He seemed genuinely embarrassed and Lannahi’s anger evaporated in an instant. She smiled. “Shall we sit next to him?” she asked with a mischievous spark in her eye.
Mahhir chuckled but sobered quickly. He glanced at his sister, who stood next to him with her lips pressed into a thin line. “Will you let me choose, Lannahi?”
Lannahi understood what he meant and nodded. Mahhir didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to them. A little revenge was not worth the bruises on Lizaar’s pride.
Though the suggestion had come from Mahhir, it was Kazurr who led their small group to the stands. They sat in the last row near the stairs, Kazurr next to Mahhir, Lizaar between his brother and Lannahi, and Ashared at the end. Other fae kept a moderate distance. The seats directly in front of their group were empty, and the distance between Kazurr and the landshapers sitting closest to him—telling. Ashared was three seats away from the stairs. No one occupied them either.
Lannahi was flooded with a wave of gratitude to the men accompanying them, but small stones of anxiety were beating against her heart. Their loyalty to Lizaar was admirable, but their social standing could seriously suffer. Mahhir was a king and the son of one of the most influential Rulers in the region, so the consequences for him and his General might not be too serious, but what of Ashared? Swordsmen fighting for sport made their living not only from the prizes won in tournaments but also from bets placed on them. Of course, there were times when a popular contestant suffered defeat, but they could still count on the support of their fans. What if Ashared lost the respect of the crowd?
Master of Ceremony Halit entered the arena accompanied by Arbiter Bastet, who after the man’s introduction began to summarize the events of the past month. Lannahi tried to listen attentively, though the glances that were thrown at her from all sides more or less discreetly tugged at her attention like a cat’s claws at the hem of the dress. It turned out that Arbiter had nothing to say about either the southern edge of the Gameboard or Sarkal’s kingdom. Lannahi forced her muscles to relax, but even when the musicians entered the arena, she didn’t find relief. She remembered all too well the moment Nefari had challenged her. The artists were as much of an enemy to her as the kings and queens sitting in the stands, and not even the sounds of music could soothe her nerves. The sight of the golden-haired enchanters sitting on the opposite side of the arena and the hard gazes of the landshapers she caught out of the corner of her eye weren’t particularly helpful either.
Ashared leaned more comfortably against the backrest and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked at a man sitting a few rows away, who, having caught his gaze, quickly turned his head back toward the arena. Feeling Lannahi’s attention on him, the swordsman looked down at her and arched his eyebrow. A smile lurked at the corners of his mouth like a wolf ready to pounce.
Lannahi returned her gaze to the firebringer singing on the stage, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Ashared not only went against the grain as usual, but he did as if it was the most natural thing to do under the sun. Maybe she needn’t worry about him. Only fools wouldn’t recognize his boldness.
During the break between the artistic performances and the martial arts tournament, Mahhir led their group to a free space at the table and started telling them about the precious stones products presented to him by artisans from Rubycrest. He addressed nobody in particular but looked mostly at Lizaar, occasionally asking her questions. Lannahi realized that he was trying to draw her into the conversation by creating a semblance of normalcy for her sister as well as for the landshapers watching them. She moved aside discreetly, feigning interest in the food on the table.
“Have you ever eaten southern pralines?” Ashared asked casually while reaching for a chocolate ball. When she shook her head, he added, “They are very sweet, but the taste evens out if you drink bitter nectar with it. I think you’ll like it.”
She smiled. “I am convinced.”
Mahhir’s actions with Lizaar appeared to have worked as more and more landshapers decided to approach the buffet. Some only said a greeting in passing, some joined the conversation. Most ignored Lannahi or exchanged only basic courtesies with her. As Ashared explained to her in a whisper, they were mostly relatives who depended on Mahrur in one way or another.
“Ashared.” A fair-haired man with a mustache and beard moved closer, accompanied by a woman whose attire—a light gray jacket and a wide skirt—stood out against the pants and tunic jackets worn by most female landshapers.
Ashared’s face lit up in a smile. “Hadad, Nizzar,” he greeted the couple.
“We worried you got lost somewhere in the forest,” Hadad said, glancing at Lannahi. “How could you have missed the fight between Gaddar and Arieh?”
Ashared’s smile paled a little, but his tone remained light, “I was busy.” He looked at Lannahi standing next to him. “Lannahi, this is smith master Hadad from Sapphirinetower and tailor master Nizzar. Hadad, Nizzar, please meet songmaster Lannahi.”
Lannahi was just as surprised by such an introduction as Ashared’s acquaintances, but seeing their hesitant faces, she smiled as if there was nothing strange about the man using her less meaningful title instead of calling her queen.
“Hello,” she said.
Hadad regained his composure and reciprocated the greeting with a smile. The brown-haired woman accompanying him was more reserved but not rude.
“Lovely skirt,” Lannahi turned to her. “Your design?”
Nizzar affirmed. Though it seemed that the compliment pleased her, the look in her bright blue eyes remained speculative as if the woman wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Lannahi.
As if she didn’t understand what Lannahi was doing here.
Lannahi was certain that every landshaper present had heard of her defeating Lizaar and claiming Goldfrost, so it seemed absurd that the seamstress hadn’t until she turned her attention to Ashared.
It was not the look of a fae scanning a potential opponent for a weakness. It was the look of a woman wondering why her lover had been absent from her bed.
A thick, tar-like feeling spilled free in Lannahi’s chest.
He wouldn’t have to lean down so much, a thought flashed through her mind, before she forced herself to look away from the taller woman.
“Hadad casts swords for me,” Ashared explained when her gaze fell again on the fair-haired man. “We met during my first tournament.”
Then the conversation shifted to the previous round of the Tournament of Swords. Nizzar didn’t show overt hostility to Lannahi, but the determination with which she triednotto look in her direction spoke for itself. Lannahi felt strangely awkward. Questions multiplied in her head. How had Ashared met this woman? Was her affection one-sided? Had they already slept with each other?
Would the day Ashared leaves Goldfrost be the last day of his romance with Lannahi?
Be mine, Lannahi.
