This was not Leto's desert, the ground cracked and arid but not yet crumbled to sand, the presence of scattered, hardy vegetation so different from Arrakis's vast orange wastes, but it was close enough. At night, if he closed his eyes, he could almost smell cinnamon on the wind. He smelled it now — spice and something else, the tell-tale warm scent of a person approaching.
Leto breathed deep and turned his head toward the figure coming toward him. His blue-in-blue eyes were luminous at night, potentially eerie if one didn't expect them. The scales on his left arm crept up his shoulders and neck, and faded into his cheekbones. The rest of him was human, though, and perfectly common. He smiled at Beau, who he remembered well from her excellent showing during the fight night, and rose from his meditative stance. "Hello. I wasn't sure you'd come."