Chapter Twenty Six
The desert was a torturous hellscape of burning heat.
I figured I could have slid right off Aziza with the sweat that ran down my body, if it wasn’t for the ridged saddle keeping me in place.
I imagined waving them on to leave me upon the sand, for I couldn't go any further. A girl lost to sand, sun, and the burning of my muscles. A poetic end, truly. For I’d burn either way, whether it was a stake or the desert flame.
Gianni, for all his friendly demeanor, kept a brutal pace.
We were three days into the journey, merely one more night, and then half a day of riding and we’d be at Beshmel.
A little town built purely for desert travel, merely existing for those passing through to take a break and restock their supplies.
Gianni had stated that it only consisted of an Inn, a few homes for those that worked there, and a little market for their needs or the occasional baubles.
I didn't give a shit how small it was as long as the Inn had baths. Sand streaked down my tan skin—now darker and far more freckled—from mixing with sweat. My lips cracked with each inhale and my throat felt as though it was made of shattered glass, cutting and burning me from the inside.
I would take a life of seafaring over this any day. I shifted, attempting to alleviate the ache of my thighs as Aziza moved quickly. I would have to thank Gianni for recommending the quick-footed Tolokok. We glided over the sand with ease and they moved as if sharing one mind.
Even through the misery, I couldn't deny the beauty of the desert, the vast open space and rolling sand dunes.
Our first night I had marveled at the open sky, my eyes hardly able to take in the shimmering expanse. And when we woke the next morning to the early pink of the rising sun, my breath had been stolen once more.
We took breaks every few hours to stretch our sore muscles and to take small sips from the canteens, but it never lasted more than ten minutes before Gianni was rushing us back atop the Tolokoks.
He claimed the desert to be unsafe, never allowing anyone to sit still for too long until the cover of night fell upon us.
Why it was safe for us to camp in one spot for the night, but unsafe to sit for too long in the day, I didn't know.
I had tried asking him that first night, but he had merely shook his head and said, "The desert is filled with many things we do not wish to encounter. We don't rest until the night falls and covers us from the threats that roam here."
It was reminiscent of Antoni's warning to be careful of the creatures that roamed the desert and I didn't ask again. I wasn’t entirely sure if I even wanted to know.
We travelled in relative silence for most of the days, all too exhausted and sore for idle conversations.
When the blazing sun fell beneath the horizon and the stars began to shine, I could have cried when Gianni called for a stop.
We all slid from the saddles, falling into routine as we quickly unpacked the supplies.
My legs shook as I set up camp, fingers fumbling with the fabric that would cover me in the night.
I let out a breath of relief when Roan approached, taking over, his hands quick and familiar with the set up.
After he was finished I crawled inside the structure with a quiet thank you, dragging my bags after me.
I was quick to rip open the bag that contained my potions.
Neat little rows of vials staring back, cushioned between swaths of fabric.
My fingers dug out six of the hydration and nutrient replenishing potions.
I’d need to brew another batch soon as I was quickly growing low on them.
Crawling back out, I rose on shaky legs to pass them out to each of my companions.
Groans of relief echoed as we all downed the contents of the vials.
As the liquid poured into my mouth, I felt the burning, parched walls of my throat relax, my chapped lips easing their ache as my body slumped into the sand.
Gianni began to build a fire—the desert days were hot and tortuous, but the nights were cold and long.
As we had for the last three nights, we ate a simple meal of roasted veggies, dried meat, and a broth that Gianni claimed was filled with vitamins and proteins.
What I wouldn't give to sink my teeth into a bit of fresh roasted chicken.
I laid back against the sand, eyes fixed on the night sky as the group spoke in hushed tones. They always spoke with a softness to their voices for the reverence of the dark. Perhaps it was instinctual, to be quieter when you couldn't see what lurked around you.
"What do you think, desert oasis?" Gianni asked suddenly and I sat up, my hands instinctively moving to rub the knotted muscles from my thighs. At my confused expression, Gianni smiled, his eyes drifting briefly to Bran. “We're debating whether passion and love are one in the same."
I raised a brow, acutely aware of the white-haired man who sat on the other side of the fire. "I believe they can be connected to one another, but they are not the same. You can have passion without love, and love without passion."
Gianni leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “And which would you rather have?" His tone was teasing, flirtatious, and I rolled my eyes, my own smile reflecting in the vibrancy of his gaze.
"I've had passion and I think I could do without it. I wish to be loved tenderly, and with a gentleness." My shoulder lifted as my fingers traced patterns upon the sand.
Gianni hummed thoughtfully, his dark eyes roaming over me. “If you wish to rekindle your desire for passion, you know where my bedroll is."
My laugh came soft, shoving him away and he returned to the conversation with Bran as I stood on wobbling legs, making my way to Aziza.
Running a gentle hand over the scaled side of the Tolokok, a fondness for the beast fluttered to life. She had been an excellent traveling companion and I almost wished she could travel north with us. Though I knew the Tolokok would not be suited to the icy, dense forests there.
Aziza nudged at my hand, knowing I hid a fist full of dried sweet berries, as I did every night for her. I opened my palm flat, allowing that forked tongue to glide over the fruit before the Tolokok ate the berries straight from my palm.
I turned when I heard steps shifting in the sand behind me and startled when I found Roan, a tin in his hand as he held it out to me.
"For your legs," he said simply as I took it. Opening the container I inhaled the spiced scent of the salve, my nose instantly picking out ginger and turmeric within it.
Smiling up at him, I gently waved the small luxury he had given me. “Thank you."
With the berries gone, Aziza slumped into the sand.
Pressing my back against her, I groaned as I slid down the scales, leaning on her for support.
Shifting forward to roll up my pant leg, I stilled when I saw Roan drop to his knees before me, his quick fingers making deft work of the fabric so it was rolled just a few inches past my knee.
“You can barely move without pain.” An explanation for the kindness.
He moved without another word as he worked and I watched, studying the sharpness of his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones, the way his sweaty hair hung into his eyes.
I admired the stubble that had begun to grow along his jaw and above his lip, adding to the allure he already possessed.
His hands reached for the salve before popping off the top and taking a generous dollop to rub between his palms.
And then those scarred hands were grabbing my legs, with such gentleness that my fingers were clawing into the sand from the ache ricochetting in my chest. He rubbed the salve into the muscles of my calf with a precision that had me groaning as he sought out the aching knots and rubbed away the radiating pain with careful ministrations.
It wasn't until he moved to my opposite leg that he finally spoke, his voice far too casual to be anything less than prying. “Do you plan to join his bed tonight?"
Lifting my head from where it had been resting back against Aziza, a wry smile crossed my lips as he continued to massage.
"Would it matter if I did?"
His hands stilled, green and silver eyes a storm that had me sucking in a breath as he leaned closer. “If you wish for him to leave this Goddess forsaken hellscape they call a desert alive, then yes. It does matter."
I hummed, closing my eyes as I rested my head back once more, patting the sand beside me. I felt him shift before settling down next to me, his back also leaning against Aziza.
"Is your vision impaired, Captain?" I asked, tone teasing, one eye peeking open to gauge his reaction.
When his confusion was evident, I gestured towards the others who were still sitting around the fire.
"Tell me what you see."
He watched for a moment. "He's flirting with Rena."
I nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, you see the playfulness he exudes there, similar to how he interacts with me. Now wait for," I quieted before Gianni's attention was inevitably drawn back to Bran, his gaze softening the slightest bit. “That."
Roan watched the scene unfold, head tilting and I gave him a triumphant smile as I spoke once more. “Even if I wanted to enter his bed tonight, which I do not, I fear I may find my cousin already in it. There's no need to be jealous of his flirtations, as nothing will ever come of them."
Roan was quiet for a few moments, his breaths soft and low. I moved a bit closer, my side pressing to his and leaned my head against his shoulder. "Oh and Captain?"
"Hmm?"
"Just so we're clear, there was no other man on my mind when I entered your bed.”
"No other man?" His question had me flushing, biting the inside of my cheek as I fought the smile that tilted the corners of my lips.
I didn't answer him as we sat beneath the stars, my head still resting on his shoulder, nor did he pry further.
A comfortable silence, a truce, enveloped us as I sifted through the feelings I had around this man.
The relationship confused me, having gone from cold and sarcastic, to friendly and respectful, to now flirtatious and so full of tension I could hardly breathe.
Yet he had left me alone on that dance floor, even when I had asked him to stay, but still he had said those words when we shared a bed.
You're like a storm.
I was confused. What exactly did he want from me?
Clearly he had been jealous of Gianni, yet he made no move of his own.
Lifting my head, I glanced up at the enigma I had been resting against and was met with the deep rise and falls of his chest, the lashes that fluttered against his cheeks, and let out a sigh. My head fell back to his shoulder as he slept soundly.
As much as I wished to ask, to clarify what was happening between us, a snaking of fear slithered through my mind, wrapping and constricting until my pulse quickened and my heart grew heavy. Perhaps the answer scared me more than the unknown.