The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 52

Being a fifth wheel was such fun.

No, really. Chad had never found anything more interesting than sitting on a bench with a cup of goat's milk, listening to the jiving tune the minstrels were playing on their odd stringed instruments and watching the locals dance like they had wings on their feet. Now and then he'd catch a glimpse of Nyle and Lillian caught in the midst, laughing and trying to keep up with the music. They stood out starkly with their light skin, and Lillian's dress fluttered around her in a whorl of earthy shades as she twirled.

A pounding headache throbbed at Chad's temples, in time with his pulse and the heartbeat of the music. It was too loud, too bright at this party. And while he was happy to see his companions enjoying the festivities so much, he would've preferred the peace and quiet of everyday life around the city to the overwhelming colors and motion there was tonight, with the blazing torches and miniature lanterns hung everywhere. Too much, too gaudy, too many people. He would've rather been training with Craventi. But he owed this to his friends. So he stayed.

"Enjoying your cow juice?"

"Goat juice," he mumbled into his cup without looking at the person beside him. It sounded like a girl, her voice shot through with a strange accent. Swallowing the rest of the milk with a grimace, he set his cup on the ground in front of him and rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the ache. "They don't have cows here."

"That's ridiculous," came the reply. "Fine. Enjoying your goat juice?"

"No." Closing his eyes, Chad leaned over on his knees and put his head in his hands as pain drove another stake through his skull. "It's gross."

The girl poked him in the shoulder. "Hey, you don't look so good. Wanna do something? It'll get your blood flowing better."

"Like what?" Chad mumbled. "Dancing?"

The girl clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "Yes, but not this kind of dancing. I have a better idea."

Chad gave her a doubting look, caught off guard not only by how young she was, but by the rich golden tones of her skin and the way her features were ever so slightly different than even the locals. When she smiled, her eyes came alive, catching fire from the torches and kindling mischief to rival Sam's.

"C'mon," she said. "I'll show you."

***

"I'm...I'm not sure about this."

The girl—Dria, as she'd introduced herself on the way—cracked a grin that was a little crazy and stepped up on the balance beam, her honey-brown eyes glittering with excitement. She'd been that way back on the bench, too, so full of energy she hadn't stopped tapping her nails on the wood until he'd asked her twice. Then she'd tapped them on her knee. That hadn't been much better. He'd finally agreed to go with her to make her stop.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," she said with a laugh as he weighed the broadsword she'd pressed into his sweaty hand. She had one too, absently flipping it blade to hilt and back again without even looking. Chad kept waiting for her to slip up and cut herself, but it never happened. It was like the sword was just another limb to her, easily controlled and monitored without thinking.

Shooting her a skeptical glance, he took in the caramel-colored skin, the chin-length, wavy black hair, and the plain clothing that didn't do much to hide how wiry and strong she was. She was still watching him with those eyes, something he couldn't quite place dancing in her irises and tugging at the corners of her mouth. Humor, maybe, at dragging him out into the arena past Crynia and Sam as they left, holding hands and smiling those odd lovers' smiles. Or maybe that was what a predator looked like before she mauled her prey. Who was to know?