“Stars.” I smile. “Obviously. Symbol of the Covari.”
He smiled. “How is that possible? The stars don’t come out when the sun is up.”
This guy really knows our culture. He doesn’t bat an eyelash at my reference to Auralia’s most secretive tribe, the Covari, warrior-scholars dedicated to the preservation of the royal line.
“Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
“Fair enough.” His smile wilts. “The Ansi consider ourselves the star tribe. Split off when the Sun and Moon went to war.”
I go still. This isn’t information recorded in our history books. Nobody really knew why they disappeared, only that the Ansi were disgusted with the fighting between the Auralians and Myseci, and refused to choose a side.
Some stories claim that Zosia’s ancestors wiped the tribe out. Clearly not the case, although I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an attack and those imperfect histories are the only record of an attempt at ethnic cleansing.
“The Sun and Moon have long since reconciled, Tovian.” I wet my lips. “Have you considered doing the same?”
“It isn’t up to me,” he says quietly. “The Ansi are a small tribe, compared to the others. Five hundred years ago, we hid because to choose a side risked destroying us.”
“This is an emergency, Tovian. We need all the help we can get.”
His expression turns serious. Contemplative. It suits him, too. He’s a thoughtful man, I realize with a start. There’s much more to him than a keen sense of humor and a mysterious family.
“I’ll take you to Oceanside, Arianelle. I cannot promise anything further without consulting my mother.”
Before I could ask why, he ducks beneath the water. When he comes up, he takes the lump of soap and begins scrubbing himself clean. The handprint markings on his skin don’t run or smudge. Interesting. They don’t look like tattoos. I can’t figure out what they’re made of.
“Who is your mother?” I ask, when he offers me the soap.
“Queen Brenica of the Ansi.”
His teeth flash white before he ducks beneath the surface again.
Shit.
My guide is an Ansi prince.
The decision to conceal my identity as princess of the Myeseci doesn’t seem quite so smart, knowing that.
Before I can decide how to address the problem I’d created, a high-pitched whistling sound fills the cavern.
Chapter 4
“Dinner’s ready,” Tovian says, hauling himself out of the water and giving me an uncompromised view of his spectacular ass in the process.
He’s like Lorcan this way: utterly unashamed of his body. And why should he be? I’m a medical professional (sort of). Nobody’s body is bad. Tovian’s is exquisite.
Trailing water, he pads over to the fire and pulls the little pot away from the flame. I quickly avail myself of the soap—as quickly as possible when you have hair down to your waist—and haul myself out into the cool air. I avoid his eyes as I wrap a barely-adequate and not quite clean towel around my salient bits, and quickly don the clean-ish nightshirt from my pack.
Clothed, more or less, I sit on the empty cot between mine and the one Tovian claimed. He’s donned a cloth garment of a type I’ve never seen before. It resembles something a Greek statue might depict a man wearing. His leather getup is hung over the side of his cot to air out.
He pretends not to look at my clearly visible nipples. I pretend not to care. I do care, but not in the sense of being offended. Frankly, the only thing that offends me was the fact that he’s not attempting to tear my clothes off.
Well, I suppose kissing again would be a good first step. I’m still not certain how to handle his casual announcement of being Ansi royalty. Confessing my own, commensurate status would be a good start, but I’m too hungry to figure out how to go about it.
“This is fucking delicious.” I moan. Salted fish and tangy tamarind with rice. It wasn’t much to look at but the one-pot meal fills my empty belly, fast. Almost as soon as I scrape the last bite from my bowl, my eyelids droop.
“Tired, Arianelle?” Tovian asks, teasing. I’m falling asleep on my feet. Between losing Orisa–
Orisa.
