(Almera POV)
Arthur always knew how to make the oasis feel smaller.
We walked beneath the shade of date palms along one of the quieter water channels, far from the central terraces where merchants gathered and council messengers hurried about their duties. Here, the sound of flowing water softened everything. It reminded me of summers long past—of courtyards in Constantine where the fountains sang even when the adults argued politics behind closed doors.
"You still wrinkle your nose when the heat gets too thick," Arthur said, amused. "You did that when you were ten."
"I did not," I protested, though my hand went instinctively to my face.
He laughed—a familiar, warm sound that had followed me through years of growing up. "You did. You hated summer lessons. Said the heat made your thoughts melt."
"That's because it did," I said. "I preferred winter libraries."
Arthur smiled at that, eyes soft with memory. "You always did like quiet places."
