"Perhaps it has use to a soldier like you," he countered with a smile that held unexpected depth.
Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. There was intelligence in those amber eyes, a perception that went beyond his youthful appearance. After a moment's hesitation, I fell into step beside him.
"May I?" I gestured toward the scrolls he carried.
"Gratefully." He transferred half his burden to my arms with visible relief. "These contain poetry from the outer islands, songs of love and longing that our scholars wish to preserve. Beautiful work, though melancholic in its way."
We walked in comfortable silence for a time, the gravel crunching softly beneath our feet. Around us, the gardens hummed with quiet life, bees among the flowers, birds calling from the trees, the distant murmur of conversation from other wanderers enjoying the afternoon peace.
"The unexpected delegation has caused quite a stir," Ander said eventually, his tone carefully neutral.
Delegation. The word sat strangely on my tongue. "I'm not so certain we are a delegation." The response came out more curtly than I'd intended, and I silently chided myself to be more diplomatic. Though perhaps that was expecting toomuch. I’d never been a diplomat, only a sharp sword that stood between Serin and mortal peril.
"What are you, then?"
"Visitors," I said, choosing ambiguity over truth. "His Highness is charmed by your island and your customs."
Ander's smile held no mockery, but I caught the flicker of something else, understanding, perhaps, or sympathy. "You will forgive me, but you must know that men tremble when someone from the Three Isles is charmed by them."
The words hit like a physical blow. "We are not here to take anything from you," I said, more defensively than I'd meant to.
"No," he agreed quietly, studying my face with those perceptive eyes. "You are not."
We walked further in silence, the weight of unspoken knowledge heavy between us. Finally, he spoke again.
"It is difficult to accept that fine young men such as His Highness and his sworn sword are from the Three Isles at all."
"Are we so notorious?"
"Don't you know the answer already?"
I pressed my lips together because, of course, I did know. The Three Isles were spoken of in whispers throughout the archipelago, their reputation built on conquest and cruelty. King Dorin's appetite for war had made us wealthy but hated, powerfulbut alone. Even here, in this sanctuary of beauty and peace, that shadow followed us like a curse.
"Perhaps we should not have come," I said quietly.
"It's hardly my place to state the position of my elders," Ander replied with diplomatic care, "but I would argue that you are most welcome. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned on Eletheria even for those who do not seek them. Perhaps the Three Isles will prosper because of your visit."
I thought miserably that the Three Isles were prosperous enough. The only way for the nobles to grow richer would be to sack these very temples, to strip the gold from their altars and sell their treasures in distant markets. The thought sparked immediate guilt, this was the way of my adopted home, the only home I truly knew.
But there had been another home once, hadn't there? Before the ships came, before the chains, before I was forged into the weapon they needed me to become. Sun-kissed sands and mud-brick huts, the rhythm of tides and seasons, living with the land instead of fighting it...
The memory slipped away like water through cupped hands, leaving only fragments. A woman's voice singing. The taste of sweet fruit. The feeling of belonging somewhere that wasn't built on the bones of the conquered.
For one terrible, wonderful moment, I letmyself imagine what freedom might look like. Not the harsh liberty of victory over enemies, but the gentle freedom this island offered, the right to simply exist, to find beauty and peace and perhaps...
The fantasy took shape before I could stop it: Serin naked in golden sunlight, lounging on silk cushions beneath swaying palms. His eyes warm with invitation as he extended one graceful hand toward me. "How long I have dreamed of this, Rhazir." His voice soft as prayer, sweet as honey. "Come to me."
I stumbled on the gravel path, reality crashing back like cold water. Heat flooded my face as I struggled to banish the forbidden images that had sprung so vividly to life.
"You seem troubled," Ander observed with gentle concern.
"Not at all." The lie came out strangled, unconvincing even to my own ears.
He was quiet for a moment, then: "There are ways we cope with tension, you know. It's far more acceptable on Eletheria than on the Three Isles, I'm sure, but all men are made equal. And we all have the capability to feel pleasure."
The heat in my face intensified until I feared I might burst into flame. "Thank you, but I am... not..."
"Don't dwell on it," he advised with the samegentle smile. "We're far too relaxed here to worry about misunderstandings."
