The grin didn’t fail him.

She was his.

Laelia Basilius had no calluses on her hands or sunburnt face like the girls he was used to spending time with. When she laughed, it was from pure amusement and not edged in weariness from a hard day of manual labor. She liked Jonas. A lot. And a week later, she wanted to introduce him to her father.

“Come closer,” the chief beckoned as they came into view. He sat before a large bonfire. Several topless girls danced for him until he waved his hand at them dismissively. They moved off to the other side of the campfire.

Sparks from the fire danced in the air. Stars speckled the black velvet sky. The carcass of a goat sat on top of the fire on a spit, roasting for a late dinner. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the cool night air. Laelia tugged at Jonas’s hand. He kept his expression neutral, but he was found he was intimidated. He’d never met the chief before. He’d never known anyone who had. Basilius had been in seclusion for years. So this was the ultimate honor a Paelsian could have and he felt deeply honored to be here, no matter what steps he’d had to take to make this possible.

One thing that had deeply surprised him within the compound was its opulence. While the rest of Paelsia worked endlessly in the vineyards and struggled to find scraps to eat, it seemed that on the other side of the chief’s compound’s walls there were no difficulties at all. Part of him believed dutifully that the chief should be held to a different standard than a common Paelsian—and he was more than entitled to use part of his steep wine tax to make a private home for himself as leader. The other part felt an uneasy ache form in the pit of his stomach over this revelation.

He sank to his knees next to Brion and they both lowered their heads in deference to their leader.

“Rise.” The chief smiled, the darkly tanned skin at the corners of his gray eyes fanning out in dozens of wrinkles. He wore his hair long and some of it near his face in texos, thin braids, which was the traditional hairstyle for men in Paelsia. Jonas had cut his hair when he turned thirteen. Short hair was easier to manage. Brion’s hair was longer but not quite long enough to braid. Since the land had begun to fade, many traditions had started to fade as well.

“Papa,” Laelia purred, running her hand over Jonas’s chest. “Isn’t he pretty? Can I keep him?”

The chief’s lips curved to the side. “Laelia, my beauty. Please give us a chance to talk. I want to get to better know this boy you’re so taken by.”

Her shoulders slumped and she pouted. The chief waved his hand at her in dismissal until she finally retreated to join the other girls at the far side of the fire.

Jonas and Brion exchanged a mutually wary glance.

They were in. Now what?

“Chief, it’s an honor—” Jonas began.

“Are you in love with my daughter?” the chief asked. “Have you come here to ask to be bound to her?”

Someone brought him a plate of food, turkey legs and venison and roasted yams, piled higher than any plate Jonas had ever seen in his life. His family frequently went hungry, and he’d been driven to illegally hunt in another land to keep his loved ones alive, but there was enough food in the chief’s compound to feed his village for months.

A part of him deep down inside turned frosty and brittle at the realization.

Brion jabbed his elbow into Jonas’s arm when he didn’t answer right away.

“Am I in love with your daughter?” Jonas repeated, unsure how to answer this.

“Yes,” Brion hissed under his breath. “Say yes, you idiot.”

But that would be a lie. Jonas couldn’t lie about matters of the heart. He’d tried before and failed miserably. There was a great difference between lust and love.

“I think Laelia is a beautiful girl,” he said instead. “I’ve been very lucky she gives me any attention.”

The chief studied him. “She doesn’t bring many boys here to meet me. You’re only the second.”

“What happened to the first one?” Brion asked.

“He didn’t survive,” the chief said.

Brion’s face fell.

The chief laughed loudly. “I jest. He’s fine. My daughter grew weary of his attentions; that was all. I’m sure he still lives. Somewhere.”

Or maybe Laelia fed him to her snakes, Jonas thought morbidly.

But none of this was why they were here. He wanted to get to the point immediately.

“Chief Basilius, I’m very honored to meet you tonight,” Jonas said. “Because I need to talk to you about something very important.”

“Oh?” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “And you choose my celebration feast to do so?”

“What are you celebrating?”

“A union with an ally. A partnership that will help create a much more prosperous Paelsia in the future.”

This wasn’t expected at all, but was an excellent thing to hear. Jonas’s discomfort at witnessing the expanse of the chief’s comfort eased a little. “I’m glad to hear it. Because that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Basilius nodded, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “Please, say what you came here to say.”

“My brother was killed recently by an Auranian lord. His name was Tomas Agallon.” Jonas’s throat tightened. “It was a sign to me that things have to change. That Paelsia’s current difficulties are not acceptable. I believe Auranos is an evil land filled with devious people. Years ago they tricked us into planting only grapes, so that today they can pay us a pittance for our wine while charging the moon for their crops. Yet they have so many resources, all of which are closed off to us. If we even tread a foot past the border, we risk our very lives. It’s not acceptable.” He took a breath and let it out slowly, gathering his courage. “I’m here to propose an uprising against them, to take what’s theirs and make it ours. It’s time we stopped waiting for things to change on their own.”