Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,15

you.” Then she looked up at Tancho and Crow. “Please follow me.” Without another word, she turned and strode out of the hall. Karasu moved to follow on her heels, but Tancho held her arm, allowing Crow and his friend to go first.

“I’d rather not have him at my back,” Tancho whispered. He gave them a few yards start, then fell into step, the remaining elders at the tail. They walked along a sandstone corridor with filtered sunlight, and soon enough, Adelais passed a large opening and Tancho could hear laughter coming from outside.

They came to a wide set of stone steps, which led the way down to what had to be the courtyard. And there, in mock battle, were Elmwood and Samiel. Elmwood wore his dark green pants and a leather vest, showing his huge biceps as he swung his axe at Samiel. Samiel wore a red sleeveless tunic overtop umber pants. She held a scimitar to his axe, deflecting and parrying, as graceful as Elmwood was lumbersome. Both of them grinning and laughing, and even their entourages sat looking on highly amused.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting,” Adelais said, her yellow cloak billowing in the breeze. Elmwood and Samiel stopped sparring and lowered their weapons, but they gave both Tancho and Crow curious looks, and Tancho didn’t blame them. They must have felt kept on the outer, and Tancho would have felt disadvantaged if the elders had taken any of them aside for a secret meeting.

“There’s been a development,” Adelais explained. “Something unforeseen, which may change the direction we move forward in. We are, as yet, still awaiting finer details and we cannot start official proceedings until all doubt is removed.”

“A development?” Samiel asked, her dark eyes as sharp as her blades. She was tall and thin, her rich brown skin and long, dark, braided hair matched perfectly with her red and umber clothes. She was all the colours of the desert sands from which she came, and she was beautiful.

“You witnessed the unusual reaction to their birthmarks last night,” Adelais said, gesturing regally to Tancho and Crow. “Theirs is an ancient connection we are yet to fully decipher. We hope to know more this day, and we shall delay official ceremonies until then.”

“We can still fight, yes?” Elmwood asked. He was a strange man, Tancho thought. More in his element here than anyone else, it would seem. He was King of the Southlands, lands of forests and jungles, warmer in climate and more prone to rain. He wore shades of dark green leather, his brown hair was artfully dishevelled, appearing almost like tree roots. His arms were the size of tree trunks, and his eyes and smile had the air of a satyr or the forest elves Tancho had read about in their histories. He liked Elmwood with barely a word uttered between them.

Then Tancho reconsidered his earlier assessment of Elmwood being more in his element than any other leader. Yes, Elmwood was very much an embodiment of his land, his people, but Samiel was that too. And perhaps Tancho was indicative of his lands and his people; he was named after a fish, after all. Sleek and quiet, tranquil, but powerful too.

And what of Crow?

His black hair shone in the sunlight, his black cloak danced in the breeze as a bird’s wing. His eyes were as sharp as a bird of prey, Tancho allowed. And when they’d drawn weapons on each other in the grand hall, neither of them had given an inch, and Tancho liked that. In fact, he liked squaring off against Crow more than he ought to.

And much to Tancho’s surprise, he found it as arousing as it was thrilling. Perhaps it was the adrenaline and the heightened senses from their near fight . . .

“I think we shall,” Adelais said.

Shall what?

Tancho had been so lost in his own thoughts, he’d lost track of conversation.

“I think exhibition sparring sounds fun,” Adelais furthered. “Exhibition only, no blood drawn. Any malice or ill-intent will see your position forfeited.” She turned to Crow and Tancho. “Perhaps you two should not engage?”

Crow smiled at Tancho, that conceited smirk that Tancho wanted to wipe from his face. That fire in his gaze that Tancho wanted to see more of when they fought, when they fucked.

Wait.

What?

Crow unsheathed his sword and swung it, still smirking . . . Oh, those lips . . . Tancho shook his head.

“What’s the matter, little fish?” Crow asked. “Too scared to spar with me?”

Before he