Rasia couldn’t hunt a dragon by herself. Despite what others might claim, she knew her limitations. Even Rasia, in all her skill and experience, admitted a dragon was too big for her to handle alone. But she sure as fuck wasn’t going back to Nico.
The night before the Forging, Rasia had stashed her windship at the nearby oasis. It was supposed to have been a “just-in-case” contingency. According to Rasia’s jih, quite a few stragglers tended to congregate around the oasis, sometimes forming impromptu teams.
Rasia had a ship. All she needed was a few volunteers.
Rasia spotted the kull ship on the horizon, following her.
Either Nico was dumb enough to follow Rasia because Nico didn’t trust her to take care of herself or smart enough to realize that she had no idea what she was doing and had followed Rasia out of self-preservation.
Definitely the former.
Rasia searched around the scorpion corpse for anything she could use and found a few carapace fragments in good condition. She shoved one of the plates underneath her bandages to help brace her ribs, then carried the second piece to the top of the sand hill formed over the scorpion’s pincers. She dropped the slab of exoskeleton, and then jumped atop the makeshift sandboard to ride the momentum down.
She used to race jih all the time to see how far they could manipulate the terrain to go faster. She knew which hills her current speed could not take her over and which dunes were best to go around. Every curve and adjustment lived in her bones. It was almost all too easy.
Nothing was as fun as it used to be.
Rasia knew the Desert so well it didn’t surprise her anymore. It felt good that this new hunt sparked shivers of excitement. She’d hunt a dragon that no one, not even the best hunting kulls, could slay. She’d be the first ever to bring back a dragon for her coming of age. Oh, how she enjoyed a challenge.
Rasia reached the oasis by nightfall. Many campfires weaved through the palm fronds. Rasia crept through the ferns and water lilies, out of sight, curious to know what her options were. Some kids had injuries, others looked exhausted, and others were passing through to replenish their supplies of water and food. One group cheered each another on as they climbed a date palm.
For the most part—the losers.
One campfire caught her attention the most, not because she spotted anyone who could be of use, but because of the sheer amount of uselessness that had been gathered together in one place: the runt, the mutt, and an orphan.
The loser’s losers.
Rasia didn’t have a lot of options, but she would make the best of her bones. Rasia tightened the bone brace around her ribs—never show weakness—and started at the largest fire where they had been climbing the date palms. Rasia strode out of a bush and slammed her foot atop a fallen tree, unsettling several who had been using it as a seat.
“All right, losers!” Rasia pointed her khopesh at those who’d fallen to the ground, then those eating unripe dates. “We’re going to slay a dragon. Follow me. Make your name. Dare something no one has ever dared before. Heroes are written, but legends never die!”
The campfire lit their faces, burnt by confusion or disinterest.
“Isn’t she that crazy kid that runs around the Desert naked or something?” someone asked.
“Yeah, she threw her bones right over the Tail, remember?”
“Rabid Rasia? She’s as crazy as that Tent kid.”
“You think if we ignore her, she’ll go away?”
“Are you listening to me?” Rasia demanded hotly. “I’m offering you the chance to make a name for yourself. I’m offering you glory!”
They laughed at her—that same narrow, unimaginative laugh that had followed Rasia all her life.
Rasia scowled at Faris, a hunter’s kid. Certainly, he would understand. “What about you?”
Faris shrugged his shoulders. “There are real things to worry about, Rasia.”
Fuck ‘em all.
Rasia clenched her fists and walked away. She didn’t have time for these losers, these kids who’d given up or who were too afraid to try. Rasia sucked in several trembling breaths, then walked to the next fire and tried again.
Same story. Same ending. Different characters. They all thought her crazy. They all laughed. They all refused to take her seriously even though she was the only person in this rutting Desert who knew anything about what they were doing!
Rasia shrugged through the bushes to reach the last campfire. The distant laughter preceded her arrival. Nevertheless, Rasia gathered herself and faced their oncoming mockery. She glared straight at the runt, daring him, of all people, to laugh at her.
“I’m going to slay a dragon. Do any of you stupid fucks want to come with me?”
“Okay.”
Rasia did a double take because she had already turned around. She stared at the runt, whose face was still oddly covered by his shroud. But you know what? Rasia didn’t care about his weird at the moment. “Really?”
“No,” the mutt spat out. “Kai, what are you doing? We have a plan.”
“A plan I never agreed to.”
“You’re going to go off with Rasia chasing dragons? If Rasia is here, Nico isn’t far behind.”
Rasia frowned and looked between the two of them, just the two because the orphan flock kid had quickly disappeared the moment Rasia had appeared out of the bushes.
It all clicked in that moment—why Nico had been so adamant about allying with another team. “That two-faced skink. She was trying to get to you.”
“Where is Nico?” the mutt asked.
Rasia couldn’t care less where Nico was right now. Rasia had shaken her drums ago.
“Probably sulking off somewhere over her failures.”
“What did you do?” the mutt demanded.
“Why does everyone always assume it’s my fault?” Rasia asked, annoyed. She looked at the runt. “Are you coming or not?”
He stepped forward only for the mutt to catch him by the arm. “Kai, no.”
“Let go of me,” the runt demanded. “You might be Nico’s friend, but you’re not mine.”
“We’re trying to help you.”
“I never asked for help!”
Rasia saw how this was going to go: It would be no different than any of the other campfires. Rasia turned and left them to argue. She had things to do and dragons to slay.
A crescent moon spilled milk and stars into the water. She walked through rivers of slim light, weaved through sleeping camels, and stopped before a mountain of fallen palms. Rasia yanked at the fronds, shook off the insects and the moonlight drizzled on the leaves, and peeled back the layers to reveal her windship underneath.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Rasia said, grabbing at the mast and dragging it out of its hiding spot. It was back-breaking work, as a suction of dung clung to the hull. When Rasia finally plucked it free, she collapsed against the beaten, bruised, and misshapen ship. It wasn’t as pretty or as large as the other windships, but it had never let her down.
That was more than Rasia could say for anyone else.
One word, “Okay,” fell from Kai’s lips, as unexpected as the way Rasia had looked at him, not over or through him, but right at him and gave him a choice. People didn’t ask his opinion. They didn’t invite him anywhere or seek out his help. Even those closest to him, like Nico, didn’t truly listen to him. They made choices on his behalf, to protect him, when Kai would rather they protect themselves. Rasia had asked him a question and it was the first time Kai felt heard, for Kai’s words never held any weight until that one word had the power to turn Rasia around.
Just once, Kai wanted the ability to make his own choices—even stupid ones.
So, Kai waited.
He waited for Zephyr to assign watch between himself and Kelin, not once considering that maybe Kai wanted to be more than a waste of space. Kai could feed the fire, he could shout as well as anyone else, but unsurprisingly, Zephyr overlooked him for even the most menial of tasks. Kai waited for Zephyr to settle into his bedroll and for Kelin to wander toward the edge of camp, turn his back, and pass water.
Kai didn’t have many things to gather. He had his dagger, his rucksack with an extra caftan, a spare shroud, and a water-gourd. Wary that Zephyr would take note of his absence too soon, Kai stacked rocks and a broken branch underneath his bedroll. It wasn’t going to fool anyone come morning, but Kai doubted Kelin would notice. It was the only advantage of people constantly underestimating and overlooking him.
Kai crept quietly into the darkness of the oasis.
The oasis looked different at night. Kai jumped at every rustle and stilled at every owl hoot. Paranoia and vigilance followed him through the shadows, waiting and ready to take any shape from cruel children to hungry predators. He hadn’t realized how secure he had felt until he was walking away from Zephyr’s fire.
At least Kai was accustomed to this fear. It was the same fear that followed him through the streets of the Grankull and into the serving room of his own house. It was a fear he had grown tired of, exhausted by the sheer effort of pushing through it every vibration of every day. But he had a reason to fight it now. Kai carved his way through the oasis, propelling himself forward on sheer force of will to find Rasia on the other end.
Until he began to doubt. He imagined Rasia’s disappointment when he stepped from the reeds and she realized it was just him, the runt. His steps slowed. All around him, the darkness threatened to consume him.
Kai heard the distinct sound of a sail snapping in the wind. He rushed forward, afraid she was leaving and he’d miss his only chance. He stumbled out of the grass.
Without her shroud, Rasia looked as Kai always imagined: black eyes full of stars and a wicked smirk that could cut anything in her path. Leaves decorated her flag of hair and every shift of her hip staked the ground like some fierce creature with the Desert at her command.
He braced himself for her disappointment.
But Rasia’s lips curled at the corners, and Kai had never seen anything as beautiful as that mad moon-crescent grin. She glowed and all shadows receded before her.
“What you waiting for?” she asked. “Get in.”
Kai climbed the windship’s stairs. The foot grips were so worn that he almost slipped, but he managed to reach the deck without breaking himself.
“Go sit somewhere,” Rasia ordered. “I’ll handle everything.”
Not wanting to get in her way, Kai sat down in the front corner and watched her tackle every task with a flurry of motion and speed of purpose. She used one of the oars to turn the ship away from the soft ground of the oasis. She batted dirt from the sail, clouding the air with dust and smoke that burned the eyes. She knotted ropes, locked the hatches, and raised the anchor.
“Let’s go get us a dragon!” Rasia slammed her hand on the steer.
Kai rolled.
The world turned and righted itself with a sudden oomph. Kai stared, dazed, from where he’d landed in the sand.
He had fallen off the ship.
Rasia’s feet rushed tip-tap across the deck. She looked over the railing down at him, and Kai knew this is where she’d reevaluate her invitation. Instead, a quivering laugh burst out of her.
“How the fuck? I told you to sit!” Rasia yelled from the deck.
“I did,” Kai said, utterly confused.
Rasia vaulted over the railing and dropped to the ground. With a laugh infecting her movements, she reached out a hand. “You are so pathetic. Here.”
Kai blinked at her offered hand. She offered it to him without hesitation when others either shied away from him like he was diseased or met him with violence. The imprint of Zephyr’s grip still throbbed and bruised around his arm. A voice in the back of his head cautioned the contact, but he fought through the fear and touched her.
With a tug, she set him on his feet.
“And take that stupid thing off. It’s not as if you have horns under all that linen,” Rasia admonished, snatching off Kai’s shroud before he had a chance to grab for it. He expected her to flinch back in revulsion or mock him. Or react in disappointment like the last time she’d yanked it off in the middle of the belly market.
Instead, this time, she demanded, “Respect my face, and I’ll respect yours,” before shoving his shroud back into his arms.
Kai clutched at his shroud, his face feeling vulnerable in the open air. He should be afraid. He should be wary and guilty for running away from Nico. But fuck it.
It was time he threw his bones.