How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) by Nicole René

she intended.
    She quickly cast her eyes down to her hands, worried she offended him. She didn’t know much about the Izayges men, but if they were anything like her husband, they wouldn’t appreciate her tone.
    “Easy now, I only came to bring your meal.” The man held up the small bowl in his hand as proof. “No need to kill the server.” He chuckled, placing the bowl in her hands.
    At Leawyn’s look of surprise, the man chuckled again, his teeth showing as he gave her an attractive smile.
    “Don’t look so surprised, ‘tis not like we want to starve you.”
    “I know that! It’s just—” Leawyn flushed in embarrassment. “I was afraid I offended you.”
    Leawyn blinked when the man let out a booming laugh.
    “I have no reason to be offended of a girl asking for a name to an unfamiliar man, now have I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with humor.
    “Well, when you say it like that . . .” Leawyn mumbled. “Yet, you still fail to answer the question,” she said when she got a hold of her embarrassment.
    “Ah, you’d be correct! Tyronian, at your service!” Tyronian bowed down mockingly at her in humor.
    At Leawyn’s small giggle, Tyronian winked.
    Leawyn took a moment to look at Tyronian. He was the only male besides her husband and Tristan she’d had a semi-conversation with.
    Tyronian was tall, but not as tall as Xavier. He was built much like Xavier, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles in both his arms and legs. Leawyn was certain that behind his armor he had a very toned stomach.
    He did not look at all like any of the other Izayges men she caught a glimpse of. In fact, he looked more like her people. Blond hair that stopped just above his shoulders, and sparkling blue eyes. Tyronian was different; Leawyn could tell. He lacked the usual cold indifference most of the Izayges men had, and instead he was warm and welcoming. Already, Leawyn could tell he had a good sense of humor.
    She instantly liked him.
    “Leawyn,” she introduced before taking a small, hesitant sip of the soup in her bowl.
    It was disgusting.
    “I hope you like it. I made it myself.”
    Leawyn quickly stopped herself from spitting the soup back into her bowl.
    “Hmm . . .” Leawyn forced herself to swallow it. “It’s good,” she coughed out, shooting a false reassuring smile at Tyronian. “Just hot.”
    Tyronian beamed at her. “That is because I put a special type of spice in it!”
    “Are you Rhoxolani?” she asked as a way to cover her grimace before she took another sip of the foul soup.
    “No, but you are not the first one to ask.” Tyronian chuckled, pulling up a seat in front of her. “My mother was Siraces, my father Izayges.”
    “Siraces?” Leawyn inquired, puzzled. “I thought the Siraces and the Izayges didn’t get along. Since Lyrical slept with a Siraces man the night of her wedding,” she pointed out unnecessarily.
    “They don’t really, but my father’s brother thought it a good idea. So he arranged for my father to marry the Siraces chief’s daughter.” He paused before he grinned impishly at Leawyn. “Y’know, for tribe unity and all.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I can see the Siraces relation now,” Leawyn said dryly. “You said your ‘father’s brother.’ Was your uncle the chief before?” Leawyn asked, readying herself to take another sip of the soup.
    “He was.” Tyronian nodded in agreement. “But when my father died, his son took over as chief.”
    He was quiet as he watched her take another spoonful of her soup.
    “Xavier is my cousin.”
    This time Leawyn did spit out her soup.
    Tyronian frowned when she went into a coughing fit. He thumped her on the back a couple of times—which almost knocked her off the bed.
    “I’m fine!” Leawyn coughed out, waving his hand away. She took in a deep breath before she looked up at Tyronian with wide eyes.
    “Xavier is your cousin?” Leawyn squeaked out in disbelief.
    Tyronian frowned down at her