Her nostrils flared at his satisfied face, his cerulean eyes dancing at the delight of her in pain. “Shut up and take me to your giver.”
“Where are you shoes?” he asked.
“Oh.” Aydra had forgotten she’d taken them off. “I’m actually not sure.”
Nadir laughed at her and then draped his arm around her shoulders. “Good thing the trail is sand. I’m sure one of my sisters will have a pair that will fit.”
Draven did not go with them to the Umber. Instead, he helped his people take their dead back to his home. He’d barely looked at her since Dunthorne’s death, and she knew he was taking the passing of his friend hard.
She was left with only Nadir whom she knew to walk with. They spoke of the battle as they walked, of the way the strangers fought. He told her what they’d found on the ships—weapons, even some gold. He was having his people sail them around to the eastern edge of their reef to be raided of goods.
It took an hour to reach his home, and when they finally reached the hillside above it, she stopped for a moment to take it in. A smile rose on her face, and she shook her head at the beauty of their peaceful home.
Colorful tents lined the beach, boats pulled up to a line of docks that jetted sporadically into the ocean. The clear water poured softly against the sand on the shore. She could see the reef beneath the water as it spread out further than her eyes could see.
In the distance, she saw carts upon carts, full of goods, fabrics, food, and flowers. Her eyes narrowed. “So you are the traders?” she asked.
Nadir was stopped beside her, and he pointed at a great hill in the distance. “Beyond that hill is our food forest. We can grow a lot of foods here that you’re not able to in the northern climates. Most of it trades with the Blackhands and Venari. Your Dreamers only trade for the rarest of goods, as you grow most of your things in the Preymoor,” he explained.
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow at him. “Tell me, Nadir… are the rest of your people as beautiful as the home you live in?”
Nadir’s face faltered just slightly, and he held his chest. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he asked in a hurt voice.
She rolled her eyes as he fell off balance, faking pain at her words. “Take me to your giver, pretty boy.”
The noises of children laughing and playing around the tents danced in her ears. A few went up to her, offering her flowers, and by the time they had reached the big tent, she had a near bouquet of flowers in the end of the braid her hair had been woven into over her shoulder.
Nadir gave her no warning before whipping the curtain door out of his way and barging into the great tent, holding it open only long enough for her to skirt through.
“—luwee cidefu—”
“Grand!” Nadir announced with his arms wide, crossing the room to the older gentleman using an elongated staff to cross the tent.
Aydra’s brows narrowed at the language she didn’t understand emitting from the old man’s lips. But the moment Nadir spoke, the man turned, and a wide smile grew over his face.
“Storn, m’boy!” the man exclaimed, hugging Nadir. He clapped Nadir’s shoulders and then pulled back to look at him. “Sun harsh for battle today,” the old man said. “Venari must have good intentions.”
“Ah… probably not the only reason why the sun was bright for our assault,” Nadir said, stepping sideways and revealing Aydra standing at the door.
The old man let go of Nadir, and he took one step towards her. His long caramel blonde hair was dreaded down to his waist. The white and blonde beard on his chin thinned as it lengthened to the top of the man’s frail chest, and its color stood stark against the darkened olive of his skin. Wrinkles and puffed bags surrounded his eyes. He stared at her with the same cerulean eyes as Nadir. He clutched his hand on the staff, and he slowly crossed the space between she and him.
Aydra swore she saw water in the footprints he left behind.
“A fire Sun daughter with eyes of sword,” the old man mused as he reached her. His small eyes narrowed at her, and he reached his hand out to touch hers. Aydra’s stomach knotted as his softly wrinkled hands curled around her fingers.
“Your mother prepares for war,” he continued.
Aydra frowned, taken aback not only by the claim but also the broken accent in which he spoke. “My mother knows nothing of the war on our shores,” she argued.
“So she tell you,” the man spoke shortly. A small smile broke onto his face then, and he laughed the high-pitched chortle that made her brows narrow back at Nadir’s smirking face. He turned away from her and started moving things on a table nearby.
Nadir leaned in towards her. “Excuse his speech. He’s much better versed in the old language,” he muttered.
“The old language?” Aydra repeated, “what like, Haerland’s original language? Who—”
“My children fond of you,” the man cut in then, having apparently not heard Aydra and Nadir talking. “Never they brought a Sun Queen into our home.”
Nadir chuckled at the confusion on her features. “Aydra, this is Lovi Piathos,” he said simply.
