If only it was ever as simple as it felt at her father’s kitchen table. Along with her mother they left at the end of her allotted time. Taking her threat seriously they hadn’t bothered her for the rest of her trip. As soon as she was off her father’s land though? She and her mother noticed and failed to loose the caravan following them in the distance. And confirmed by allies of her mother the caravan had the royal seal on it.

  She ignored it having no desire to think of anything but getting back home to their swamp. Mesa loved her father’s home, adored being there but she loved being home, being in the rough and tumble and chaos of the swamp. She missed it as much as she missed her father’s home while she was there. Mesa missed the lot of loud, wild—maybe slightly criminal lot that was her peace together side of her family.

  Mesa let out a sound of destress when the first thing she saw arriving home was the barricades up and weapons at the ready and pointed at a different set of large caravans set up like they’d been camped out for a bit. Mesa who was always willing to play the roll of diplomat felt utterly incapable turning to mother.

  “Mother.” Mesa breathed. Her mother started out by gaping then her fury built. She stomped forward and shouted it shaking through the trees.

  “What in the world are you doing in my swamp?” He mother roared. A man who was leaning against one of the caravan’s using a knife to cut some cord twirled the knife sheaving it easily. He walked forward like his roll was called. His voice was gruff as he called to her mother.

  “We heard no response to our request. We wanted to assure that nothing got lost or diverted from your daunting daughter.” Her offered in a compliment that was so obviously geared toward her mother and not her. Her mother saw daunting as needing of respect but Mesa always felt like the term directed toward her as only acknowledging her size. She didn’t feel daunting and didn’t much want to be daunting. Adept was a term she preferred, and she never minded unnerving or formidable because she felt they focused more on her mind, her tone, her gaze.

  People always doubted that she could cut someone down without needing a blade or her fists. She could win a fight never lifting a finger.

  “Sir.” Mesa called his attention away from her mother. “You sent your missive to my mother’s home during a time of year that is wildly known I don’t spend at my mother’s domain. So shouldn’t you have factored that in and accommodated for a delay in my response?” She asked him. His gaze took her in like he saw and could read everything. “Here is my current state of mind on this entire endeavor. I am tired and frustrate. This is my mother’s lands and I have had to deal with an equally persistent convoy of Destronous citizens for a similar reason to your own. I don’t know what the point of this all is and I am really not in the mood to care. But if there is any sign of battle between you and Destronous on my mother’s lands, I will deny the requests from both parties and continue to deny for the rest of my life.” She swore knowing she was crossing over the line of polite with her frustrations. “Now I have a headache and I would like to keep my family from testing their acid supply on you.” Mesa informed as a dismissal.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The man nodded gaze turning up at the piece together gates with interest. He didn’t look a bit concerned but also didn’t look about to argue. Not looking back at her he’d offered in a calm rumbly voice.

  “My name is Igov Ginavi. I promise that this is diplomatic, and we will not be the first to fire and we will attempt not to provoke any conflicts. When you have your answer whether you’ll meet with us simply call for me.” He assured with a turn of the lips which managed to be respectful if a bit dangerous.

  Mesa nodded. Easing a bit just for another man to push his way forward.

  “Igov. Are we really to have a meeting in this waste land. I’m sick and tired of just sitting her in a swamp.” A man of clearly some noble status pushed his way over. Either unaware of ignorant to the audacity of saying that right here. Igov she’d describe in a minute as dangerous and she’d venture to say she didn’t think he was dumb.

  Both men had red hair, dark eyes though not the same color but this man reminded her of a fat bouncing ladybug. Something she could easily and without thought squish under the sole of her shoe. She noted two more that fit the red-haired pattern all dressed like nobles. They were all pretty and fleeting. Once again her mother’s preferences at their finest.

  She looked at Igov whose sharp gaze was set on the Ladybug man. He did not fit the trend of fleeting she decided.

  “I assume that he and those two are most likely choices to this deal and I’m assuming you are the forth?” She asked the man. Igov’s eyes turned to her and he inclined his head in agreement. “Then send him home. If he can’t stand the swamp for this short of a time however will he be able to manage it here?” Mesa offered coolly with a bit of toothy bite. The man looked for a moment offended then horrified. He gaped like a fish. Then he glanced to Igov looking a bit scared.

  “Well, I- I never. Very well I wouldn’t want-” The man started in a huff. Igov tisked out an irritated breath before bring his elbow sharply and swiftly into the man’s stomach. Mesa smirked at the easy movement and turned threading her arm with her mother’s heading through the gates that opened for them.

  She called one of the on duty guards and instructed them not to fling acid unless there if a legitimate brawl outside and she’d floor them if they happened to start a brawl to test the acid. They pouted for a bit but perked when she asked them to tell the other caravan troop to lay out the conditions and tell them to fuck off for a bit. Their flavor not her directive.

  Mesa thought again as she striped and got into her bed of her mother’s preferences. Snuggling into be blanket she considered that she could agree with pretty. But the noble dressed ones hadn’t interested her. They just didn’t fit with the things that mattered to her. She’d never be able to mistake her sisters and father as squishable bugs. And despite her comparison to flowers. It was as much the wild as the flower that fit them.

  Pretty, bright and twirly but also dangerous and unpredictable. It was why her father had been for so long such an asset to the king.

  She thought of Igov. He too like the others were pretty, he had elegant features and defined lips, but he held an intensity a warning like something poisonous. It obviously wasn’t enough of a reason to jump into his arms and agree to a deal she had no real indication of what she would be asked but is was exciting to discover something in her undefined, unfigured meld of attraction and romantic interest.

  Mesa let herself fall asleep thinking of other things she might find attractive.