I put one hand over my mouth to stop myself from vomiting. I steadied myself against the table and looked again to be sure. Rodric stood there, staring straight at me.
My father looked at me sideways. “Much like Tamlin, Rodric was sent to us from the desert. He has mastered its ways, and you must master him if you wish to have my throne.”
Breaths caught in my chest. Each of my father’s words were like grains of sand stinging my skin during a sandstorm. Rodric wouldn’t rule. He would annihilate. Anyone who opposed him would be thrown from the palace towers or have their tongues ripped out for criticizing him.
Yet this was the man my father thought the desert had chosen to be our leader and the man I was to marry. If I lost.
The knot growing in my stomach tightened. I would lose.
A thought struck me. “He’s not nobility,” I blurted, turning toward my father. Tamlin hadn’t been nobility either, but the people had been so grateful for his saving them, they’d claimed he was the desert’s choice to fight in the arena trials. And so he’d been allowed. All my other suitors had some ties to royal blood. Rodric had simply appeared out of the desert boasting of his skill with a sword. Just like Tamlin.
My father turned away to address the crowd, as well as me. “Rodric may not be royalty, but it is only fair we honor the desert’s will and pit its champion against our own. Just as Tamlin was given the same chance.”
My stomach dropped. I had promised my mother I would lead her people. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t let Rodric waltz in here and take everything. The people had loved Tamlin. No one loved Rodric.
Except my father.
I’d known they’d been spending more time together, and my father had thought Rodric’s skill so great he’d allowed him to take over training me these last few months. I didn’t think it had gone this far. I didn’t think Rodric had twisted his mind so much that my father actually thought Rodric was the next Tamlin.
But I could see it now. The gleam in my father’s eyes when he turned to look at Rodric. And I wondered if he thought he was seeing a new way to keep his legacy intact, one that would link his name with the greatest king we’d ever had. Or maybe he was seeing the brother I always should have had.
A thought tore through me. My father didn’t care who won. If I did, I’d prove his strength. If I didn’t, picking Rodric despite his lack of nobility would be seen as his way of backing the desert’s choice, of ensuring the strength of the throne.
No one else would speak up about the lack of nobility. Not against Rodric. The soldiers who crossed him had an odd way of disappearing. Sometimes their bodies were found in the desert by the caravans coming into the city. Sometimes they were discovered in their beds covered with scorpion bites. Sometimes they were never found at all.
Rodric saw anyone who questioned him as questioning the will of the desert itself since he was a product of the desert—no, a master of it. He saw ruling with an iron fist as the only way to rule. I hadn’t really cared before, but now I might find myself under that fist.
I’d spent years training, years trying to live up to my father’s legacy, to gain the strength to take the throne and protect my people like my mother had always wanted me to do. And now I would be stopped at the bitter end by Rodric?
He sauntered forward and bowed before my father. When he righted himself, his eyes were on me. “I’ve trained you well,” he said. “Now it’s time to find out how well.”
I balled my hands into fists. I wanted to wipe the smile from his face, to wipe away every memory of him, because he’d done this. While I’d been so busy training, he’d been poisoning my own father against me. And I’d played right into his script by getting injured today.
“I’ll arrange for another trainer to come in,” my father said, as if that were the reason I was fuming.
I didn’t need another trainer. I needed a miracle.
Rodric smirked. “In a month, this will be our wedding feast,” he said, throwing his arms wide.
It irked me that he was so confident. I should have known he was simply trying to get into my head, to wreck my confidence, but he didn’t need to. His presence was enough to send every thought of victory fleeing from my body.
“I’m tired after my fight,” I said, pushing away from the table. “I’m going to my room.” I needed to get away from all the prying eyes. I needed time to think, to figure out how to get my father back on my side.
Rodric bowed as I exited the hall, but I felt his eyes following me the entire way. By the time I left the main hall, I was shaking.
Even though sunset was an hour or two away, Latia already had a thick nightgown pulled out when I arrived in my room. “I can’t believe you’re going to face Rodric,” she exclaimed. “He’ll make an excellent leader. He’s as strong as your father, I imagine. No one will dare cross him. Not since the desert sent him to us.” She hugged the nightgown to her chest. “That’s if he wins, of course,” Latia added when she saw my face.
“Get out,” I seethed, sending her fleeing from the room with the nightgown still clutched to her chest.
I paced the length of the room. I threw open my wardrobe and tore all the gowns out one by one. The shimmering fabrics caressed my skin as I flung them away. They felt like ghosts against my skin, the same kind of ghost I would become if I married Rodric. He would take the throne, and I’d be left with nothing. I wouldn’t even be able to go after the Desert Boys. No, he’d want that glory for himself.
This had probably been his plan all along. Train me well enough to fight everyone else—everyone but him—while he maneuvered his way into my father’s good graces. My hands instinctively went to the scars concealed beneath the cuff on my neck.
How could I possibly win my father back after this? My only option was to be the champion in the arena. But that seemed impossible.
I stared down at the pile of wilted gowns. I kicked one away and strode out to the balcony.
I leaned over the railing, hoping to catch the first breeze of night and ease the heat coursing through me, but there was no relief from the sun’s gaze. Not even guards patrolled the walls, keeping instead to the shade by the gate.
Below me, voices floated up. At first, I paid them no mind, too absorbed in my own problems to care about anyone else’s. But then my name was mentioned.
“Kateri fights better than most of the soldiers, though she won’t beat me,” Rodric said. “I only hope she doesn’t cause a scene.”
“She will come around to marrying you,” another voice replied. Probably one of his soldiers. “She will abide by the rules of the arena.”
“I still plan on keeping extra guards on her until our fight.” Rodric’s comment froze me in place. “I want everyone to see her cower before me, to recognize that the desert is choosing me. But she already knows she can’t beat me, which is why I question if she’ll even try to flee.”
Their voices grew louder, their footsteps shuffling across the balcony directly below mine.
“If she did,” the second voice said, “there’s nowhere she could run. Even if she were lucky enough not to get hit by a sandstorm, only the caravans know the safe way through the desert, and all the drivers are loyal to you. She couldn’t carry enough water on her own to make the journey.”
“She wouldn’t survive a day in that desert, let alone a sandstorm.” Rodric laughed. “She’ll bend under my rule like everyone else. And after I’m king, if she gets in the way of my plans, she’ll meet the same fate as the queen.”
My stomach plummeted downward. I gripped onto the balcony railing to prevent myself from plummeting too.
“Or I should gift her to Cion,” Rodric continued. “The only thing she’d hate more than me killing her would be to die at a Desert Boy’s hand.”
I couldn’t hear what else they said. The pounding of my heart drowned out the world. I slid down against the railing and clung to it, afraid the balcony might drop from beneath me as the rest of the world had done.
Several fire-legged flies buzzed around my head. I didn’t even bother shooing them away.
I pulled my knees close to my chest and ran my fingers through my hair. I forced myself to breathe, to think.
I needed a plan. That’s always how I prepared for a fight. It started with studying my opponent and finding his weaknesses. But Rodric was an excellent swordsman. He acted in anger more often than not, but that wasn’t a true weakness since he had brute strength to back up his actions. Not to mention the guards. None of them would train me. They’d see it as a betrayal of Rodric.
There was no way I’d ask my father to train me again. Not now. And there wouldn’t be time to bring another trainer in on the caravans.
That left me back where I started, with no plan and no allies. This wasn’t how I’d pictured going into my last fight.
But it wouldn’t be a fight. It would be a massacre, and whatever Rodric did to me in the arena would be a dream compared to what he’d do after we married. The thought made the scars on my neck prickle.
What could I do?
Escape. The word whispered through my thoughts.
I turned to look out over the rolling desert.
Could I? But where could I go? I’d be found in the town, I couldn’t take one of the caravans, and I’d die in the desert on my own with all the sandstorms and no water.
Or would I?
I pulled myself up the railing, not taking my eyes from the shifting sands that zigzagged all the way to the horizon.
Hadn’t Tamlin run across it without water and lived to tell the tale? Hadn’t he avoided all its traps? Hadn’t I always thought that I was Tamlin in a way?
I’d always put honor and strength above everything. Would I prove I wasn’t my father’s daughter if I ran away? Wasn’t I failing him and demonstrating I wasn’t strong enough to rule?
Or had I already shown I wasn’t the desert’s choice? Isn’t that why he’d thrown his lot in with Rodric?
He didn’t think I was worthy. He didn’t think I could win.
I’m not sure which hurt worse.
A part of me screamed I should stay and fight Rodric. There was still a chance I could prove my father wrong, that I could show him I was worthy, that I could protect and lead these people like my mother wanted—like I thought my father had wanted. But the other part of me shouted to get away. By staying to fight, I was giving Rodric the easy option while sentencing myself to death. I couldn’t deny him the throne, but I could make sure he didn’t get me in the process. Then, I wouldn’t have to stay and watch as he slowly drained the life out of these people while I was helpless to stop it.
The town spread out below me. Beyond it, the desert waited. I turned away and tossed aside my curtains.
I moved toward my bed and slid my hands between the frame and the mattress, pulling out book after faded book.
My mother had been the only royal to use the library when I was younger. She used to take me there and read me stories of far-off places. I think she enjoyed it more than I did. Probably because she counted her learning to read once she was queen as one of the greatest accomplishments of her life.
My father thought books took too much time away from training. That’s why he destroyed the library a few years after my mother’s death. But not before I’d smuggled out the books I knew would be useful to tracking down her killers. The ones that described lizards in detail or charted the stars in the sky for navigation. I even had one written by Tamlin himself.
I’d spent endless nights poring over the books looking for details that hinted at a location where the Desert Boys could hide or that talked about creatures I’d need to avoid. Most volumes were too vague or only mentioned the creatures you could find within the city walls.
The only one who’d written anything useful was Tamlin.
In the one book he had written, Tamlin had drawn a map through the desert. The only problem was that the few men brave enough to use it never made it out of the desert alive, and the one caravan my father had sent that way had also been lost.
I flipped through the pages until I landed on the crudely drawn map. A line snaked across the page toward the city of Hartirm on the other side. I traced the route with my finger. There were no other landmarks on the map, no explanations for why the line dipped here or turned there, nothing of note at all but that line weaving its way across the page.
It was better than nothing. I took a deep breath and ripped it out.
Next, I raided the only clothing I’d left untouched in my wardrobe—my gladiator gear. I pulled out a fresh tunic and new sandals, then slid the leather overlay over my head, settling the pleats into place over the tunic. I took out a black cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders. I tied an empty water skin to my belt and belted my sword around my waist before sliding two daggers into the high straps of the new sandals.
Hopefully the weapons would serve me better in the desert than they would have against Rodric.
I tucked the map into my belt.
I returned to the balcony and surveyed my kingdom for the last time. I would miss sitting there watching the sands perform their golden dance, a reminder of the sand dancing lessons my mother had given me as a child, and what I believed was her way of letting me know she was still watching over me, reminding me I was the desert’s choice and worthy to be queen.
I shoved the thought away that the desert had instead sent Rodric to us. That I had never been strong enough to beat him because I was never meant to take the throne.
Instead I focused on the fact I’d already beaten eleven suitors. I was strong enough to rule. I’d practiced every day since my mother died to be powerful enough, to be what she hoped.
I still remembered the last conversation I had with her. She’d been in the early stages of labor. At the time, she’d been certain she was going to have another girl. My mother sent her servants away and hoisted me onto the small portion of her lap not covered by her swollen belly. Sweat dotted her body.
“Kateri,” she said, stroking my hair, “soon you will have a sister. And if that’s the case, you’ll have solidified your place as our next queen.”
The curtains across the room had hazed in and out with a breeze that didn’t reach us. The stagnant air festered with the smell of slimy salves the servants had left behind.
“Someday this will be yours.” She’d taken her crown from the table next to her bed and placed it on my head. It slid down my forehead, covering one of my eyes. She smiled and pushed it back up, balancing it on my brow. “It might seem heavy now, but it will only be heavier then. Always remember what it means to wear this.”
I straightened the crown on my head. “Do I look like you?”
“Of course you do. You look like both your father and me.” She pulled me closer, stroking my hair. “You also have the strength of your father and my heart. Your father will expect you to become hard. He’ll want you to channel his strength, especially when you fight in the arena for the crown.”
I nodded. Even then, I understood what would be expected of me if my mother had another girl.
“I don’t want . . .” She trailed off as her face scrunched inward, and she clasped her belly. She inhaled sharply, but after a few moments released her breath. Her face relaxed. She took a moment to focus her breathing before she continued. “I don’t want you to forget that sometimes being the strongest isn’t about having the most physical strength. Control isn’t strength. True strength is about being kind. It’s forgiving wrongs with words and not with swords. It’s about caring for our people, standing for those who cannot. You are their voice. Never forget that.”
I nodded again.
She cupped my chin. Her green eyes were weary, and yet there was still a fierceness to them that wouldn’t let me look away.
“You will be a great leader.” Another spasm of pain racked through her body. “Promise me you’ll look after our people.”
“I promise,” I replied.
A small amount of tension left her face. “Now go.” She helped me slide off her lap and removed the crown from my head. My father didn’t like me wearing it—he said I hadn’t earned it yet.
“I love you more than all the sands in the desert,” she said, using the phrase she always did when she tucked me in at night.
I blew her a kiss, spinning my hand around as though the kiss were caught in a sandstorm so it would get to her faster.
I had padded barefoot out of the room, only looking back once at the door. I knew the pain still raced through her, but she smiled through it. With her strength combined with my father’s inside me, I’d thought I’d be unstoppable.
Yet here I was, ready to run away, ready to forsake my promise to my mother after fighting so many years against the Desert Boys to keep our people safe. Would she really rather I stay and fight only to later die at Rodric’s hands? If I had any hope of winning against Rodric, I’d stay. But I didn’t.
I leaned against the balcony railing. Across from me, a cactus flyer hopped across the palace wall. The bird had broken off the spine of a cactus and was using it to poke into holes looking for grieving spiders, tarantula termites, or any other creature that had taken refuge from the day’s heat in the holes. Again and again it hopped forward, stabbing its spike—one more reminder of what Rodric would do to me if I stayed.
I looked away toward the desert sands stretching far past the city. If I waited long enough, would my mother send a gust of sand scattering across the hills, beckoning me, letting me know it was okay to go?
The desert was still and stifling.
I shook my head. She’d want me to stay and protect the people as long as I could. To find a way to restore the kingdom using the strength she’d given me.
Isn’t that what she’d done? She tried to do what little good she could for the people instead of running away when my father picked her as his bride.
I raised my head from the railing and watched the wind blow small trickles across the tops of the dunes in all directions, as though they too were confused about where they belonged.
I knew then I would fight. I would train as hard as I could on my own. I would honor the promise to my mother.
But as I stared out at the sands, a realization struck. I couldn’t beat Rodric, but I knew someone who could. Someone who could train me. Someone who was rumored to be the best swordsman in the desert.
I shook my head. The heat must have gone to my mind. I couldn’t ask a Desert Boy to help me.
I wouldn’t.
They’d murdered my mother and the baby boy my mother had barely had time to deliver. Asking them for help would be too close to forgiveness, and they would never get that from me.
I turned my back on the desert, leaning against the railing. What if I went there to kill Cion? My father and Rodric would have to see I was a force to be reckoned with. My father would realize I was capable of ruling. I’d become the source of my own legends, the one who took down a legend. My father would see me as the desert’s choice. He’d have to.
The only flaw in my plan was that I couldn’t beat Cion any more than I could Rodric. The scene at the well had proved that. I sighed.
It all came down to what I hated more, the Desert Boys or the idea of marrying Rodric. They both seemed bent on destroying the people and letting them die of thirst. At least with the Desert Boys, I wouldn’t have to marry one of them, and there was still a chance I could help the people. And after I beat Rodric, I could figure out what to do with the Desert Boys.
I groaned. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this. Not only did this go against everything I’d ever held dear, but it was practically suicidal. Cion would no sooner let me face him with a sword than he’d make his bed on top of a yellow-spotted sand snake’s hole. Rodric’s own words bounced back at me. The only thing worse than him killing me would be if the Desert Boys did it.
But what choice did I have? If I was going to stay, I needed help. No one here would train me. Cion was my only shot at keeping my promise to my mother, and my love for her outweighed my hate for him. I’d take the lead from her. I would forgive with words and not swords. I could never forgive the Desert Boys for her death, but I could at least approach them without hostility. I could bargain with them somehow. Give them access to one of the wells in exchange for Cion training me.
If I was going to leave, it had to be before Rodric stationed more guards around me. It had to be now. I couldn’t risk going through the palace. People would question why I’d put on my gladiator gear.
Before I could rethink what I planned to do, I moved to the side of the balcony and scanned for handholds. The palace was built out of clay bricks baked in the desert heat. Like everything else in the city, sand had found its way into the small cracks and crevices. Bits had begun to crumble enough for small holes to appear down the wall. I climbed over the railing and anchored my foot on the first ridge I found.
Then I waited. My path would take me down to the balcony Rodric had been talking on earlier, but it was the fastest route. From there, I could hop from one balcony to another until I reached the corner of the palace where there was the most decay.
When no sound echoed upward, I slid down the wall and landed on the balcony. For once I was thankful for the layer of sand that covered everything. It muffled my landing.
I crouched low against the wall away from the railing in case any guards looked upward.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t leave through the palace gate. It’s just that I had no reason to. At least no reason that wouldn’t tip off Rodric when he was given the nightly report of any notables who’d gone in or out. I didn’t plan on being on that list. I’d climb over the wall, using the decayed pattern as my handholds if I had to.
I listened at the open archway that led inward from the balcony. I didn’t hear anyone inside, so I dashed past the opening, hopped onto the railing, and vaulted to the next balcony. I somersaulted across it as I came down. I shook sand out of my hair and kept going. My leg stung, but I ignored it.
I crouched low on the wall lining the balcony and looked down. I was only two balconies away from the corner of the palace, but if I missed my landing the overall drop was high enough that it would kill me. Steeling myself, I jumped to the next balcony, sending up a spray of sand where I landed. I rose to my feet, and then froze.
A voice echoed behind me. “Kateri? What are you doing over there?” Rodric said.
I didn’t hesitate, and I didn’t look back. I leapt to the next balcony and frantically scanned for cracks in the clay blocks.
Rodric’s weight thudded onto the balcony separating us. “I knew you’d run away scared.”
I scrambled to find a hole in the wall big enough for my hands. Finding the biggest crack I could, I shoved my hands into it and slipped over the edge of the railing. My fingers burned from clasping bricks that had absorbed sunlight all day long, and I forced myself to hang on as my feet kicked against the wall.
I finally found a small indent my toes could slide into. I steadied myself and examined the wall for the next handhold. I’d just transitioned my hands lower when a fist sank into the wall where my head had been.
Chunks of clay spilled down. Through the mess, I could make out Rodric grabbing for me. His hand found my bun, and he ripped upward as I pulled downward. I nearly lost my grip, but I managed to jerk free, my hair spilling loose around me.
I quickly dropped down, forcing my hands to find places to grasp. I was so lost in the movement of finding a secure hold and transferring my weight to it that I didn’t realize Rodric had disappeared from view.
It wasn’t until I touched the ground and dashed toward the wall that I realized where he’d gone. He sped down the steps of the palace facing me, a stream of guards at his heels.
I backpedaled, heading straight for the palace gate.
Over my shoulder, I heard Rodric shout for the gate to be closed. I didn’t bother wasting any breath to contradict his orders. These men answered to him.
Thankfully, the guards seemed confused by all the sudden commotion. They scrambled to close the gate as I approached.
It sank lower and lower.
Rodric’s footfalls sounded loudly in my ears. He always was faster than me. I forced my legs to pump harder. It suddenly felt like the air was full of sand.
The gate was two feet from the ground when I dove forward and rolled under. Rodric crashed into it behind me.
“Up,” he shouted. “Raise it up.” He pulled on it, rattling it, but even his brute strength couldn’t rip it from its moorings.
I heaved and scrambled to my feet. That gate wouldn’t hold him back for long.
“I’ll find you!” he shouted, spraying spit through the bars. “This kingdom will be mine.”
I fled toward the desert.