She was vaguely aware of another customer but didn’t pay much attention until she noticed the expensive cashmere coat. It was her savior from a week ago. He stood at the end of the aisle, studying bottles of zelas wine.
Kal shrank back, wondering if she could pay and vanish into the night before he noticed her. Yet something made her hesitate. Curiosity—or just the chance to talk to somebody who wasn’t dead.
“Bitch, I heard that,” Durian said.
Before she could flee, he looked over. Recognition flashed across his face—which she had to admit was very attractive. She’d always been fond of men with light eyes. This one was pretty, but not too pretty. His nose looked like it had been broken once or twice and his hair was in need of combing. Though it was odd, she recalled his eyes as being a darker blue the last time they met.
“It’s you,” he said with a warm smile.
She raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
He turned back to the shelf. “I was about to buy a bottle of zelas without having the faintest idea if it’s any good. Maybe you could save me?”
“I don’t know good zelas from bad,” she admitted. “But I’m told the greener, the better.”
“Ah, a vital piece of advice.” He selected a bottle with liquid the color of spring grass. “This should suffice.” He studied her heavy basket. “Throwing a party?”
“It’s my birthday,” she improvised. “And you? Special occasion?”
A shadow crossed his face before his smile returned. “Just a quiet evening.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”
She arched a brow. “You asked me that once already.”
“And you turned me down.” His grin turned rueful. “I have not forgotten.”
“Well, I don’t drink with strangers.”
He walked up and held out a hand. “My name is Levi. Now we’re not strangers anymore.”
With no choice, Kal clasped his hand. It was strong and dry and very warm. He did have beautiful eyes, like a cool mountain lake.
“In a public place, of course.” Levi gestured to the park down the street. “The benches there are quite nice.”
Kal laughed. “Nice benches, eh?”
Oddly, he didn’t laugh back. “You’re making fun, but I can assure you that those are the finest benches in Arjevica.”
“One drink,” she said after a moment.
They paid for their purchases separately. She’d bought a backpack to carry her inventory when the list had outgrown her pockets. Outside, the night air had cooled. They walked together to the park fronting the ballet, its ornate columns gleaming white in the moonlight.
Levi opened the zelas and took a sip.
“Well?” Kal asked, watching his face.
“It’s . . . truly terrible.” He coughed and offered her the bottle.
Kal took a cautious sip. The wine was sharp and acidic, with a strange herbal aftertaste that lingered unpleasantly. She grimaced. “That’s distinctive.”
Levi laughed. “You should be a politician.” He took the bottle back, their fingers brushing briefly. Again, she felt a pleasant tingle. They sat in silence for a moment, passing the awful zelas back and forth.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Levi said. “You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
“Oh! Right. Kyra Navarra.”
She thought he would comment on her accent, ask where she was from, but he just took a swig from the bottle and tipped his head back to look at the stars.
“The world is a strange place, isn’t it, Kyra?”
