A Break in the Sunlight

17. Road Turning

The next morning Sain was called away again, this time on military business. He'd been awakened shortly after dawn by the beeping of his comm, and slipped from Jaren's arms with kisses and soft whispers that he would be back that afternoon.

Jaren spent the morning in her room, restless, and a little wary of another run-in with Sain's cousin, but soon the heat of the sun pouring through the windows made even the large room unbearably stuffy. Making bargains with herself, she slipped into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and set out for a walk down by the river.

When she emerged from the garden by the Boathouse, a familiar voice slid through the hazy sunshine.

"Well, if it isn't the golden girl!" Balqis drawled from above her. "Leila come down from her tower at last?"

She was lying in a sun chair up on the Boathouse deck, looking down through the wooden rails and wearing what looked to Jaren like a black bra and matching shorts. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, and her skin–arms, shoulders, stomach, legs–was slick with oil. She had tilted a pair of sunglasses up from her dark eyes.

Jaren put her own hand up to block the sun that burned over the top of the Boathouse roof.

"It looks to me like you are the one in a tower," she replied.

Balqis laughed lightly in return, hopping to her feet with feline grace and coming to the edge of the deck, her forearms resting on the wooden railing.

"You may be right," she drawled down with a smile. "But I have a pitcher of malgon cocktail up here, and I've decided I'm not coming down until I can't walk straight."

Her eyes gave Jaren that up and down appreciative gaze again, "Kalila, I hope you are wearing a UV block. That gorgeous white skin of yours is going to fry in this sun."

"I am, thank you for your concern." Jaren answered crisply, and then, feeling she should say something more. "I was going to walk by the river."

"And you are saying I cannot tempt you?"

"Pardon?"

"Don't get nervous." Balqis' tone grew amused, and she gestured back into the Boathouse. "I meant with a cocktail."

"I don't know what that is."

"It's a drink. Malgon, ice, liquor and magic."

Jaren started to decline, but was cut off by Balqis's impatient good-humour.

"Come on. Don't be a child, Najwa. I don't bite unless I am asked to, honestly. The door is around the corner, just come in up the stairs."

She returned the sunglasses to her face and settled herself back onto the lounge chair, apparently feeling that the matter was closed. Jaren hesitated a moment longer, her hand in the pockets of her shorts, and then, as if finally losing an argument with herself, crossed to the door.

"How old are you, kalila?" Balqis asked, when they were both settled on the deck, frosty green drinks in hand.

"Sixteen. Almost seventeen."

"Damn, you're a baby."

"Not exactly."

"Well, you might not think you are," Balqis mused, "But you are."

Jaren shrugged. Whatever.

"I am twenty-nine. And I am definitely still a baby." The Arcadian woman dipped two fingers into her icy drink, sucking them clean before continuing. "So Husain says he found you floating in peril and swept in on his white horse to rescue you. Very convenient."