Reign of Darkness (The Prince's Assassin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,43

ocean-going thieves and merchants?”

He laughed at that. “They’re practically royalty.”

Niko had been happy with the way things were before Amir had revealed his pah might not be his pah at all. Everything since then had gotten complicated. “And where were the Yazdans during the war?”

Yasir sighed. “Your mother never told you any of this?”

“When I returned from the front, she was gone.”

Yasir frowned and straightened the creases in his gown. “Seran stayed out of the war until the last few years. We held the oceanfront. Elves aren’t fond of big bodies of water, but that didn’t stop them from launching their crude fire ships and seeding assassin boats among us. The Yazdans lost half their fleet. They built more, but it was like trying to plug a sieve with your fingers. Too many elves got through. The Seranians, armed by Yazdan weapons, held them at the harbor, but not without losses.”

“Have the elves returned since?”

“We haven’t seen hide nor hair of an elf since King Talos negotiated peace.”

That would change. And soon, with Amir on the throne. The moment the elves sensed weakness, they’d strike. If they hadn’t struck Loreen already. Gods, Niko needed to focus on what needed to be done and not let Seran seduce him into thinking the world was a safe place. He’d need to keep Vasili focused too. The prince had taken to Seran like a snake shedding its old skin for a shiny new one. Prying him out of Seran and encouraging him to return to Loreen could be difficult.

The carriage rocked to a halt outside an enormous house carved from a cliff-face of red rock. A fountain burbled in the sunken center with the buildings built around a main courtyard, as though the central garden were an outdoor royal court. The only thing Niko could compare to its lavish splendor was the Caville palace gardens. But the colors here exploded. The water glowed green, the house blazed red, and enormous tropical plants sprouted out of the earth.

Yasir strode inside, passing the guards who nodded, clearly recognizing him. Niko stuck close by, trying not to stare open-mouthed at the circus of people and noise and light. People milled through columned walkways, chatting and laughing, dressed in their fine silks. An army of servers offered wine and food.

Gods, it was another world, a fantasy one, where the war and the dark flame didn’t exist. To think of how madness and bloodshed had underpinned the Caville palace and spilled into Loreen’s streets, and yet here, in Seran, life was untouched by darkness.

What a life to live.

Yasir introduced Lycus to various businessmen and women of Seran, all of whom Niko politely greeted, emulating how Lady Maria had gracefully moved about the Caville crowd. He could play at being a lord, especially as he’d inherited Mah’s Seranian looks. The crowd here assumed he was one of them, and he was happy to let them believe those assumptions.

Yasir found a group of seafaring folks and easily fell into their conversation while Niko sipped his wine and scanned the crowd. Yasir had pointed out a few of the Yazdan children, all older than Niko, probably aunts and uncles.

A striking woman caught his eye as she broke from the hubbub and approached. A silk sash swished at her hips, and her unruly mahogany hair was barely restrained by a tight braid. Rogue curls spilled free. Red-painted lips matched the full, long red shirt. Bangles adorned her wrists, jewels twinkled at her ears, and pearl-inlaid pistols decorated both hips. “Captain Lajani!” she boomed, making Yasir splutter his wine. “Where the devil are my silks?”

“Roksana.” Yasir grinned and flicked spilled wine from his fingers. His friends quickly made themselves scarce. “I had some trouble on the route down from the north.” Her mouth twisted, and Yasir adjusted, piling on the charm. “Of course you’ll get your silks.”

She huffed and finally noticed Niko. “Who’s this? New paramour?”

“Ah, no.” Yasir laughed nervously. “Lycus is a friend of mine. From the north. Lycus, I have the pleasure of introducing Roksana Yazdan.”

Ah, the infamous privateer. Roksana’s dark eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Well met, Lycus. You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“My lady,” Niko carefully matched his smile to hers. “I can’t imagine where.”

She narrowed her eyes and nodded knowingly, then offered her hand. Niko took her fingers and raised them to his lips for a light, respectful kiss. The signet ring caught his eye. Not a griffin, like the Cavilles, but an obsidian flame set into a

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