A few screams weren’t going to break anyone. Leah had tried multiple times to explain this, but none of the Kurkans believed her, and so these absurd ceremonies persisted. The loudest noise the Kurkans dared was a faint tootling on flutes.

“They don’t want to accidentally shout if they get too excited,” Mura had explained. “Safer if they have flutes in their mouths.”

She was doubly pleased when Leah burst out laughing at the sight of the huge Kurkans with the tiny woodwinds at their lips.

“I want to play too!” Lesha exclaimed excitedly, and Mura was quick to offer him an instrument. The little flute was just the right size for the child, and Lesha puffed at it just as all the other Kurkans were doing.

That sight ended Leah’s laughter, and was one of the rare times she allowed herself self-pity. This whole situation had come about from a peculiar misunderstanding, and it was time to clear it up.

The first Kurkans who had ever laid eyes on her had all worn the same expression, as if they could not believe such a small person could exist. Some even lowered the flutes from their mouths, as if they feared even that little blast of air might somehow harm her.

The action showed their affection for her, and never failed to move her heart. She remembered the first time she had come here, when there had been no great party waiting for her. Ishakan had held her in his arms and carried her through empty streets, making their way to the palace.

Ishakan had forbidden any other Kurkans to approach her unnecessarily, to avoid overwhelming her. The first time they had seen her was at her wedding, and of course that had hardly gone off properly.

Today, she had come as the Queen of Kurkan, and their reception made her glad that she was.

Something cold brushed her cheek and Leah frowned as something drifted from the cloudy sky. She looked up, swiping her face with her hand.

“Snow.”

It was snowing. Her mouth fell open in amazement. Snow in the desert. It was marvellous and surreal.

“Look, it’s snowing!” Mura called excitedly.

“Does it happen often?” Leah asked.

“It will snow in the desert sometimes, but it’s rare. There might be a brief flurry every twenty or thirty years.”

That was so rare, that many young Kurkans had never before seen snow in their lives.

“Many say that visitors who arrive with the snow are precious,” Mura added, holding out her hand and watching the snowflakes melting on her palm. “It must have come because you are here.”

There was great sincerity in her words, but she unconsciously glanced toward the caravan. Could the caravanners also be considered precious visitors?

When Leah followed her eyes, Mura scoffed, fearing she had mistaken the situation.

“The only honored visitors are Leah and Lesha,” she clarified, with a look that said she would sooner annihilate the caravan than admit any other possibility, and Leah sensibly agreed.

As they arrived at the palace, girls bearing flowers approached them, putting flower necklaces over Leah and Lesha’s heads, and handing them bouquets. The girls were startled to see Lesha immediately turn the flowers around to eat them, but Mura stopped him.

The little girls were riveted by the sight of Lesha’s silver hair.