Page 99 of Storms of Allegiance

When he murmured that a hundred similar days wouldn’t be enough, it occurred to me that this was the first time we had ever spent time together without having either a focused purpose or Amara’s presence with us. And I couldn’t deny that it sent a thrill of pleasure up my spine whenever my eyes landed on him or when I thought about his warm, strong hand in mine. I had walked through a hundred markets, but it had never felt like this.

I couldn’t entirely relax, however. Nik gave every appearance of having forgotten the danger hanging over us, but I couldn’t put it out of my mind as easily.

Except as the morning progressed, I started to suspect he hadn’t forgotten about it either. More than once I caught his eyes lingering on a local in a way that told me he saw the same thing I did.

“There’s something strange about them, right?” I asked on the third occasion.

He frowned, not needing to ask what I meant or who I was referring to. Instead he tugged me over to the closest food stall and ordered two meat skewers. As they cooked, he tried to engage the stall keeper in the sort of polite, empty conversation Nik usually avoided.

“We’re from the ship and just arrived today, so this is all new to us,” he said, his openness about his origins making me twitch.

But when I looked around as surreptitiously as possible, I couldn’t spot any of Grey’s followers in our vicinity. Knowing Nik, he had probably been aware of that before he spoke.

“Aye, I figured as much,” the stall keeper said before lapsing into silence again.

I frowned at him as Nik tried again.

“We came from the mainland with the missing Constantine grandson.”

“That would explain it, then,” the man said matter-of-factly, leaning over to add a pinch of spice to the cooking meat.

Nik exchanged a look with me before making a third attempt.

“We’re looking forward to discovering the best food on the island.”

The man immediately smiled broadly, his whole manner changing.

“You’ve come to the right place for that. You won’t find anything better than my skewers. And if you want to wash them down with the freshest of beverages, I can recommend the stall across the way. The stall keeper is an excellent fellow who will give you a good deal, and I can assure you he grows the oranges himself, using only the freshest.”

We glanced the direction he was pointing where a man of a similar age stood behind a pyramid of bright oranges. When he saw us looking, he gave a welcoming smile.

Nik accepted our cooked skewers while I murmured our thanks. After an exchange of glances, we crossed over to the other stall. The second stall keeper greeted us warmly, his focus on the sale. But once he began squeezing the juice, he fell silent.

“Oranges must grow well in this climate,” Nik said conversationally. “Do you get a consistent crop?”

The man stared at him. “Our island has everything we could want and more.”

“I’m sure it does,” I said. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“But fruit especially must grow well,” Nik said.

The man stared at him blankly.

“Because of the warmth,” Nik finished slowly.

“We have all we need,” he repeated in apparent confusion, as if he couldn’t make sense of Nik’s comments.

“What’s your affinity?” I asked, trying to understand why the man found the simple conversation so difficult to follow.

“Plants.” He held out our two cups, accepting Nik’s coin in exchange.

We thanked him awkwardly and hurried away.

“That was odd,” I muttered once we were far enough away not to be overheard. “Especially for someone with a plants affinity. It was like he didn’t understand the connection between the weather and his crop’s growth.”

“That can’t be true for someone with a plants affinity,” Nik said. “Even if he wasn’t taught it, his power should sense it naturally.”

We fell into silence, drinking as we walked. The earlier light mood had disappeared completely, and I felt increasingly uncomfortable as I looked at the people milling around us.

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