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“Gods, but it’s hot…”
Even from where she reclined against the side of the House of Splendors, shaded from the oppressive sun, Alisaie felt the droplets of sweat slide down her neck into her jumpsuit. Her companions, those wanted and not, groaned their agreement. She and Krile had stripped off their jackets upon stepping out of the Rising Stones into Mor Dhona’s humidity, while Retsarra chose to go bare-chested. Now, they sat in the shadow of one of the massive purple banners draped in the stagnant air.
Nearby, the Interloper lay sprawled out on the low stone wall overlooking the rest of Revenant’s Toll, hair slicked back with perspiration. “I thought we left the heat behind in Tural,” he complained as he frowned up at the sky. Any other day, Alisaie might have smiled at his discomfort. As it was, it was too damned hot to entertain her one-sided rivalry against him, even if he did look like a wilting sunflower.
A frustratingly beautiful sunflower that had caught the eye of her best friend.
“We should have,” Krile replied with a sigh, saving Alisaie from her angrily flustered thoughts. She loosened her hair from its ponytail only to tie it up in a bun instead. “‘Tis unseasonably warm for this time of year.”
“But then anything would feel hot after our time in Garlemald,” Alisaie groused, contrary just for the sake of it. The heat was getting to her, turning her even more sour beneath the weight of Retsarra’s presence. “Shouldn’t you be used to this kind of weather? You grew up in a desert.”
The bastard smiled in response, seemingly unperturbed by her aggressive tone. “The perpetual storms made it more humid, to be sure, but Old Yyasulani’s heat is far drier,” he explained evenly. “Anyway, after living inside Everkeep for four years, I grew accustomed to a milder climate.”
“What I wouldn’t give for that milder climate now,” Krile added, accompanied by a thoughtful hum from Retsarra. The smaller woman fanned herself ineffectually with her hands. “If only I could cast some ice magic…though I fear my mastery over pictomancy isn’t quite precise enough not to risk it freezing the whole marketplace solid.”
“Right now, that only sounds like an improvement.”
“Can’t you cast some with your red magicks?” Retsarra asked, glancing at her. She bit her lip as her brows furrowed, loath to admit to him of all people that it was beyond her. “Ah. Well, I suppose we can wait for Andhris and Raha to return.”
The casual way he referred to her dearest friends made her grind her teeth, only stopping when Krile shot her a look of concern. She wanted to shove him off the wall. To shout at him to leave them alone. Yet E’andhris was the one who had brought him across the salt with him, and G’raha seemed content with their arrangement. Still, she couldn’t quell the protective swell within her breast from rising.
“I have an idea,” she announced suddenly, unfurling her legs as she climbed to her feet. She closed the short distance to the swordman’s side, ignoring the way his golden skin glistened in the midday sun. It was easier to focus on his imperfections. The way his dark roots had grown long of late, making him look ridiculous and not dashing in the slightest. Not that it stopped E’andhris’ fascination. No, the foolish man seemed to like him all the more for it.
“It’s too hot for magick lessons today,” Retsarra said. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyeing her warily. She waved her hand as she sat beside him on the wall.
“No, nothing like that. I propose a swimming competition while we wait for the others.”
“A dip in the lake would be a welcome respite,” Krile piped up from behind them when it seemed like he’d decline. Retsarra glanced toward the aetheryte with a frown, looking every bit the wolfdog awaiting his master’s return. It made her click her tongue in disapproval.
“Oh, come on. Aren’t you bored, Retsarra? Let’s make a race of it!” Alisaie nudged his shoulder, trying to appeal to his competitive nature.
His ruddy eyes remained firmly fixed on the slowly rotating crystal, though his cheeks warmed from more than just the heat. “I’m not a very strong swimmer,” he admitted at length.
Alisaie laughed. She didn’t mean to, but it barrelled out of her before she could stop it. “You’re like my brother, then,” she said, fonder than she intended. “He’s never been very buoyant either.”
“I can float and paddle around when I need to, but…” the hhetsarro started, defensively, only for his ears to twitch at the far-off yet familiar sound of a bard’s warbling. E’andhris had returned. Retsarra sat up so quickly that he nearly fell off the wall. His painted nails scrabbled at the stone as he steadied himself.
Fool of a boy, Alisaie thought to herself as she watched him launch from the balcony, reminiscent of the way she once had. He tucked forward as he landed, somersaulting into a sprint as he rushed to meet their hero at the plaza. It wasn’t unlike the way G’raha fawned over him naught more than two summers past, she recalled fondly.
Despite herself, she smiled. The more things changed, the more they remained the same.