Another silence followed.
Bedside manner had never been her strong suit. Kadaki searched for something else to say, something to distract him with. What did people like to talk about?
“You should be more careful,” she suggested.
He looked down at the table, embarrassed. It had been the wrong thing to say. She’d made things worse.
She cleared her throat and finished quickly without speaking again, then escorted him to the door.
“Thank you, Lady Mage.” He dug a hand into his pocket and then held out several silver coins. “Is… is this enough?”
She shook her head. “That’s not necessary.”
“Please.”
“I said I don’t want it.”
He looked uncomfortable again, but returned the coins to his pocket.
Movement on the road caught Kadaki’s eye. A group of sun elves were walking by. They were instantly recognizable as Ysuran soldiers, even from this distance. The sun glinted off their unmistakable gold and red armor, and longswords hung on their hips.
Refka had been occupied since even before the war had ended. The town was still free and part of Ardani officially, but it had been crawling with Ysuran officials and soldiers for more than a year.
The elves looked up at the house as they passed. Kadaki and Gregoris both stiffened.
The soldiers were frequently bored. Sometimes, they entertained themselves with the locals.
“Wait for a moment,” Kadaki said quietly. “Until they leave.”
Gregoris gave her a grateful nod. He had undoubtedly been having the same thoughts as she. “A group of them came to the shop a few days ago,” he said. “They demanded money. Taxes, they said.”
Kadaki frowned. “That’s bold.”
He shrugged. “They do what they want. Who’s going to stop them?”
Gregoris waited in the doorway until the elves were out of sight, then bid her farewell.
Kadaki’s heart continued beating faster than usual. Roshan always tried to reassure her that they wouldn’t bother her as long as she stayed out of their way, but it wasn’t easy to ignore the fear and anger they stirred in her. She’d been in the army during the war. She’d killed Ysurans, and watched them kill her friends.
Long ago, she’d been foolish enough to befriend one. It had been a mistake. Ysurans didn’t see Ardanians as their equals. They saw them as people to be used and discarded when it suited their purposes. She should never have expected anything else.
Familiar quiet rage burned through her as she circled around the hedge toward the anomaly.
It had been five years. She’d tried to erase him from her mind. But every once in a while she’d think of his face or his name, or something clever he’d said once, or the way he’d smiled when he was pleased with her, or the nice way he’d smelled, and the feelings would all come rushing back.
It was in the past. She was never going to see him again. He’d never known the extent of her infatuation, and that was probably for the best.
As she rounded the corner, she was surprised to find a tall, red-and-gold-clad figure standing behind the house. She stopped short. It was another Ysuran. In her garden. The bastards really were everywhere these days.
He was turned away from her and hadn’t noticed her yet, so she studied him for a moment, wondering whether it was safe to confront him. He did not wear armor like many of the soldiers did, but he had a sword on his hip. He was holding a metal rod aloft, waving it slowly this way and that, as if searching for something. The end of it glowed faintly with some kind of enchantment.
Kadaki decided that the casual trespassing offended her too much for her not to say something.
“Excuse me,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is private property. You can’t just wander in unannounced.”
He turned. It seemed to happen too slowly and too quickly at once. Almost before he had started moving, she knew, somehow. There was something familiar about his figure or the way he moved, perhaps. And when he turned and saw her, she watched recognition and surprise widen his eyes.
For a moment, their expressions mirrored each other in mutual shock, and then his brightened into a surprised smile and hers tightened with dread and disbelief.