The city is busy, as it always is in the morning. Hanun leads me through the streets, the brass plates on his armor shining in the sun. People look at us. He’s not supposed to be in uniform when he’s off duty, but who’s going to stop him? The guards look after their own.
The grocer he takes us to is his favorite. I can smell the food cooking in the back behind the shop as we pass under the awning. Old Menir always switches out the stock in his displays, but the chicken and herbs he sells out of his oven never change. He's from the desert, like we are. He knows some elders from Odun.
“For two,” Hanun says.
He doesn’t need to say anything. Menir hands him the flatbreads, and he passes one to me.
It’s delicious. Yogurt and cucumber mixes with the savory meat.
“You won’t find better than this in the king’s palace.”
Hanun laughs. “Careful who hears that. You’ll be taken away to cook for him!”
“Wouldn’t be the worst fate in the world.”
Menir always reminds me of home. People there knew each other. It’s not like Ehram, where everyone is going about their business with their eyes turned down to watch the sand beneath their feet. He's alive in a way other people here aren't.
Hanun pulls out two coins and pays. They’re more than is due, but it’s worth it.
"You don't have to–"
"I insist."
Hanun's not wrong. If it weren’t for the shrine, Menir's cooking would be the only reason to come to Ehram.
“Guardsman!”
The voice is harsh, an Ehramite voice. It lacks the country lilt or the musicality of us desert people.
Hanun stands at attention. He’s already finished his food. He’s fast when he eats, especially when he's tired. I can see the dark rings around his eyes. But he never disappoints anyone.
The officer has a blue sash. That means something, but I don’t know what. He speaks with such force that it’s impossible to argue with him. “We need more men in the Glassmakers’ Quarter.”
Hanun nods. “Understood, sir. I will head there at once.”
He turns to me and kisses my forehead. “Stay safe, Zefra. If there was a vandal at the shrine last night, he might come back. Keep both eyes open.”
“You’re the one going to the Glassmakers’ Quarter. I’ll be fine.”
He turns away and walks into the crowd. Even with his uniform, it doesn’t take long before I can’t see him anymore. My heart sinks. We had so little time together, and he'd just gotten off-shift.
“Zefra?”
I turn to Menir. “Yeah?”
“Is everything all right?”
“I’m just tired. Someone broke the altars last night.”
“That’s a problem, isn’t it?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to do about it. They weren’t desecrated in any other way. I’m just going to have a mason carve new ones.”
“But that’s not what’s bothering you.”
“Ever since moving here, Hanun hasn’t had any time for me.”
“He’s doing his service for the king.”
“I know, but couldn’t someone else have? We’re betrothed. We should have married a year ago, except we’re so far from home.”
Menir hands me a cup. There’s dark tea inside, the sort they grow up in the mountains.
I drink. It has a richness to it, and it makes me feel better.
“Thanks.”
“You need it, right? Haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Yeah.”
“Noisy neighbors?”
I shake my head. “A dream.”
He knows that if I wanted to say more I’d have said more. “Well, I can’t do anything about that. But if the neighbors act up, let me know.”
There’s a playfulness in how he says it, but I know he’d do something if I asked him to.
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