She would have to survive this without her sister.
“Roa!” Lirabel’s frantic voice called through the wind.
Roa spun to find her friend—her skarf gone, her long black curls glittering with golden sand.
“He wouldn’t listen!” She clutched her knees, breathing hard. “Oleander spooked and... Roa, he’s gone after her!”
Roa peered through the air, growing thicker by the heartbeat. Squinting hard, she could just make out two shapes in the distance beyond the camp: Dax and a horse.
The king didn’t know the first thing about surviving a sandstorm.
Rule number one? Never leave camp.
Nearby, the cook madly tried to pack up their food. Roa grabbed her arm, stopping her, then reached into one of the still-open sacks until her hand found a crisp red apple.
Snatching it up, she tucked it into the pocket of Dax’s mantle, then ran to where Jas was retying the one horse he’d been able to catch. Grabbing Poppy, Roa mounted and dug her bare heels into the horse’s flanks. Poppy sped off at a gallop, whipping sand into Roa’s eyes.
She could barely see Dax in the distance, shirtless and heading into the storm.
Stupid, foolish boys and their stupid, foolish notions...
Didn’t he know how deadly it was to breathe in all that sand? It would fill his lungs and suffocate him.
“Dax!” she screamed. But the wind snatched his name right out of the air.
Oleander, a russet mare, galloped away from Dax whenever he got close, taking them farther away from camp. And thefarther they got from camp, the closer the wall of sand got to them.
Roa and Poppy raced harder.
“Dax!”
This time he turned, lifting his bare arm and wincing as the sand sliced his skin. His eyes met hers—the only part of her face visible beneath the sandskarf she wore. She held the apple aloft, showing him what she was about to do, then hurled it in his direction.
Miraculously, he caught it.
The red-gold swell swallowed the rising sun and the sky darkened. Poppy, sensing danger, whinnied. Hearing it, Oleander flicked her ears, then looked at the apple in Dax’s hand.
Roa closed the gap.
Poppy’s hooves halted. Oleander came to Dax, taking the apple in her huge teeth. The instant she did, Dax grabbed her reins and launched himself onto her back.
A crack of thunder split the sky. Poppy reared, frightened, and Roa would have slid off if Dax hadn’t reached his arm across her back, his warm hand steadying her.
With both horses under control and the storm growing behind them, Roa nudged Poppy into a gallop. Dax and Oleander kept pace with them.
They raced back to camp.
As Roa glanced toward the king, Dax caught her gaze. All trace of that witless boy was gone. In his place was someone else. Someone Roa almost recognized.
The wall of sand roared at their backs. The king and queen broke their gazes, leaning into their horses, urging themfaster.
They hit the camp, racing through the billowing tents. Roa reached for Oleander’s reins, halting both their horses at the same time.
As one, they dismounted.
The wall of sand hit, drenching them in utter darkness, and the temperature plummeted.
Roa squeezed her eyes shut and breathed into the cotton sandskarf. They had two choices now. They could blindly go in search of a tent and hope they didn’t miss, or stay where they were. The first choice was more dangerous—they could walk right out of the camp without knowing, get lost in the storm, and never be found.
