Night Flower by Kate Elliott

Author:Kate Elliott [Elliott, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2015-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Kiya could see by their elaborate braids and expensive silk that these were sophisticated city girls, quite stunning and polished. Just by standing there they showed up how plain her own clothing was and how inelegant her effort to tidy up her hair and clean her face. She had wanted to look her best for him, but these women wore subtle cosmetics and shimmering ribbons as casually as breathing.

“Greetings of the afternoon, Honored Sisters,” she said, hoping a formal manner would hide her stab of envy.

The shorter one snickered, as if politeness was just another sign of her provincial gracelessness.

The taller drawled out a mocking reply. “Greetings of the day, Honored Sister. Where are you from?”

“From up north.”

“Ah, a village girl,” said the taller to the shorter.

“You’ve caught yourself a succulent fish to fry.” The shorter paused for a deliberate double take, running her eyes over his powerful shoulders and broad chest, his square chin and the blunt gaze that to Kiya felt like honesty and truth. Probably the other woman was just admiring the glamor of his deep-set and long-lashed eyes, as alluring as night’s sweet mysteries.

Back in the village she’d never in her life fought over a boy. Why bother? Boys weren’t that interesting, and she liked her friends better. Now it was all she could do not to punch the sly mockery off their pretty faces before their refinement and grace lured him away. Instead she rested a hand on Esladas’s forearm, and he actually twitched from surprise. With a lift of his brows, he looked from her to them and back to her again.

The taller tapped a manicured finger on the tabletop so close to Esladas’s arm that it was like a declaration of war. “Listen, we have ways we do things here that you may not know about. And the first one is—”

“Don’t talk to Saroese men,” she said in a disdainful tone that she hoped conveyed her weariness with this line of argument.

“Whoever says that? Look around, sister. You’re not alone.”

It was true. Although Esladas hadn’t explained why he’d chosen this place to stop in—it was too complex a thought to communicate—the tavern was the first establishment she had seen where Saroese and Efeans mingled socially, unlike the market where they interacted only on business. She’d even noticed flirtation going on, with smiles and laughter and knees touching under tables.

“I thought it was all right for us to sit here together,” she said, “and maybe not get stared at like what happens everywhere else.”

“You are new to town! If you don’t wear the white belt, you don’t fraternize with Patron men.”

“I am not sure I understand you.” Kiya still hadn’t withdrawn her hand, and the feel of his warm skin and taut muscle against her palm made her want to stroke right up to the shoulder. He shifted in his seat as if he could read her thoughts through her touch.

“Oh, you are fresh and adorable,” said the shorter one, and they

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