“Easy now,” Alarik murmured, already moving to catch him.
Kaelen didn’t protest—not even a joke to mask the pain. Just a faint grunt, barely conscious, as he slipped an arm around his waist and eased him down from the horse.
Alarik’s jaw tightened as he guided him toward the shade of a rock outcrop, each step a grim reminder of how close they’d come to losing him.
“Here.” He lowered Kaelen carefully, bracing him against the warm stone.
A sharp breath wheezed out as Kaelen sank, head tipping back against the rock. His skin was like parchment beneath a sheen of sweat, his pale lips dry and cracked.
Reiya was already kneeling beside him, uncorking a waterskin. “Drink,” she ordered, pressing the opening to his lips.
Kaelen grimaced but obeyed, taking a few sips before coughing weakly.
“More,” she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.
He took another slow gulp and coughed.
Reiya pulled out a dry graincake from her satchel, breaking off a piece and pressing it against his lips. “Eat.”
Kaelen turned his head away. “Don’t . . . want?—”
“You need strength to fight this.” She nudged the food closer.
Alarik let out a short, dry chuckle. “Might as well listen, brother. You know she’s not going to let this go.”
Kaelen muttered something under his breath but parted his lipsand bit off a small piece of the graincake, swallowing with visible effort.
She didn’t stop there. From the folds of her shawl, she retrieved a small vial—the tonic Ru Rong had brewed the night before. The elder woman didn’t know the precise prescription for sandshrike venom’s antidote, but she’d concocted together a few herbs and ingredients good for cleansing the body.
Kaelen eyed it warily. “That . . . looks awful.”
“It doesn’t matter what it looks like,” Reiya insisted. “Drink it.”
His moue of distaste deepened, but she uncorked the bottle and pressed it to his lips, tipping just enough to force him to swallow.
He spluttered, his face one of pure disgust. “Tastes like . . . horse piss.”
Her expression remained unmoved. “Oh? Didn’t realize you were an expert on that.”
Alarik smirked despite himself. Kaelen scowled but took another swig, though his nose wrinkled like she’d just poisoned him further. Finished, his head lolled back against the rock, his breath slowing as exhaustion pulled at him.
Alarik watched for a moment before glancing at the sky. The midday sun was relentless, the heat radiating off the dunes in shimmering waves. Their horses stood nearby, tails flicking against sand flies, their ears twitching.
For now, it was quiet.
He exhaled and settled against the rock, letting the moment stretch. He wasn’t fool enough to close his eyes, but he allowed himself a few minutes of stillness, his body tuned to every shift in the air, every distant sound carried on the wind.
Kaelen dozed, his fevered murmurs quieting into uneasy sleep. Reiya sat beside him, watching him closely, brushing the hair sticking to his damp forehead.
The desert stretched wide before them, its golden dunes rippling like an endless sea, the sky vast and piercingly blue. Alarik had lived his whole life beneath this sky, had ridden through these sands more times than he could count. He knew how quickly the desert could turn—from merciless heat to frigid cold, from dead silence to the roar of an oncoming sandstorm.
But the first hint of danger came as a whisper. A distant tremor in the ground. The faintest shift in the wind.
His instincts flared. Sitting up, his gaze snapped toward the horizon.
Something wasn’t right.
Then he heard it: hooves. Faint, but unmistakable.
