So Roa yanked on Poppy’s reins, making her get down on all fours, then did the same with Oleander. Once both horses were down, she reached for Dax, her fingers closing tightly around his bare arm. As the sand stung her face, she slid her hand down to his wrist, then his palm. Threading their fingers together, she kept her other hand on Poppy’s flank, making her way to the mare’s leeward side, bringing Dax with her. Using Poppy as both a shield and a heat source, Roa dropped to her knees, forcing Dax to do the same.
The sand stung her skin. Soon it would start shredding it. In the cold and the darkness, she pushed Dax against Poppy, then tugged off the mantle she wore—hismantle—before dropping into his lap.
“Cover yourself with this!” The sandskarf muffled her voice as she shoved the wool garment into his hands.
Dax’s arm curled around her, pulling her against him as he swept the thick wool over them both, keeping them shieldedfrom the shrieking storm. When Roa started to shiver from the cold, Dax’s arms tightened around her.
With her cheek pressed to his heart, Roa closed her eyes and prayed.
She prayed this was the kind of storm that threw a single shrill tantrum and died out quickly... not the kind that raged for days and swallowed you alive.
What felt like both years and heartbeats later, Poppy relaxed, sighing behind them. Roa listened carefully, noticing a difference in the wind. It still screamed, just not so angrily. The sand still whipped, but it no longer hurt.
Soon enough, the wind stopped.
The sand settled.
The storm died.
As the world fell still, Roa lifted her cheek from Dax’s chest. His arms loosened around her as she pushed off the heavy mantle, then crawled out of his lap.
The sand was cold beneath her palms. But when she looked up, the darkness was gone. The sun blazed above her once more. Roa closed her eyes, letting it shine on her face, thankful to be alive.
Rising, she turned to find Dax covered in a layer of gold. The sight of him, safe, brought a rush of relief—
—followed immediately by anger.
She was about to declare how utterly dangerous it was to chase a horse into a sandstorm, when the sight over his shoulder made the words die on her tongue.
Their camp was... gone.
Before the storm hit, there had been half a dozen brightly colored tents. Now there was nothing but sand.
Roa quickly did a head count. Jas was pulling Lirabel up from the sand. The cook was searching for her pots—which had all been flung away—and the guards and staff were all accounted for.
But the tents were gone and with them, their supplies. Water. Food. Clothing. All of it gone.
Except Poppy and Oleander, even the horses were gone.
Roa knew what it meant to be trapped in the middle of the desert without water or shelter. If they were lucky, they might last two days.
If they were unlucky, they wouldn’t survive the night.
Three Months Previous
Roa was in her father’s study, hiding from the son of the king.
Dax had arrived earlier that day, without any invitation or warning. As Roa paced the room, she wondered how he dared to return, after all this time, expecting a warm welcome. Wondered how he could think to fall so easily back into place here. In Roa’s own house.
The last time they’d seen each other, Roa’s father was dragging him into a windowless room and locking the door.
The last time they’d seen each other, he’d taken something precious from her.
The sight of him—after these eight years—was like swallowing a stone.
At dinner, Dax spoke with her brother, Jas, as if they were old friends instead of enemies. And then, afterward, he offered to help clean up.
Roa nearly spat out her tea.The son of the king,she thought,helping in our kitchen?
