Citadel of Fire

Chapter Fourteen

A CITIZEN OF FARBS

Darius woke and wordlessly began packing up the camp.  There wasn’t much to do and, soon enough, he was brushing down Mirkal and preparing to head out.  The others were still asleep.  He’d have to wake them up soon.  He looked over his shoulder and saw Ayva stir.  She looked so peaceful just lying there—her mouth parted slightly, hair draped across her delicate features.  Why am I thinking like that?  Well, she was beautiful, just … not his type.

            He looked to Gray.  He slept like a stone, as if dead.  Even his brows were bunched, as if he were always deep in thought.  Even while sleeping?  A man has to let go sometimes.  There was a rustle, and, when he spun, Ayva stood before him.  When had she awoken?  He looked down, and realized she was still in her shift.  Blood rushed to Darius’ head.  That thin white cloth didn’t hide much.  He could see her outline clearly, slender body with curves and all.  He gulped.  “Ayva…” he breathed.  She put a finger to his lips and pressed closer.  Her finger was warm, or was it cold?  He couldn’t tell.

He looked over her shoulder.  Gray was still asleep.

“He doesn’t have to know,” she whispered, brazenly, though a bashful spot of red colored her cheeks.

All words fled Darius’ mind.  What was wrong with him?  A beautiful girl was standing before him.  Nothing was wrong with that, was it?

“Stop thinking so much,” she said.

What was wrong with him?  That was his line.  He growled in reply.  “I’m not.  It’s just, this is … unexpected.”

“Isn’t that your style?” she asked.

He smiled wryly.  “Maybe a little.  But…”

She drew near, silencing him, pulling her body against his.

Warm.

Reaching out, he gripped her waist, accepting her.

A sharp pain pierced his side, then Ayva, Gray, and all else faded abruptly. Darius’ eyes snapped open.  Light blinded him, and he grunted.  He looked up and saw Gray’s face smiling down on him.  “Good morning.”

Darius groaned.  A dream?  “Why’d you kick me?”

“That was me,” a soft voice said.  Looking into the light of the sun, Ayva’s face slowly resolved itself as she blocked out the burning orb.  Her lips curved in amusement.  “Did I break you from a pleasant dream?”

“I…” he faltered.

“You were grinning.  It must have been good,” Gray said.

“It was pleasant.” More or less, he added inwardly, feeling confused and still trying to slow his racing heart.

Gray laughed and moved away. 

“Wake up, Darius.  You have to see what Gray has done,” Ayva said excitedly.  She was wearing a strange get up.  Lately she wore a split riding skirt, but now she had on fitted tan pants and a soft white shirt.  Over it was a golden jacket with a few obscure symbols upon its hem.  It seemed familiar.

“What’s with the getup?” he asked.

“I’m a citizen of Farbs, just like you’re about to be,” she answered, twirling in display, “Like it?”

“It… suits you,” he admitted.

She beamed and asked, “What was your dream?”

“My dream?” he repeated, looking around.  The camp had been packed up and even Mirkal waited, prancing his hooves, excited to move.  A lie ran through his head.  A serving girl had just given me a big portion of mutton and… He stopped his mind.  “It was nothing.”