“Here…” She took his hands again and guided them down to her hips, this time planting them there more firmly. Then she reached up and clasped her own hands behind his neck. His skin felt smooth and hot beneath her fingers. His muscles were taut as cords. She thought he would pull away again, but he did not. For a few seconds they just stood there. Then slowly, gazing into his eyes, she led him into a dance.
At first their movements were awkward and out-of-step with the music, but they quickly found a rhythm together. Alirah felt Kelorn’s hands grip her waist more firmly. Slowly the shy boy, that every night asked haltingly if she wanted to go and practice with her sword, disappeared. The strong and confident warrior that appeared sometimes when they actually sparred took his place. Soon he actually began to lead her in the dance, though they mostly just swayed together and turned in a little circle.
Alirah gazed up at him, enchanted. She felt as if she could see veils of fear and doubt pulling back within his eyes. A clear, soft light shone out from behind them. A strange expression, half joyous and half wistful, stole onto his face. Her own playful smile faded and was replaced by a look of pure, wide-eyed wonder.
She had no idea how long they danced together. Even after the song ended and the musicians struck up a livelier tune, she and Kelorn kept on twirling slowly. When they finally came to a halt they did not separate at once. They just stood there, gazing at each other in silence.
Then the spell broke. Kelorn started all at once, just as if he’d been caught daydreaming. Like storm clouds closing upon a rent through which the sun had briefly shone, worry and guilt swept back into his eyes. A dark, inward anger surged there as well, so intense that Alirah caught her breath in alarm. Before she knew what was happening he reached up and pulled her hands away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’re… what? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just… I should go.”
For a second or two she could only gaze at him in bewilderment. She tried to speak, but no words would take shape in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You… Go enjoy yourself. You look… You dance beautifully. But I have to go.”
With a last look, full of a significance that she did not underst
and, Kelorn turned upon his heel and strode quickly away. He did not return to his seat or his companions. Instead he hurried straight away from the lighted square and into the night shadows which loomed thick around it. He headed vaguely toward the caravanserai, but whether he intended to go there or was just running into the nearest darkness, Alirah could not have said.
Reflexively she hastened after him, but she froze after a few steps. She felt as if she’d been slapped. She didn’t know whether she wanted to cry, or laugh, or yell at him, or all three at once. For a few moments she just stood there, staring after him. The music and laughter behind her sounded suddenly faint and remote. It no longer had anything to do with her.
“Hey there,” said a voice.
Alirah jumped, then whirled to find that Seilann had come up behind her. The Dua woman’s friends stood back a good distance, but all of them were looking after her intently.
“You okay?” asked Seilann.
“I… yeah. Of course I am,” stammered Alirah. Then she sighed heavily. The Dua woman gave her a wan, knowing smile.
“I just don’t know what happened!” Alirah cried. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Honey. You didn’t.”
“Then why’d he run away?”
“How should I know? But he’s free to come and go as he pleases. And he’s not the only boy at the party. Come on, let’s go have some fun.”
Saying this Seilann clasped her hand and pulled her gently back to the bright center of the square. For a moment Alirah hesitated, still looking back over her shoulder to the shadows where Kelorn had vanished. Then at last she turned away.
Before she knew it, she was swept up in another merry, group dance. The night went on, but to her frustration she no longer found the dancing quite so enjoyable. The fruited wine did not taste as sweet, and the lanterns did not glow so brightly. Her thoughts lingered upon Kelorn. Even when a handsome boy of the town pulled her gently into another slow dance, she found herself wondering if the young Druid had gone back to his room or was just sitting alone in the dark somewhere.
Late that night, when the last fires had burned low and most of the lanterns had flickered out, Alirah found herself sitting alongside Seilann atop one of the tables which rimmed the square. They were resting and drinking thirstily from an earthenware jug of water. By then many people had gone to bed. The moon had risen high, but its light seemed soft and dim after the blazes of the evening.
As they watched, a final dance began. Two Khor’dua women whom Alirah knew by face but not by name strode into the center of the square. Each held aloft a flaming torch. They were both a good deal older than Seilann, closer to old age than youth, but they still moved with fluid grace. The musicians on the dais had disbanded, but now from the shadows a Khor’dua man began to beat time upon a hand drum. A second man sang out in his own language, his voice as slow and deep as a great river meeting the sea.
The women danced as Seilann had done in Rusukhor: slowly but masterfully, with quicker twirls and lunges in time to the beat. As before, as if by some silent command, the few remaining lights in the courtyard suddenly grew dim. At the same time the women’s torches flared. The flames of one suddenly burned a deep blue, while the other shone emerald green. As the women danced they whirled the torches about them like batons. Wisps of fire floated in the air or glided down along the women’s skirts or caught in their hair like flowers tossed by a spring gale. Just as at Surim’s place, neither cloth nor hair nor flesh suffered any harm.
Alirah watched and listened in amazement. She wished she could understand the words being sung. Even without knowing them she felt as if she’d been transported to some ancient and wondrous place that was filled with enchantment. When the dance finally ended and the women cast away their torches to expire on the packed earth of the courtyard, she clapped and cheered as loudly as everyone else.
Seilann grinned broadly at her awestruck delight.
“Have you never seen a firedance before?
“No, I have! I saw you, back in Rusukhor. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you! But then everything else happened, and I just sort of forgot. But it’s so beautiful. And it must be magical!”
Seilann laughed. “There is a little magic, yes. Not everyone can do it; you have to have a little of the Gift. But just a little. It’s as much showmanship as it is enchantment.”
“Can you teach me?” asked Alirah excitedly. Can I learn to dance like that?”
Seilann’s expression became bittersweet. She shook her head. “No, Honey. I’m afraid it’s a secret that only us women of the caravans may know. If you were to come back some day and live with us, travel back and forth through the years, then I’d love to teach you. I think you’d make a wonderful firedancer. But it won’t be too long now before our ways must part.”
Soon after that Alirah sought out her bedroll in Seilann’s tent. She was not the last to lie down to sleep. Meiri already slept in her usual place, but Seilann and her adult friends all came to bed much later. Alirah was still awake when they did so, though she lay quietly and pretended to sleep. Her mind would not be still. She kept picturing Kelorn, reliving the wonder and joy of the dance, along with the dismay of his flight. A dozen times she chided herself that it wasn’t important, and that she ought to just be still and sleep. Then she’d start pouring over every word and glance again.
When all the other women were asleep and the first blue glimmers of dawn shone above the eastern rim of the sky, she abruptly sat bolt upright, staring ahead.
Oh Goddess, she thought. Do I like him? Why should I like him? He’s like a big puppy: all protective one minute and afraid of his own shadow the next. And he certainly doesn’t act as if he likes me. And he’s not that cute.
But even as she sat there, she could see again that breathless, hopeful light shining in his eyes as they’d danced. She felt again the warmth and strength of his body against hers as they’d hidden from the Taragi in the dark. She saw his quick, shy smile like a happy secret being revealed…
She flopped back down onto her bedroll with a groan.
“Oh great.”