It took me nearly a full hour to get dressed. Mostly because the costume was way more complicated to put on then I’d first suspected. It had multiple pieces that were supposed to loop and connect, and none of them seemed to match up the way I thought they should.
I bet if Latia were here, I’d have been ready in five minutes.
One veil-like piece was sewn into the shoulder seams. It draped down my front, ending in a triangular point below my exposed belly button where it met my pants. Two other pieces hung down my back to my ankles. Some dancers crisscrossed them over their stomachs, but it hadn’t looked right when I’d tried it. So I let them hang loose.
I’d spent the rest of the time running my fingers through my hair. I’m not sure it looked presentable by the end, but it at least looked better than it had since the shifting hills had gotten ahold of it.
The cavern passages were deserted by the time I emerged. I only took one wrong turn on the way to the cavern.
Eventually, I simply followed the smell of smoke.
All the escape routes concealed in the cavern walls had been thrown open to let out the bonfire smoke. I worried Rodric would see it but realized we were too far out from the city for our celebrations to be seen. And if the Desert Boys knew enough not to go out at night, then Rodric had to as well. I also knew Cion wouldn’t risk the bonfire if he thought it was unsafe.
Groups of boys danced in front of a large fire while others lounged on cushions, rugs, and blankets.
“Whoa,” Dimic said when he spotted me.
All the other boys stopped and turned to stare.
Thankfully, the flickering light of the flames hid the embarrassment in my cheeks. I must look like a mess. I crossed my arms over my stomach and turned to go back, but Dimic’s words stopped me.
“She’s the prettiest sand dancer I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“She’s the only one you’ve ever seen,” another boy shot back.
A shadow pulled away from the bonfire and moved toward me. Cion.
“It looks good on you,” he said quietly.
I tugged at the transparent fabric covering my stomach. “I’m not even sure it’s on right.”
“Does that mean you don’t know how to sand dance?” Dimic asked, disappointment staining his voice.
“I used to.” I was so used to regular performances at the palace, I’d forgotten that to them, such entertainment must be a rare treat. So I knew what was coming next.
“Will you dance for us?” one of the boys asked.
My immediate response was to tell them no, but more of the boys crowded around, begging.
“I’ve always wanted to see a real sand dancer,” one called.
My eyes went to Cion.
He stood unmoving, the fire reflecting off his face and dipping into the small grooves of his dimples as he smiled at me. His eyebrows were arched slightly as if to say that the decision was up to me.
Sand dances were originally meant to be performed for your loved ones. I’d never gotten to perform for my family. And this group of boys was the closest I had to family now. They’d taken me in. They’d protected me. They’d fought for me.
The least I could do for sharing their home, their water, and their food was give them this one gift in return.
“All right,” I said before I could change my mind. “I’ll dance.”
A shout of glee went up from the boys. They ran off to every corner of the room, dragging jars and ceramic pitchers with them as they sat in a circle away from the fire. They pushed and shoved each other for better positions.
Now I had to figure out what I remembered and what possible dance I could perform. The first one every girl learned was how to scrawl her name in the sand. But that seemed too simple for the eager eyes before me.
The one I’d seen performed most recently was the celebration dance, the one the girls would perform whenever I beat an opponent in the arena.
That’s the one I would do. It had always been my favorite. And we were celebrating anyway.
After I took up position in the middle of the circle, I sprinkled sand over my feet, asking both the desert and my mother to guide my steps.
Slowly, the boys drummed on the objects they were holding, creating a steady beat even with the rhythm of my heart.
I let the music build, letting them all join in. Then I swooped my hands down, scooping up handfuls of sand. My hands formed a basket over my head. I spun. Sand flew out from between my fingers, showering the boys around me.
My mother had explained that it was meant to represent rain. For there was no greater thing to celebrate than water.
The boys shouted with glee. I spun faster.
Once all the sand had escaped, I moved toward the edge of the circle. I kicked up my feet, spraying every third boy. Although I gave a little extra spray toward Dimic, who laughed and held up his arms defensively.
If this had been a true performance, the sand would’ve been evenly laid and each swipe of my foot would’ve left a deep groove. My marks were uneven and not precisely spaced, but they looked a little like the sunrays they were supposed to be. I ran my foot in a circle inside the marks while my arms waved back and forth.
The next part was the trickiest. I hopped on one foot while the other drew a wavy line, representing the obstacles we’d overcome. I continued the pattern, spinning and weaving until the untouched sand shrank and shrank around me. I drew one last circle with my toes. I was in the small center, and the pattern lay around me like a woven rug.
The tempo increased.
I let it take me.
I spun in circles in that tiny space. Around and around and around. The world became a blur of darkness on one side and light from the bonfire on the other. It was said you could tell a good sand dancer by how well her pattern was executed and by how long she could spin without growing dizzy and tripping into the outside pattern.
I don’t know how long I spun. But eventually, the world fell away. There was nothing but me and my breathing. There were no expectant faces. There were no suitors sizing me up. There was just me.
I pictured my mother’s face. Her laughter wrapped around me as I spun. I let my arms go wide like a bird floating on the breeze I’d created.
I spun for her. I spun for the sister I’d never gotten to meet. But most of all, I spun for me, for the years I’d never get back. I spun away from the woman I didn’t want to be.
I’m not sure when the tears started. They were just there as I spun. Clinging to me and then letting go. I let them come. It was the first time I wasn’t ashamed of their presence.
I let heaving sobs take me. They pulled at my body, throwing me off balance.
I spun until I couldn’t hold breath in my lungs, my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees in the middle of the circle.
The drumming cut off.
I covered my face with my palms and sobbed. The sound echoed around the cavern.
It sounded like weakness. But I didn’t feel weak. For the first time, I felt strong. The strength my mother had been talking about.
What had Cion said? That it was right to return our tears to the earth?
I think my mother would’ve agreed. She’d said that strength didn’t always come in the form of a sword arm.
I wiped my eyes and looked up at the dirt-stained faces around me. More than one was crying. I thought I even caught a glint in Cion’s eyes before he rose to his feet, clapping. That broke the spell over the boys. They jumped to their feet, applauding.
I rose to my feet and bowed as steadily as I could.
Every pattern had an escape route that was supposed to be visible to only the dancer in the middle. Mine was a little crooked. I weaved through the lines so as not to disturb anything.
By the time I found my way out, some of the boys had returned to the fire. Others had moved off to the side and were trying to make their own patterns.
Cion waited at the edge of the sunrays. “That was beautiful.”
“It’s been a long time,” I replied. I was suddenly conscious of how blotchy my cheeks must be. I ducked my head and rubbed at my cheeks using the dangling fabric wrapped around me.
Cion surprised me by lightly touching my chin and pulling it back up. He wiped away a tear with his thumb, sending warmth through my body.
The golden flecks of his eyes pulled in the warmth of the bonfire as he smiled down at me. How could I have misjudged him so? He wasn’t the cold-blooded killer I’d always pictured. He was gentle, kind, understanding. He was so unlike anyone at the palace that he seemed more like a mirage than something I could believe was real. Then again, hadn’t my mother possessed his same optimistic spirit, that same drive to stand up for her people?
“Thank you,” he said. “You gave these boys something they will always treasure.”
I wiped away another tear. “I’m sorry I ruined it by crying. I was thinking about my mother.”
“Ruined it?” He shook his head, sending his untamed hair even further astray. “You made it personal, real. You made us feel what you were feeling.”
I smiled up at him. But there was sadness in his eyes.
He dropped his gaze. “I want to show you something,” he finally said. He took my hand and pulled me away from the boys dancing around the bonfire and led me to a small passageway hidden behind one of the stalagmites ringing in the room. The tunnel was entirely dark. He let go of my hand so I could focus on my footing as the pathway slanted upward.
His breathing was the only thing that signaled he was still in front of me. The air became colder around us. At first, I thought it was due to the absence of the fire, but the farther we climbed, the colder it got. We started to encounter more loose sand. It made the climb more difficult, and I had to shove my feet into it to gain any sort of traction.
Cion stopped in front of me, his shape silhouetted against a cascade of sand. He plunged through it.
I wasn’t sure what I’d find inside, but I followed him.
I took a breath and pushed forward. I stumbled into a small circle of light. Cion caught me, his arms lingering on my waist as he set me gently on my feet.
Above us was a hole wide enough that I couldn’t touch either side. Sand trickled in around the edges, forming a curtain around us and covering the floor.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He pointed to the sky visible through the hole. “This is the best spot for watching shooting stars. It’s not always accessible, but a sandstorm usually clears it out.”
Across the visible sky, the stars hazed in and out of focus like lanterns in a faraway town. Even from my balcony ledge they’d never looked that bright before.
As we watched, one fell away from the others, dragging itself across the sky and leaving a trail of light behind. Then another dripped from the heavens. They shot toward the horizon, chasing one another.
There was an old myth that the sun was made up of stars. When the sun rose during the day, bits would break off and linger in the sky, visible at night. People believed there was one star for every person. The day you were born was the day your bit of star would break away to decorate the sky. The day you died was the day your star would shoot across the sky, going back to the horizon, returning your light to the sun so that it could go on supporting the living.
Cion released his hold on me and motioned for us to lie down.
I sank in next to him. Sand filled around my hips and back.
I expected Cion to speak. He didn’t.
But the silence was peaceful, nothing like that first day out here when I couldn’t think of a single topic besides training that we could talk about.
We just lay there, our bodies almost touching as we watched the sky go round.
“Do you believe in the story about the stars? That there’s one for each of us?” I finally asked.
He shook his head. “I came up here the night Remy died, and there weren’t any shooting stars. Everything was as still and lifeless as his body had been.”
“So you don’t think the stars mean anything,” I ventured. I looked over at him, but he was only looking up.
“The first night I came out here to be a Desert Boy, I saw a shooting star. And to me, it meant that I was on the right path. That’s what I believe now. That they show you when you’re going in the direction you were meant to follow.”
I’d never heard that explanation before. But I liked it. “So you think those two we just saw mean we’re both on the right path.”
“I hope so,” he said.
Sand whispered silently around us. Cutting us off from the world.
“I always come here when I think about Remy,” Cion said quietly. “This was our spot. I’ve never brought anyone else here before. Not even Dimic.”
I studied him. “Why me, then?”
He was silent for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer. “I feel like you understand loss the same way I do. That you feel it as deeply as I do. Tonight, you let it show. I know it must kill you inside to have discovered what you did about your own father. I thought you might want a place to be alone with your thoughts.”
He was mostly right. Except for the being alone part. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how alone I’d been all my life. No mother. A father who didn’t love me. Not even a sibling to share the burden with.
“I think it’s easier,” I said, “never having known my . . . sister. And I was always so busy trying to impress my father that there was never any time to truly love him.”
“Were you lonely in the palace?” Cion picked up a handful of sand and let it slowly drain from his palm.
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I didn’t know what loneliness was back then. That’s just how life was. But now . . .” I met his eyes. “Now that I’ve seen what it’s like to have people care about you, I would be.”
“Well, you can always find a Desert Boy in the dungeon,” he said, only half joking.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For what my father’s done to you. For what Rodric’s done to you. For what I’ve done to you.” I pictured the day Dimic was in the arena, how I wanted so badly for a tiger to tear him apart. How I wanted to tear him apart.
I clutched at the sand around me. “Sometimes I’m glad my mother is dead so she can’t see what I’ve become, how I’ve treated her people.”
“She’d be proud if she saw you now,” he replied. “You’re going to beat Rodric. You’re going to save our people.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him. Not yet. “Would you disband the Desert Boys then?” I asked.
“If you stop restricting the water levels, probably. But most won’t have anywhere else to go.”
“If they know the way through the desert, why don’t they just leave?”
He shook his head. “It’s hard to leave the only homes they know. And starting over is easier for the women we help. We can find them jobs weaving or making pottery. The boys struggle to find work when the only skills they have are stealing and fighting.”
I stared up at the stars. “What if I disbanded the royal caravans and opened the marketplace to anyone who wanted to import and sell? Your boys could have a booming business. And if they didn’t want to do that, we could open a training school for soldiers.”
“They would never fight for your father,” Cion said, “but they would fight for you.” He pulled his gaze away from the stars once more. “I would fight for you.”
His words hung heavier than the stars above us, and his eyes gleamed just as brightly.
I was suddenly aware of how close our bodies were. Our shoulders were touching. Our faces mere inches apart.
I’m not sure what would’ve happened if I’d kept my face turned toward him. I was too afraid to find out, afraid to admit what I saw in his eyes was mirrored in my own.
I swallowed. “I’ll need a new captain of the guard once Rodric is gone,” I said, finally breaking his gaze. That was the most I could offer. For now. Because for the first time, I’d found someone who didn’t want to be master of me. Because I’d never loved someone the desert hadn’t taken away—and I couldn’t chance adding Cion to that list.
That scared me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him turning away to stare once more at the sky.
I thought I’d sense disappointment in his voice, but I didn’t.
“If the position requires killing the previous occupant,” he said, “then you can count me in.”
“You’ll have to get in line,” I replied.
He laughed.
That broke the awkwardness between us. He stood, brushing sand from his loose pants. “Let’s head back before we freeze to death. You’ve got training in the morning, and if we’re lucky, the boys might still have saved us some dinner.”
Oddly, I hadn’t even felt the cold when I was next to him, but I took the hand he stretched toward me.
I caught sight of two stars as they rushed across the sky before I followed him back through the sand and down the tunnel.