“I’m aware this isMarqa,” she growled, dark eyes flashing. “What I wish to know is where the souk is. That is where we’re headed, isn’t it? Or are we to wander in circles for the rest of the morning?”
Marqa, a town to the far north of Ammara, was their last stop along the Spice Road. Due to its remote location, few travelers visited. It was a quaint village surrounded by oases, its streets lined with date palms offering scant shade from the sun that boiled down. Some of theseoases were known to possess healing properties, but that was not why Notus desired to visit.
“Yes, we’re looking for the souk.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, glaring and trying to ignore the passersby eavesdropping on their conversation. “Don’t give me that look.”
She batted her eyes, the image of utmost innocence. “What look?”
“The one that says you know best.”
A comment that would, of course, draw defiance into Sarai’s spine, shoulders squaring beneath her sapphire dress. Wisped strands of hair spiraled around her face, crimped in the insufferable heat.
“As it turns out,” she said pointedly, “Idoknow best.”
There was no point in arguing with the truth. However—
“You said you wanted adventure,” he reminded Sarai. And look where it had taken them: the Spice Road, beginning to end, the cities that studded its brilliant route, from the arid valleys of the south to the plateaus in the east, the high cliffs of the west. Each region, a striking facet of the place he called home.
“Yes, but I would prefer not to melt in the process, if it’s all the same to you.”
A smile softened the creases around his eyes. Notus reached for her left hand, placed it upon his chest, over his beating heart. The opal rune that signified their marriage marked her skin. The lead bracelet, twin to his gold, adorned her wrist. “Is that any way to speak to your husband? The man you love most in the world?”
Sarai scoffed. “You think quite highly of yourself.” Yet color pinkened her face.
“Do you deny it?” He tugged her closer, lips pressed to her sun-warmed cheek. Then her brow, nose, mouth, where he lingered for a time. Sarai relaxed against him—surrender, however brief.
“No,” she murmured. “I deny nothing.”
Her ear found his heartbeat. In the evenings, Sarai often rested her head on his chest, as though to confirm he was still breathing. The thought that he might never have awoken were it not for the sacrifice his wife had made tightened his throat with an unbearable pain.
Nevertheless, Notus had never seen her shoulders so unburdened as they were on this journey. He thought perhaps this was the happiest Sarai had felt in a long time. As he well knew, freedom was a gift.
Prior to departing Ishmah, they had wed in the palatial gardens, under a pergola of black iris, with King Amir, Queen Tuleen, and the newborn Prince Raj as their witnesses. They had exchanged vows, and kissed, and sealed their commitment to one another until the end of days. Notus had never felt so full, both in heart and in soul. He was hers and she was his. He wanted nothing else.
“I’m beginning to question your ability to lead us to whoever this merchant is before sundown, Notus.” The frustration in his wife’s voice was plain. “Who are we meeting again?”
“A family friend.” Technically, a friend of the royal family, though Sarai did not need to know that. It would absolutely spoil the surprise, a plan that had been in the works for months.
“You keep saying that,” she murmured, pulling back to scrutinize him. “How much longer must we wander?”
“Not much.” He hoped.
Sarai pursed her mouth, an eyebrow raised. Clearly unconvinced.
“Look,” Notus protested. “It isn’t easy navigating these roads. Half of them aren’t on the map.” He would know. He checked every three minutes.
“Let me be the first to remind you that, were it not for me, we would have likely found ourselves stranded, with no civilization for hundreds of miles.” Her smile sharpened. “Give me the map.”
She snatched for the oiled parchment, which he held out of reach. “You said I could handle it.”
“That was before I realized you didn’t know how to read one.”
Now, that wasn’t entirely true. What need had he for maps and directions when the wind identified east or north, south or west? Unfortunately, since losing his power and immortality, he felt strangely detached from his environment. The wind was little more than sensation, a brush of air against his skin. It spoke to him no longer.
It was a small price to pay for the life he shared with Sarai. His wife was joy, she was comfort, she was security, she was companionship, affection, belonging,home. He would do it all over again, give it all up, in order to live out his days with her.
“My map-reading abilities are perfectly fine,” Notus said, with only a small amount of indignance.
Sarai tossed up a hand in exasperation. “Why won’t you just admit that we’re lost?”
