Diamond in the Rough - Vivienne Savage Page 0,19

in her ears as adrenaline flooded her veins, but then Rosa heard it.

The roar of a waterfall echoed against the stone head and filled the narrow shaft with cooling mist. Water at last.

8

Desert’s Children

Rosalia had never seen a sight as beautiful as the one before her. Crystalline blue water spilled downward into a magnificent oasis that spread across the section of the canyon. Stratified rock walls stretched toward the sky and reflected gilded sunlight in shining shades of carmine. Greenery climbed the towering walls around the waterfall.

Like a woman possessed, Rosalia immediately rushed toward the spring, torn between drinking first or diving headfirst into the pristine water. In the end, she set her gear aside and began pulling at her clothes.

Xavier blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Xavier? I’m taking a bath. I’m disgusting and grimy and covered in sweat,” she muttered.

He laughed at her. “Are you so sure you want to do that now?”

She paused, fingers on the buckles to her armor. “Why not?”

Xavier smiled. “Because we’re downwind of a settlement. I smell people, and if we’re fortunate for once, they’ll be the people we’re looking for.”

And if they weren’t, it could possibly be a fight. The unspoken meaning that now wouldn’t be the ideal time to be caught with their pants down hung in his words. He didn’t say it, but she felt it soul-deep, as if the thought materialized in her mind.

Were they sharing thoughts?

Rather than continue to wonder if her powers were evolving, Rosalia dismissed the incident and cast a longing gaze back toward the shimmering water. She would have given anything to dive in headfirst and wash away the sweat and grime that had accumulated over the last few days. Instead, she settled for dipping her arms deep into the water before cupping her hands so she could drink greedily. Xavier joined her for a short time, the pair of them taking a moment to wash off their faces in preparation to meet the villagers ahead.

Rosa would return to take a long soak, that she was positive of. Every inch of the clear running water appeared as delightful as the steaming hot spring of Xavier’s hoard.

The village was only a short walk from there, and the noise reached them before the actual structures came into view. Whatever she’d expected of a distant desert village cut off from the rest of the world, what greeted them far surpassed her wildest imaginings.

Due to the close proximity of the river, grass grew in thick abundance on fertile land. Elaborate multi-level adobe homes lined the bank of the oasis, neatly spaced in a spiral-like formation with worn trails weaving between them leading to different sections of the village. No two homes appeared alike, but all were decorated with engravings and etchings in the clay. Some had been studded with colorful gemstones.

At the village center, fragrant tendrils of smoke wafted skyward from the remains of a large bonfire and still released a sweet scent of incense and resin. Not far beyond it, the community’s spacious layout revealed the high stone walls of a bustling marketplace at the rear of the village.

No one intercepted them with swords or arms, but curious faces watched their approach. Were they traveling to some cities within Saudonia, guardsmen would have barred their access if they failed to identify themselves or state their purpose.

An older man paused in manicuring his yard with a long scythe to smile at them. His eyes gleamed gold and bright with their own light in a deeply tanned face weathered from a lifetime under the sun. Rosalia couldn’t help but smile back.

Along the way, children splashed in the shallows of the banks of the oasis, their laughter ringing through the air as the adults went about their day-to-day business. One by one the villagers noticed their presence, a hush falling over them as they paused to stare.

A young woman broke away from two others, abruptly ending their conversation as she headed toward Xavier and Rosalia, purpose screaming in her every movement. She stopped a few paces in front of them, brushing wild curls out of her face and smiling as brightly as the sun that shone down on the canyon. The ribbons of her scarlet and sapphire skirt blew behind her in the wind as silken streamers.

“Greetings. Grandmother is expecting you.” Though she spoke Rosalia’s language, her thick accent led her to think the tribe spoke a language of their own. “But maybe I