When the boy finally stilled, Yassen let him sit up.
“If you help us, we won’t turn you in for stealing this cruiser and taking berries from Her Majesty’s desert,” Yassen said.
“It’s not the Ravani’s desert,” the boy spat.
“It’s not the Jantari’s either,” Yassen said. “But if we stay here any longer, the soldiers will find us. So help us, and we’ll help you.”
“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” the boy said to Elena. “I saw it in my holos before the storm broke my receptor.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Yassen said. “Help us get into Jantar, and we won’t kill you.”
“We invaded Ravence,” the boy continued, looking up at Elena. “It’s all Jantar now, the capital, the desert, and soon the southern cities. They’re fighting back, your people. Even the Landless King’s army is defending your southern border, but he’s dead too.”
“Samson’s dead?” Yassen said, his voice hitching.
A part of him had hoped that Samson survived. Just like he had survived after defecting from the Arohassin. Samson was a fighter. He could claw and scrounge his way through anything. But deep down, Yassen had already known that he had burned, too.
Damn this desert. Damn this forsaken land. Damn its fire. Damn it all.
“Get us into Jantar, or he’ll kill you now,” Elena said bluntly.
The boy turned to Yassen, his brow furrowing as he took in Yassen’s pale eyes, his golden hair. “Aren’t you Jantari?”
Yassen flinched. “No,” he said roughly as he felt Elena staring at him. “I’m Ravani.”
“What’s your name?”
“Yassen. And yours?”
“Cian.”
The boy stood slowly. Elena motioned, and they pulled the cruiser out of the bramble. She swept off the thorns and hopped on, patting the seat in front of her.
“Any trick and I’ll know,” Elena said. “The desert will know.”
Yassen sat behind Elena as Cian slid into the front seat. He revved the engine, and they shot forward, leaving the canyon behind them. Instead of heading east, Cian banked south. They went over a ridge of burnt stone and skirted a sandpit that hissed as they passed.
Yassen kept his eyes trained on the horizon in search of a scout, but none came. Cian led them into a valley and stopped in its bowl. He hopped off, heading toward a boulder the size of a winged ox. Yassen tensed, but Elena rested her hand on his knee.
“Wait,” she said.
They watched the boy disappear behind the boulder. Shortly after, the rocks rumbled and the boulder slid a few feet to the left, revealing a passage just big enough for the cruiser.
Cian jogged back to them.
“So the Jantari built tunnels too,” Elena mused as he hopped back on. “How many are there?”
“More than I know.”
They sped into the darkened tunnel, the boulder groaning as it rolled back into place, sealing them in. The space was long and narrow, and Yassen ducked as they swerved right, barely missing a ledge of rock.
They rode for what seemed like hours, following twisting passages that held no markings before the darkness lightened. Cian slowed the cruiser and stopped underneath an opening; Yassen could make out rusted rungs leading up to a pinpoint of light.
“We have to climb,” Cian said.
“Where does it lead?” Elena asked.
“Just inside Jantar, to the shacks,” he said.
