Remounted as lightly as a butterfly, she beamed down at Habrunt, and then looked up and swept the narrow, jam-packed street a fleeting glance. Then she flicked her reins and kicked her heels in lightly with a hand-slap on her horse's neck.
The black charger responded instantly, and surged forward in a hurtling motion of buried muscle as she cantered him down the narrow street past the noisome throngs. His hooves clomp-clopped the ground in a heavy rhythm as she caught up to her proper position in the royal procession and slowed to rejoin them again.
She could not stop herself breathing heavily as her heart continued to pound. The memory of his scent and the lingering sensation of his kisses had sent her blood to singing.
* * *
It was a grand procession. Every so often, Emperor Euphrates would cast a handful of gold coins to the crowds, and their cheering would be transformed to lunatic crescendos as the throngs dived together in a sudden concerted rush to get at the coveted coins.
There were people with grievous impairments and afflictions at every hand, and they were also caught up in the mad scramble for coins. Some of them were trampled shamelessly by those more able, who should have known not to be so abusive and unfair.
Si'Wren was aware of all this, yet, brushing tears from her eyes, she could not help looking back in the direction of Habrunt. But she could not pick him out now, although she knew he was still there, sitting with the elders in the gates of the city.
How her heart yearned to see him again—and soon!
Then her eyes noticed something, and she looked far to the rear of the long line of the procession. There, far behind her, she saw a boisterous crowd of evil men, bringing up the rear behind the long lines of battle-hardened camel soldiers.
What were they doing there, she wondered?