We didn’t encounter any guards on our way back to the hideout, but that was probably because the sun was well past its peak, and they knew enough not to be out in the desert during the hottest hours.
Cion gestured for me to go through the opening he’d revealed in the side of a dune.
I lingered inside the refreshing darkness. It took my eyes several minutes to adjust.
I didn’t feel quite like a prisoner, and yet I didn’t know where I should go either. I dug my sandal into the ground while I waited for him to show me where I should head or what I should do.
He climbed inside and secured the opening. He paused at a barrel and dipped a small cup in, careful to let any drops drip back into the barrel before offering it to me. I drank eagerly.
Cool water careened down my throat. I could’ve drunk the entire barrel and not been satisfied. After I finished, I handed the cup back to Cion, who took only a few small sips.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Good. I asked the boys to prepare dinner early.”
I followed him as he led to a common room. Colored tapestries had been nailed into the walls to guard against the jagged rocks while pillows were thrown over a patterned rug. Several lanterns gave the room an easy glow and a feeling of warmth.
The number of boys seemed to have multiplied. They lay across each other as I imagined the scorpions at Scorpion Hill did. Some of them could’ve been girls with closely cropped hair, but it was impossible to tell under all the dirt and grime. They all looked worn out.
I realized for the first time that not all of them were Achrans. One boy had the three blue triangles painted on the backs of both hands that Neribians inked on with cerelic dye at birth. It was supposed to remind them that no matter where they roamed, their home was in those mountain peaks represented on their hands, and that every time they extended their hand, whether in greeting or violence, they were representatives of all Neribians.
Another child had the typical stretchy Mesian threads tied around their ankles, probably put there by their parents. It was said when both anklets finally wore away and fell off, the child was considered old enough to be an adult in their culture.
I swallowed at the thought of how worn those anklets looked in comparison to the small frame of the child who stood before me. The desert had made these children grow up much faster than any child should have to.
I could only imagine their parents had gotten trapped here by the drought. Or maybe they’d had relatives who had escaped to the thriving Achran oasis during the Romaldihide raids on Mesia several generations ago.
Whatever the reason, they were stuck here now, covered in sand and strapped by thirst as much as any Achran. And I didn’t want to think about what had to have happened to their parents for these kids to end up out here.
Everyone stopped what they were doing when they noticed our presence.
The only open space was at the back of the room, near a green cushion. For lack of a better destination, I headed toward it. Dark eyes watched me as I passed.
There was barely room to walk between the bodies, and a few of them curled away from me like I used to do from the tigers. I stepped over Dimic and another boy, who had pebbles laid out to play some game I’d never seen before, and waited for Cion to weave his way through.
When he made it through the maze, he lounged on the pillow. I sat next to him with my knees curled up to my chest.
No one spoke.
The boy next to me had eyes as big as moonstones, but his skin had an ashen tone and his lips were peeling. He held his breath when I settled into place.
I looked away.
I’d never spent much time around children; after my mother died I’d spent every moment training. But nothing my father had taught me showed me how to interact with these boys.
Several boys arrived carrying sticks holding lizards with green dots down their backs.
“One for everyone,” Cion said.
A cheer went up.
I looked to Cion, confused.
“Normally we share them,” he said.
“What’s the occasion?”
“You,” he said. He took a skewer that was passed to him and handed it to me.
The lizard had its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. Its eyes were glassy, and its tiny claws were curled inward. I’d heard once that you should never eat a lizard whose claws weren’t curled in like that. If they were extended, it meant it had died where it stood and poison had time to seep out of its green spots into the rest of the meat.
I’d never actually eaten a green-spotted lizard for that reason. I gingerly held the stick between my fingers, careful not to touch the green spots.
“You won’t die if you touch them now,” Cion said when he saw my hesitation.
He grabbed another skewer, and I noticed he was the last to receive his, which was a far cry from the palace where my father always was served first. Cion pulled out a knife and sawed vertically down the back of the lizard, slicing off its spots, before handing me the knife and motioning for me to do the same.
I ended up hacking off most of the meat because I was so worried about not cutting deep enough. Once all the boys had sawed off the spots, they held their sticks tightly and looked to Cion.
Cion rose to his feet. “We owe this feast to Princess Kateri,” he said. “The desert can tear us apart or force us together. And it has delivered us a powerful ally, one who will help us bring down Rodric.”
I couldn’t help but scan the eager faces of the boys—the same ones I’d planned on using and then turning on after I won my throne. I looked away. How could I have thought that? They were nothing more than children without water. Children doing what they had to do to survive.
Cion continued. “You’ve each been given your own lizard in her honor tonight because I want you to be strong. Our fight is almost over.” He held up his skewer and then bit the lizard’s head clear off.
The other boys didn’t hesitate to dig in after that.
Cion flopped back down.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw I hadn’t taken a bite.
“You’re sure it’s safe to eat?”
He studied where I’d cut off the spots. “Looks fine to me.” He bit a leg off of his own. “Mmmm, tastes like rat.”
My jaw dropped open. “Rat?”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “This is more like smoked scorpion.”
“Oh,” I said. I should’ve realized this was a delicacy to them. And that he probably had been forced to eat rat before.
“We always try to have a feast where everyone gets their own lizard after we initiate a new member,” he said. “Only we weren’t exactly planning on you dropping in, so we didn’t have enough on hand. The boys went out today to find more.”
I scanned the room. That’s why they all looked exhausted. They’d spent the day looking for a feast. For me.
And I hadn’t even wanted to eat the lizard.
I bit into the meat. It was hot and melted almost instantly in my mouth. It wasn’t so bad. The skin had a bit of a grainy texture to it, and it did taste a little like scorpion, but it wasn’t as bad as eating dried raw worms. Those exploded into small segments that felt like they crawled down your throat.
He shook his head. “They really don’t joke up there in the palace, do they?”
“If we had time for jokes, we weren’t training hard enough,” I said. “I haven’t really laughed since my mother died.” And it was true. All joy had gone out of the world along with the light in her eyes.
“Don’t you think she’d want you to laugh?” Cion said. He took another bite of his lizard. He’d almost finished all of it.
“I’m sure she would,” I said, “but I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s not much to laugh at these days.” I swallowed down another hunk of flesh.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Cion said. “The Desert Boys know how to have fun better than anyone else. And you could do with a little loosening up.”
“I don’t need to loosen up.” I shoved a dangling piece of meat into my mouth. “I need to focus.”
“Focus can be woven into training in a way that is fun.” He licked the juice from the lizard that ran down the heel of his hand. “Dimic, bring that game over here.”
Dimic did as he was instructed. He balanced a long wooden board on one hand while refusing to let go of his half-eaten lizard in the other.
He picked his way through the tangle of boys and put the game down in front of us.
The pebbles clinked together and slid into one another.
“Are you going to play?” Dimic asked, eyes jumping between us. Even in the heat of the day, his hair still stuck out on all sides.
Cion shook his head. He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and glanced at it before shoving it back in. “I’ve got someplace to be,” he said. “So you’re going to play her.”
Dimic’s smile stretched nearly across his face.
“No betting,” Cion intoned.
Dimic’s smile faltered. “Oh, come on. That neck cuff’s probably worth more money than I’ve ever seen.”
Cion looked down at him.
“Fine,” Dimic grumbled, and began setting up the board.
I didn’t like that he was leaving me here alone with the boys. Some of the looks they’d given me weren’t exactly kind. I didn’t see what choice I had though.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Cion said. He rose to leave, but he stopped to whisper in Dimic’s ear. Dimic nodded solemnly and watched his brother disappear through one of the flaps that led outside.
Something about the exchange had been so secretive, so unlike the rest of what I’d observed so far. These boys seemed so open, sharing everything they had. It made me wonder all the more about what Cion was up to.
Before I could ask, Dimic’s smile had returned, and he rubbed his palms together. “The name of the game is Skips.”
He explained that each person took a turn flicking one of their pebbles at the rows of their opponent’s pebbles, trying to knock as many as they could into the little gulley carved into the board behind the rows. This went on for several rounds, each person trying to get the most points. One point for every pebble you knocked into the gulley and ten points if you knocked them all in without any of your aimed pebbles going in as well. And you lost one point for each of your own pebbles that went into the gulley. A round was over once one player’s pebbles had all been knocked into the gulley, and whoever accomplished that first got five extra points.
It wasn’t too complicated, but I still felt unsure.
“You can go first,” Dimic said after he’d set up the pebbles in two triangular outlines on each side of the board—one made of white pebbles and the other of darker gray ones. He handed me several round white pebbles a little wider than my thumbnail.
“I think you only want me to go first so I can’t copy how you do it,” I replied.
He snorted. “I’m going to win anyway,” he said, “so it’s not like it matters.”
I rolled my eyes and then selected one pebble. I aimed toward the other end of the board, but the pebble I shot went way past the board and hit Dimic straight in the chest. It bounced harmlessly off and landed in his lap.
Dimic tossed it back to me. “You did hear the part about aiming for the board, right?” After barely glancing at the board, he flicked a dark pebble with his thumb. It crashed into the pebbles on my end and sent three of them scurrying into the gulley.
“How’d you do that?” I asked, mouth agape. He made it look so easy. I should’ve been able to do it, and I couldn’t understand how I’d missed so badly.
Dimic proudly crossed his arms across his chest. “Focus and practice.”
“You barely looked at the board.”
He shrugged.
I hated to admit he really was good, and I wasn’t looking forward to losing. “What does this have to do with training?”
Dimic uncrossed his arms. “It’s about realizing our actions also have consequences. Look.” He pointed to where his dark pebble had landed on the board in front of two white ones. “This rock is effectively sheltering the ones behind it, meaning it’ll be harder to get them in later, especially without knocking mine in. It’s all about thinking ahead and not blindly making moves.”
He leaned in closer so the other boys couldn’t hear. “Cion mostly uses it to teach the younger boys how you shouldn’t go into a fight without a plan.” Dimic nodded as though he’d told me a great secret then leaned away.
“Ahh,” I said.
I weighed a white pebble in my hand and then took my time aiming at Dimic’s darker ones.
Just as I flicked my finger forward, Dimic cried out, “Miss, miss, miss.”
I was so startled I jerked to the side. My white pebble skidded off the board and onto the carpet.
“Dimic,” I scolded.
He shrugged. “Cion always does that to the new kids. It teaches them to be aware of their surroundings and not just what they’re focusing on.”
Of course Cion did that.
“Besides,” Dimic added, “I’ve always wanted to try it.”
I rolled my eyes.
Dimic beat me three games straight. Either my pebbles ended up knocking in one or two or I shot wide.
When I’d finally had enough, I said, “All right, you win. I give up.”
Dimic smiled. Somehow his hair had gotten even wilder while we were playing. He looked more like a kid now. Much more than he had the first time I’d seen him.
“Dimic,” I said as he collected the pebbles in little pouches, “about the arena . . .” But before I could continue, Dimic cut in.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “At least now I have the distinction of being one of the few Desert Boys ever to make it out of the arena alive.” His eyes lit up as he said it and a wide grin spread across his face.
His resilience shocked me. Nothing seemed to break his spirit. I didn’t know how he lived that way in such a harsh environment. Then again, maybe it was the only way to live in this environment—to count the blessings you have. Otherwise, the sadness and despair would crush you.
Dimic finished scooping the pebbles into their two bags. One he tied to his waist. The other he held out to me. “Can you carry this while I get the board?”
I reached for the bag, but Dimic tossed it to his other hand before I could grab it. “Too slow,” he intoned.
Sighing, I reached for his other hand.
This time, he tossed it over my head. One of the boys caught it, and then all the boys were on their feet shouting for him to throw it their way.
I turned back to Dimic.
He shrugged again. “Cion thought you could benefit from a game of Hands of Thieves,”
I threw up my arms. “And what do I need to know about this game?”
“It teaches you to hone your reflexes and keep different opponents in sight.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I meant, what are the rules?”
He smiled. “It only ends when you get the bag from us.”
Without a word, I turned back into the fray. The boys took particular delight in showing off their skills. Some would toss it behind their backs to another kid when I lunged for it. Others shot it through their legs.
“Too slow, Princess,” one supplied as I dove into the carpet, narrowly missing the bag as it soared away.
“Try harder,” another quipped. They were enjoying beating me a little too much.
I was sweating by the time I caught the bag from a small kid who hadn’t thrown it quite high enough.
But I’d seen the benefits of the game. Sometimes the boys would toss it. Sometimes they would all gather into a huddle around me so I couldn’t tell who passed it. I’d scramble to find it as they all pretended to throw it to someone else.
It really did keep me on my toes. No wonder Cion was as good as he was.
But I wasn’t there yet. I tossed the bag back to the kid I’d stolen it from.
“Again,” I said.
By the time Cion returned, I was under a pile of boys, fighting to maintain my grip on the bag I’d rightfully grabbed after a boy named Yeri tossed it behind his back as he’d done every other time. I’d been ready and snagged it midair.
Of course, Yeri claimed no one could catch one of his pitches, causing him to fight for it back.
Although it wasn’t a fight in the true sense of the word. There was a lot more yanking, shoving, and name calling than actual brawling.
But above it all was laughing as the other boys joined in.
“Enough, enough,” Cion called over the melee. He yanked boys off by their shirt collars.
“I see you’re all getting along well,” he said with a grin as he helped me up.
“Did you expect anything less?”
He looked around the room. “Well, I half expected at least one of them to pull a knife on you.”
“Glad I didn’t know that before you left,” I said.
“I told them they could trust you,” he replied. “I told them you promised not to restrict the water levels anymore.”
I swallowed. I’d forgotten about the water levels. A pang of guilt raced through me. These boys were helping me, and I’d promised them nothing in return because those controls couldn’t exist.
“Right,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. I could always give them access to a well or something similar. Plus, I’d work to make things better around the wells too.
“Seems like I didn’t need to worry about them though,” Cion said. “It appears you won them over.” He nodded to where Yeri was waiting for me.
“I want a rematch,” he said.
I grinned and tossed him the bag of pebbles. “You’re on.”
“Not tonight,” Cion said. “You should get to bed. The sun’s almost down, and training starts early in the desert.”
Yeri’s face dropped.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
Yeri’s eyes sparked, and a grin slowly spread across his lips. “You better hope Cion trains you really good if you want to beat me.”
“All right,” Cion said, trying to hold back a laugh. “Time for bed.”
He walked me back to my small alcove, which somehow did feel much more like mine even after only one night.
“Good night, Kateri,” he said. He offered me a small smile as he turned to leave.
I watched until his shadow disappeared down the long tunnel.
But the image of his smile stayed with me because it, along with those of the boys down the hall, were the first ones since my mother’s death that held warmth. They weren’t like the sneer Rodric wore or the sly expression that slid across my father’s lips when he knew the tiger was going to be released.
These boys shared a sense of togetherness that made their cave seem more like a home than the palace ever had. I’d just gotten my first glimpse of what a true family with siblings was like. And I liked it.
I fell asleep that night with a smile on my own face.