Touraine looked disinterested as she picked it up, but she handed it to Luca so gingerly that Luca knew the disinterest was affectation. There were two books, a worn old Shālan primer like the one Luca had used as a child—probably as old—and a slim book that, upon closer inspection, was full of poems. The first poem appeared to be about water—“We pray for rain,” the first line read. A reasonable subject for a desert poet.
“But you can’t read these.”
“He—er, the bookseller picked it out for me. Said to read them when I learned enough.” Touraine’s chin dipped toward her chest.
She seemed embarrassed and nervous. Vulnerable in a way Luca hadn’t expected to see her.
“Do you want to learn?” Luca asked softly.
“No, Your Highness. He just gave them to me.”
Luca gave it a moment, wondering if Touraine would change her mind. When she didn’t, Luca let it be and gave the books back before easing deeper into the chaise.
Touraine stood to leave. She hesitated. “Your Highness, I had one more question. Could I take a day of leave tomorrow?”
“For what?” Luca asked, surprised.
“I—”
“Never mind.” Luca realized too late that her question, however innocent, wouldn’t come across that way. “You don’t need to account for it. You can take the day.”
CHAPTER 16
ANOTHER BROADSIDE
Judging by the sun, it was late when Touraine woke the next morning. Guérin and Lanquette were already gone. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered Guérin’s bleary curiosity when Touraine had stumbled into their bedroom near dawn after the ball.
She dressed and pulled the books she’d gotten from Sa?d out of their hiding place and left for the city without looking to see if Luca had woken up. She’d learned the hard way not to waste a day of leave, and she suspected that the talks with the rebels were going to mean few restful days to come.
Touraine wandered the sun-bright streets leisurely, still avoiding people’s eyes, Qazāli and Balladairan alike. In the daylight, it was easy to see how varied the city actually was. For every Qazāli with loose dark hair, there was another with skin Brigāni dark, even though their eyes were brown, not gold. She even saw a woman who was blond enough to be a Balladairan—Touraine thought she was, until she snapped back at a merchant in rapid-fire Shālan. It was the Sands writ large—all of them had been taken from all over the Shālan Empire, from Qazāl to Masridān to Lunāb, but not all of them looked the same.
She thought of the stormy oceans in Pruett’s eyes. She needed to see if Pruett was all right.
Touraine was relieved to spot Noé standing at attention outside the guardhouse. The thought of going inside, being surrounded by other Sands, made her shoulders tense up. This is my squad, she tried to tell herself. These are my people.
Noé snapped her a salute and smiled. Then, when she got close enough, he wrapped her in a quick hug. The embrace reminded her how delicate he had always been and how surprising it was that he had made it as a soldier. Like all of them, though, he’d found his ways to survive.
“It’s good to see you, Lieutenant,” Noé said, his voice as sweet and clear as ever. A wave of longing almost pulled her under. She’d missed him.
“It’s good to see you, too. Are Tibeau and Pruett around?”
He nodded behind him, toward the guardhouse. “Beau’s inside, but Pru is out. Don’t know where or how long.” He shrugged apologetically.
Touraine clapped him on the shoulder and headed inside.
“Oh, and, Lieutenant?”
Touraine turned back to Noé.
“Rogan’s gone for now, too.”
That, at least, was a true relief. She wasn’t ready to face him yet, not after the disaster at Luca’s ball.
She found Tibeau in the courtyard of the riad-turned-guardhouse. Its fountain was still dry and now draped indecorously with the shirts of a couple Sands sparring on the dusty tiles. One of them was Tibeau, sweat streaming down his big hairy belly. He noticed her first. His opponent took advantage of his distraction and cramped his leg with a kick.
He roared as he fell, his injured leg curled and spasming. “Sky above, Aimée, you are such an asshole!”
Touraine chuckled. At least some things didn’t change.
“And what are you doing here, oh esteemed—what are you now, exactly?” Aimée gave Tibeau a hand up, but she was talking to Touraine. They both looked curiously at her and the package in her hand.