Diamond in the Rough: a Fantasy Romance (Daughter of Fortune Book 3)

by Vivienne Savage

  “Do you mean that?” Xavier’s voice was hoarse, tentative, as if he was scared to push her. She knew there would be no backing out. To deny him this after giving him hope would be the very definition of cruel.

  He’d let her. He’d forgive her if she changed her mind. Rosalia wasn’t so sure that she’d forgive herself, however—not if she gave him false hope.

  “Yes, I am.”

  It was a promise she didn’t intend to break and would fight viciously to keep.

  Wind tugged gently at their clothes, a whisper of urgency accompanying the bite of chills that followed and yet the warmth in Rosalia’s stomach exploded into an inferno when he pulled her close, catching her mouth with his own in one fluid motion. The kiss was short and filled with passion, neither caring for the tiny grains of sand that danced around them before they pulled apart.

  The remainder of the night’s journey passed in a happy haze for Rosalia, though the farther they traveled the more her exhaustion caught up with her. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d had a decent night's rest—a truly decent night without interruptions, worries, or stress awaiting her in the morning—and though she didn’t expect to gain such a thing in the desert of all places, the idea of attempting to sleep was more than a little welcome.

  As her eyelids drooped and her head nodded, Rosa nearly collided with Xavier’s back. She hadn’t even heard him stop.

  “This is perfect,” he breathed, sounding as tired as she felt. “I didn’t think I’d ever see one of these again.” There was a touch of awe in his tone that was puzzling to her sleep-addled brain until she stumbled around him and blinked languidly at the sight before them.

  Half buried in the sand several meters in front of the pair was the decrepit husk of an ancient ship. The vessel had seen many a sandstorm, its wood battered in more places than not, teal paint faded by time and the sun until mere hints of color remained. A man-sized hole led into what remained of the hull, offering the ideal shadowy nook for resting away from the sun that was just beginning to peek over the horizon.

  “Desert pirates.” Rosa felt a little more awake with the sudden discovery. She hadn’t thought she’d see one of these ships anywhere other than a book. The history of the pirates was short yet fascinating all the same. They had practically ruled the desert just as their aquatic counterparts ruled the sea, they had an extensive trade route set up along with the networks for a black market all made possible by their impressive ships designed to travel across the desert sands with the aid of a little wind enhanced by magic.

  They had been an impressive group of people, dedicated to exploring the deserts and practicing their trade more so than fighting amongst themselves, then one day they had just vanished. No one knew where they went, or why they left the land they’d called their home. All that had been left in their wake were ships like the one they stood before, scattered across the desert without rhyme or reason.

  “We can rest here until the sun sets; we’ll wait out the worst of the heat,” Xavier said, leading Rosalia toward the abandoned ship.

  “You’re a dragon. Does heat even bother you?”

  “No.”

  “And I’m half-djinn. That means I can keep going.”

  “Far from it. It means until you are more in control of your gifts and in touch with that side of your heritage, you are subject to the whims of your magic. Maybe you will be unharmed.” He leveled his gaze on her in a laser-focused stare that told her his next words left no room for argument. “Maybe you will collapse from heat sickness, as your body masks the harm caused by the sun.”

  Blast. She hated when he was right.

  Xavier paused once more, right before they entered the hull, eyes set on the shrub of multicolored flowers that brushed against the faded wood. Purple petals with a dull lilac glow bobbed in the passing breeze as if they were waving at them.

  “Condea emoryi, desert lavender,” he said, eyes lighting up.

  “What?” Rosa mumbled, rubbing at the corner of one of her eyes sleepily. The thrill of seeing the ship was already gone, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

  “They say their glow will lead travelers to what they seek. We’re on the right path.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling immensely witty as her battle with sleep began to fail. “Brilliant.”

  Xavier snorted in amusement before tugging her inside the hull. It was obvious many travelers used the forgotten ship as a resting place, and he noted there was a dusty blanket spread across what appeared to be a half-dug hole in the ground. Clearly whoever made the makeshift bed was trying to stay as cool as possible in the dry desert heat, attempting to surround their place of rest in the shaded area with cool sand. It looked like the perfect spot to take a nap.

  In the opposite, far end of the hull was what appeared to be a small shrine to the lost people, a way for travelers to offer thanks for the refuge that had been left behind for them. It seemed it was almost customary to leave something in tribute and in turn they likely asked for safe travels through the foreign land. Rosalia groggily made note to remind Xavier to leave something before they left as she shrugged off her bag and crawled into the bed, happy to curl around her lover when he joined her.

  Exhaustion finally successfully ensnared the woman as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, content to inhale the smoky oak and leather scent that seemed to be imprinted upon his skin. Strong arms surrounded Rosa, pulling her close.

  “I adore you, Rosalia,” he whispered into her hair, but sleep had already dragged her down too far into the abyss to reply.

  The next day was no easier, and they did not have the luck or the blessings from the gods to come across another way station. They escaped the heat that next early morning by cowering beneath wind-battered rock formations worn smooth and polished by the sand to a satin finish.

  By the fifth day, Rosalia wondered if she would ever have the comfort of a bed again, or if she’d wander to her death in the dunes.

  The day after that, they found nothing at all, and she took shelter beneath the lumbering form of the giant dragon instead, though Xavier radiated so much heat the only benefit was that the sun no longer blazed against her skin. His ragged breathing kept her awake, a reminder that contrary to his words, he had yet to recuperate completely from his ordeal. He masked it better while in his elven form. The desert stretched an infinite distance and their supplies ran dangerously low.

  Only a day’s worth of water remained, and that was generous—it assumed Xavier took none for himself.

  “What’s on your mind?” Xavier asked as they wandered under the widening moon. A star-filled sky glittered above them.

  “Hm?”

  “Your expression,” he said. “You appeared to be in deep thought.”

  “I was thinking of what I’d give to have a bath right now.”

  He chuckled. “And only that?”

  Far more than a bath weighed on her mind, but she didn’t want to admit that she’d spent the last hour thinking of death and the likelihood of the elemental wraiths discovering them before they found the tribe.

  “Maybe I was thinking about where we’d go when this was all said and done,” she said instead, infusing a lightheartedness into her voice she hadn’t been feeling. When Xavier cocked one dubious brow, she smiled. “And…the treehouse I bought.”

  “What?” He blinked at her, thoroughly distracted from her morose mood.

  “I bought a house,” she chirped lightly. “Nemuria sold it to me a few hours before the dive from the cliffside.”

  Telling Xavier about the arboreal home was the very distraction she needed from the dark and dismal worries plaguing her mind. He listened without judgment as she described the previous homeowner and took no offense to her desires to live among people in the thick of the city.

  “You’re not upset that I want a primary residence in Valanya?” Instead of the hoard designed by your ancestors and furnished by the parents you clearly loved?

&n
bsp; “No. Not at all. I have numerous homes, Rosalia. Why shouldn’t you?”

  They spent a while longer in idle discussion to pass the time, each word laced with hope and promise. Rosalia viewed it as a gilded light at the end of the tunnel.

  Much later, during the darkest hours of the night, the landscape shifted from sand dunes to rising rock formations. The trail narrowed until they could no longer walk side by side, and split into four different pathways. They may as well have been identical, none standing distinct from the others apart from the spindly branches of an overgrown smokethorn dalea tree partially obscuring one path. Then she saw it.

  Though they were nearly concealed by the dalea, sprigs of desert lavender gave a muted glow. The longer she gazed upon them, the brighter they appeared, illuminating the barren trunk and reaching for the stars.

  “That’s our path,” she breathed, easing in close against Xavier.

  Perhaps there was more to it than that though, because there was a subtle pull from behind Rosalia’s navel, a gut-deep sensation as something called out to the spark residing within her, something that felt a lot like magic. She was just as exhausted as she had been that first night, if not more so now that they’d been traveling in the desert for nearly a week, but now she understood the awe in Xavier's face as he gazed at the magical flowers that silently begged to show them the way.

  “This is the way,” Xavier said needlessly, and onward they went.

  The sun climbed in the midmorning sky. The sound of sunbaked sand crunching beneath their feet and the distant cry of a fire hawk were the only break in the silence that had fallen over the traveling pair. Thankfully, the canyon provided the perfect amount of shade, though it was likely to be miserable at the inescapable hour of high noon. Xavier had offered to transform and allow her onto his back to cover more ground, but she insisted he rest more instead.

  Rosalia stumbled, nearly falling over only to catch herself at the last moment against Xavier’s back. The pair tumbled down to the ground, the fall cushioned by hot sand or, in Rosa’s case, a hot man.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled into his back, shoving weakly off him to roll to the side so they lay beside one another. Briefly they’d entertained the idea of stopping to rest when the sun first began to rise, but the magic that accompanied the blooming flowers urged them onwards. The magical blossoms littered the trail, an endless sea of lilac beacons.

  Where there were flowers, there had to be water to replenish their waterskins. They needed it desperately, especially after Rosalia forced Xavier to split what remained with her the previous day. He’d wanted to be noble and selfless, but she wouldn’t hear it.

  The wind whispered an ancient hymn in a desert language neither Xavier nor Rosalia understood, but they felt reverberating in their bones nonetheless.

  Or, she was delirious with heat sickness and her feverish fantasies saw something that wasn’t there.

  Xavier barked out a laugh, voice hoarse and throat dry, and not for the first time she was thankful he hadn’t allowed her to take this journey alone.

  “We’re nearly there,” he said, the words sounded hollow, having lost their meaning around day three. He pushed upright with strength she couldn’t quite fathom in that moment. Days ago, he’d been at death’s door. The dry, arid weather seemed to have rejuvenated him day by day after all. “Can you go on?”

  I don’t have much of a choice, Rosalia wanted to say. Instead she let out a grunt as she rolled around and used one of the rock walls that surrounded them to struggle into an upright position.

  “I want ice cream,” she mumbled, puffing out a sharp breath to blow the loose strands of hair that had fallen over her face away. It didn’t move, clinging against her perspiring forehead and tickling her cheeks.

  “I’ll buy you an ice cream shop when this is over.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She laughed feebly, and they pressed onwards. “You still owe me a fancy clock. I think you need to make good on that promise first.”

  Xavier let out another dry laugh, eyes twinkling in adoration as he gazed down at her before he suddenly froze. Rosalia stopped short as well, a fresh dose of panic shooting down her spine as amusement slid off his face and was replaced with something unreadable.

  “What?”

  “Do you hear that?”

  “What?”

  Anxiety mounting, the last thing she expected of him in that moment was to snatch her hand and break into a dead sprint forward down the path. A surprised yelp escaped her as he tugged her onwards, the sudden surprise pushing enough energy through Rosalia that she could keep up with her lover and his dedicated mad dash.

  They took a sharp turn and he abruptly came to a stop, making her collide with his back for the second time that day. It took her a moment, her heart was pounding in her ears as adrenaline flooded her veins, but then Rosa heard it.

  The roar of a waterfall echoed against the stone head and filled the narrow shaft with cooling mist. Water at last.

  8

  Desert’s Children

  Rosalia had never seen a sight as beautiful as the one before her. Crystalline blue water spilled downward into a magnificent oasis that spread across the section of the canyon. Stratified rock walls stretched toward the sky and reflected gilded sunlight in shining shades of carmine. Greenery climbed the towering walls around the waterfall.

  Like a woman possessed, Rosalia immediately rushed toward the spring, torn between drinking first or diving headfirst into the pristine water. In the end, she set her gear aside and began pulling at her clothes.

  Xavier blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing, Xavier? I’m taking a bath. I’m disgusting and grimy and covered in sweat,” she muttered.

  He laughed at her. “Are you so sure you want to do that now?”

  She paused, fingers on the buckles to her armor. “Why not?”

  Xavier smiled. “Because we’re downwind of a settlement. I smell people, and if we’re fortunate for once, they’ll be the people we’re looking for.”

  And if they weren’t, it could possibly be a fight. The unspoken meaning that now wouldn’t be the ideal time to be caught with their pants down hung in his words. He didn’t say it, but she felt it soul-deep, as if the thought materialized in her mind.

  Were they sharing thoughts?

  Rather than continue to wonder if her powers were evolving, Rosalia dismissed the incident and cast a longing gaze back toward the shimmering water. She would have given anything to dive in headfirst and wash away the sweat and grime that had accumulated over the last few days. Instead, she settled for dipping her arms deep into the water before cupping her hands so she could drink greedily. Xavier joined her for a short time, the pair of them taking a moment to wash off their faces in preparation to meet the villagers ahead.

  Rosa would return to take a long soak, that she was positive of. Every inch of the clear running water appeared as delightful as the steaming hot spring of Xavier’s hoard.

  The village was only a short walk from there, and the noise reached them before the actual structures came into view. Whatever she’d expected of a distant desert village cut off from the rest of the world, what greeted them far surpassed her wildest imaginings.

  Due to the close proximity of the river, grass grew in thick abundance on fertile land. Elaborate multi-level adobe homes lined the bank of the oasis, neatly spaced in a spiral-like formation with worn trails weaving between them leading to different sections of the village. No two homes appeared alike, but all were decorated with engravings and etchings in the clay. Some had been studded with colorful gemstones.

  At the village center, fragrant tendrils of smoke wafted skyward from the remains of a large bonfire and still released a sweet scent of incense and resin. Not far beyond it, the community’s spacious layout revealed the high stone walls of a bustling marketplace at the rear of the village.

  No one intercepted them with swords or arms, but curio
us faces watched their approach. Were they traveling to some cities within Saudonia, guardsmen would have barred their access if they failed to identify themselves or state their purpose.

  An older man paused in manicuring his yard with a long scythe to smile at them. His eyes gleamed gold and bright with their own light in a deeply tanned face weathered from a lifetime under the sun. Rosalia couldn’t help but smile back.

  Along the way, children splashed in the shallows of the banks of the oasis, their laughter ringing through the air as the adults went about their day-to-day business. One by one the villagers noticed their presence, a hush falling over them as they paused to stare.

  A young woman broke away from two others, abruptly ending their conversation as she headed toward Xavier and Rosalia, purpose screaming in her every movement. She stopped a few paces in front of them, brushing wild curls out of her face and smiling as brightly as the sun that shone down on the canyon. The ribbons of her scarlet and sapphire skirt blew behind her in the wind as silken streamers.

  “Greetings. Grandmother is expecting you.” Though she spoke Rosalia’s language, her thick accent led her to think the tribe spoke a language of their own. “But maybe I should take you to wash first. The desert is not kind to those who are unprepared for its perils. Please follow me.”

  Genuine charity glowed on the girl’s features, and a kindness Rosalia rarely encountered in the city. A man ahead of them concealed his laugh with a cough, and she wondered if she’d missed an inside joke between them.

  “How did you know we were coming?” Rosalia and Xavier spoke in unison. As the girl led them onward, the people in the path made way and parted, but no one stared or made a scene of the strangers in their midst—aside from a few giggling children trailing harmlessly at their heels.