Guardians of the Desert (Children of the Desert) by Leona Wisoker Page A

Deiq smiled back, letting a little extra tooth into the expression, and Lord Rest abruptly saw someone across the room he just had to talk to. With profuse apologies, he hurried away.
    Alyea flashed a frown at Deiq, plainly not understanding; he lifted his eyebrows in bland response.
    “Are you going to ruin every conversation I get into?” she demanded in a low voice.
    Deiq blinked lazily, resisting the urge to say something nasty in return. The sharp hearing of desert lords meant that at least three other people nearby had picked up on that comment, including Evkit.
    “Possibly,” he said instead, and lifted his gaze to meet the amused glances being aimed their way; the watchers looked away hastily. Alyea caught the subtle attention shift, and her frown deepened.
    “Deiq,” she started; he looked down at her, willing her to just shut up before she made an even worse mistake. She stuttered, her face flushing, and went reluctantly quiet.
    You’re not the only one with sharp hearing , he tried to tell her without speaking aloud; a thickly muffled sensation met the attempt, and he withdrew, repressing a sigh. Women seemed to open to that aspect of their new abilities later than men, and with more difficulty.
    He couldn’t resist looking up and around to find Azaniari in the crowd; she was seated on a small couch, listening patiently as Gria rattled on with great animation, no doubt over something trivial. As though feeling his attention, the apparently old woman—and there was a story, all in itself—glanced up. Meeting his gaze, she gave a tired mouth-quirk that could have meant anything, then returned to Gria’s babbling.
    Beside him, Alyea stirred, her annoyance pushing aside the temporary hold on her mouth. “Deiq,” she said, “I need to make allies here. I need to talk to people. And you’re not helping with that damned glower. I can handle this; let me be!”
    He looked down at her for a long moment, well aware of ears perking nearby, and found no answer that wouldn’t make the situation even worse. Let her make her own damn mistakes, then; maybe she’d grasp her ignorance before she landed in an ugly mess.
    “I’ll be over there,” he said at last, nodding to a pillar a few feet away. “Just glance over if you need me.”
    Leaning against the pillar, admonishing himself to wait patiently, he watched the crowd descend upon her, swirling her away. Her bright laughter rang out across the room.
    Nobody came to talk to him; and nobody glanced his way, not even once.

Chapter S i x
     
    Thankfully, Deiq remained quiet for the rest of the evening. Even through dinner, sitting next to her with his dark gaze moving around the table, he said little to nothing. Nobody else seemed particularly interested in speaking to him, either; by the end of the meal, Alyea felt a reluctant sense of guilt over ignoring him for so long.
    As the last plates were cleared away, and coffee trays were wheeled in, she turned her smile his way and said, lightly, “I think I’ll skip the coffee this time.”
    He regarded her with a strange expression and said, “Probably a good idea.”
    A servant placed small cups in front of them. Alyea quickly turned hers upside-down, offering the servant a regretful smile. He nodded and poured steaming black liquid into Deiq’s cup, then moved on. A moment later, another servant placed a full cup of a liquid almost as black in front of Alyea, removing the upside-down cup.
    She regarded the drink with caution, then glanced at Deiq for help. He was smiling: but it was a strange, dark expression that shifted his lean face into starker planes.
    “It’s tea,” he said quietly. “From the smell, I’m guessing F’Heing red bush, prepared thopuh style.”
    “Very good,” Lord Ondio F’Heing said from across the table. His smile reminded Alyea of a cat about to pounce on something small. The severe cut and dark colors of his clothing heightened the menace of his expression. “Do you know