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“What’s the status?” he asked, scanning the area.

Donovan gave him a good-natured grin. “Rocks, rocks, and… more rocks. I have three of the men keeping an eye out. Nanna is helping Andre at the moment. Cianna?—”

“Uncle Nassie!”

Donovan grinned when Cianna rushed out of the house. The little girl practically flew across the yard and into her uncle’s outstretched arms. Musad chuckled when Nasser grunted from the impact.

“How’s my princess?” Nasser asked.

Cianna leaned back and gave him a brilliant smile. “Nanna said I could watch her sew up the man. I want to be a doctor. Can I be a doctor? Thank you for my unicorn.”

“You can be anything you want,” Nasser replied.

Cianna’s eyes widened as she spotted the woman. “Who are you? Did Grandpa send you to help Uncle Nasser and Uncle Musad?”

The woman’s warm, almond-shaped eyes held a glint of amusement in them. “Perhaps,” she replied. “I am Dalla.”

Musad frowned and looked at “Dalla” closely—and kept looking, though he knew he should stop. The rest of her was hard to see beneath the desert robes.

“Dalla? Like the warrior woman from my picture books?” Cianna asked with glee.

Dalla’s expression was difficult to discern. “I don’t know your picture books. If you will excuse me.”

Nasser lifted a meaningful eyebrow at him when Dalla turned and walked away. Musad gave his brother a sharp nod and followed her.

She returned to the edge of the dirt road and paused. He stopped several feet behind her and waited to see what she would do. She glanced back and forth before looking up at the sharp incline across the road that had a narrow goat path winding up the side. He shook his head in bemusement when that’s exactly where she headed. He followed. If she wanted to climb, they would climb.

It was impossible to ignore the graceful way she moved, and his position below her gave him a view of her form that was also impossible to ignore. He slipped on loose gravel when she stopped suddenly and glared at him as if she knew exactly where his gaze had wandered. A slight flush warmed his cheeks, and he grinned at her.

“I do not require company,” she stated.

“I did not say that you did,” he retorted.

She stared at him for a few seconds before she turned away with a muttered phrase that sounded suspiciously like a curse and continued climbing. She stopped when she reached the top and turned in a slow circle. Musad drew in a deep breath and held it when she reached up and slowly unwound her headscarf.

Her hair, a rich light brown, shimmered with sun-kissed strands. She had her hair pulled back into an intricate braid that framed her face. He wished he could have taken a picture of her at that moment.

There was a slight breeze that teased the tendrils around her forehead and caught on the scarf in her hand. She held thelongbow firmly in her other hand. He frowned when he realized that the quiver draped across her shoulder was full.

“How did you do that?” he demanded.

She turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “How did I do what?”

He climbed the last few steps and motioned toward the quiver. She glanced over her shoulder before she shrugged. Her eyes brushed over him before she turned away.

“It is the magic.”

He frowned. “Magic? What magic?”

She still didn’t look at him. Instead, she pointed to a distant mountain with the tip of her bow. He followed her motion.

“I must go there,” she said.

“Why?”

Her face tightened. “I… left something that I must retrieve.”

“Who are you? Really?” he demanded.