Page 45 of Stars in Mist

‘Where are you from?’ he said, watching her indulge in the meal.

She paused her eating, pursing her lips. ‘Why?’

‘You indicated you’re not from these parts. Your accent and looks are unusual. You admitted as much yesterday.’

Élisa took a sharp breath. She didn’t like his line of questioning and was loath to share her hated heritage.

Over the years on the run, she’d attracted much attention for her unusual features. From her silver glowing hair, silver nape feathers, and lilac eyes.

She’d taken to wearing robes to protect her identity and hide away from the unwanted attention she received.

From men wanting a quick turn with her to body traders who promised her riches by peddling her face on holo screens across Pegasi.

She’d rejected them all, fashioned a cloak, hiding herself from their ogling and questions. Over time, she’d become used to being invisible among strangers.

Until now.

With her robe and hood off, Ribau’s eyes on her were disconcerting. He wasn’t creeping on her. Instead, his gaze was almost reverent.

She’d given him no reason to adore her, and his regard annoyed her, yet it also warmed her somehow. After many years, a hot-blooded man saw her, appreciated her, and acknowledged her.

It still irked, so she clicked her tongue in warning, ignoring his question and searching eyes. She had to shake him off and focus on doing what was best for her.

He didn’t take offence at her slight. Instead, he leaned back against the fallen tree bark. He pulled out his small leather-bound book from his back pocket and engrossed himself in it.

The move was so reminiscent of her old lover that it jolted her.

‘What poem are you reading?’ she found herself asking.

‘An old earth verse of a husband’s praise of his woman,My Inamorata.’

She was drawn in. ‘Share it with me. Please.’

Ribau gave her an enigmatic glance.

His lips turned up at the ends, and he nodded.

Moments later, his voice, low and resonant, filled the hollow.

‘Give me a chair that I may sit down

And serenade my Inamorata,

That I may serenade my wife

Who dispels my grief and heaviness

She stands in the doorway

When I go out to walk and go out on business

She keeps her eyes out for me

When I return from the Khan’s palace

From speaking with the sovereign prince,

I find her waiting

---