Page 9 of The Warlord's Wildflower
She tilts her head, giving me a slow once-over. “That’s right. You’re one of the little milkmaids Dakar brought in.” She smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Your dress is…cute. Are you going to a ball?”
I flush, curling slightly inward. “No, I just wanted to look nice.”
Her eyes drop to my hand, where the ribbon is still peeking out from my fingers.
“Oh, giving someone your favor, are you?”
I try to hide the ribbon behind my back, my heart thudding against my ribs. “I, um...”
She follows my glance. Her eyes land on Fenric, and her smile turns downright wicked.
“You’re not thinking of givinghimyour favor, are you?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can feel the heat rising up my neck, my ears, my cheeks.
Her laughter is soft, but cruel, “Oh, sweet Stars, that’s adorable. You’re really aiming high, aren’t you?”
Another girl who was walking beside her, and just as intimidating, joins in with a stifled giggle. I duck my head, clutching the ribbon so tight it nearly crumples in my fist. I wantto disappear. I want to sink into the ground and never come back out.
I should go.
I was stupid to come at all.
“Annie!”
I turn at the sound of my name. Maeve, thank the heavens, is waving me over from beneath one of the shaded canopies. Her voice cuts through the noise like a lifeline.
I don’t say anything else. I just clutch the ribbon to my chest and hurry to her without looking back, holding the tears in my eyes. I tried to be brave, but I don’t think I was made for this.
I blink fast, trying to stop the tears before they fall. Maeve sees me and waves again, more urgently this time, her face tightening with concern.
I run toward her, head down, heart pounding like I’ve done something wrong. My fingers loosen, and the ribbon slips from my hand. It flutters to the ground behind me, and I let it go.
It was silly anyway.
Maeve steps forward to meet me. “Annie? Are you alright?”
I nod quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yes. I just…there were so many people. I think the sun got to me a little.”
Her brows pinch, like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she lets it go. “Come on, then. You can sit with us.”
I nod again, grateful, my throat still too tight to speak properly. She leads me across the tournament grounds, and I trail behind her, hands clenched in my skirts. I’m sure I look ridiculous and out of place. Like a child playing dress-up.
Maeve lifts the edge of the chief’s canopy and guides me up the steps of the dias into the shaded space.
It’s cooler in here and a little quieter. There are soft furs and cushions scattered about. The breeze carries the scent of roasted meats.
Dakar is here, sitting comfortably in the center with his arms crossed over his chest, his face full of quiet pride. He glances over at us as we enter and gives me a polite nod. Maeve takes the seat on his other side, leaving the only space between her and a stranger open for me.
He is tall. His horns are spiraled and dark, except the left one is broken, giving him a fierce, battle-worn look. His clothes are rich and formal, trimmed in silver thread. When his deep brown eyes land on me, I want to disappear again.
“This is Annie,” Maeve says easily, settling beside Dakar. “She’s one of the Havenmoor girls.”
The commander straightens, studying me with open interest. “Is that so?”
His voice is stern, the kind that knows how to command a room without raising itself. He offers me a slight bow of his head. “I am Commander Garron of Thornhide tribe.”
My cheeks burn so hot I think I might faint. “I’m just Annie.”
