Page 24 of Blood of the Sands

“Five clans would still not be able to stand against my might,” he spat out.

“Nor mine, but I did not want to decimate forces we will need to destroy Kelvadan.”

“So you let them defy me?” Lord Alasdar’s eyes sparked. I bowed my head.

“I made a deal. They said they would follow the Champion of the Ballan Trials. I will be that Champion.”

The fire remained in his gaze even as he cocked his head. “They would join with Clan Katal if you are the one who wins the Trials.”

“I am your sword,” I admitted honestly. If he would simply point me in a direction, I would kill whomever he wished. I was the Viper and little else. “Besides, you are the rightful Champion to anybody who follows the old ways already.”

This seemed to placate Lord Alasdar, and he leaned back on his hands, although his eyes remained narrowed as he observed me.

“You will have to go to Kelvadan for the Trials, be under the queen’s watchful eye.”

“I will do what I must,” was my only reply. I did not relish camping in the shadow of the city for the duration of the Trials, but I had endured worse. Lord Alasdar had ensured I could be strong.

He nodded, expression already shuttering off. I could nearly see him recalculating his plan, always the one who was two steps ahead, allowing me to simply be a weapon.

“You will need to continue training the riders in the meantime and shape the forces we have already into a force that can take on Kelvadan. We can’t afford to be starting from scratch when the rest of the clans arrive. I expect to see you conditioning them every day until the Trials.”

I understood the command as the dismissal it was and nodded my assent before departing. Alza and I had ridden all day to get back to the encampment, and now the shadows of the tents stretched long across orange-stained sands as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

As night fell, I sat in my tent, sharpening my saber and my dirk. The encampment stirred outside with people cooking around communal fires, riders coming back from a day of training to linger in groups. A feminine giggle from a joke some warrior told drifted through the fabric of my tent flap. I dragged the whetstone more forcefully across the long, subtle curve of my saber, drowning out the sounds of camaraderie with the metallic shink. The whisper in my mind grew louder, as if trying to call out to me even as I ignored it.

Nights like these reminded me why I preferred camping in the wilds with only Alza for company. Hearing people around me only reminded me how I was other—the Viper charged with leading the riders but never one of them.

It made me want to leave on my mask, the constant physical representation of my separation from those around me. The exhaustion from my travels wore on me, and I chided myself, unfastening the metal from my face. Tonight, I would rest, and in the morning, I would train alongside the riders of the united clans, continuing with my mission of healing the shattered desert.

Just as darkness was about to overtake me, blissfully silencing my mind, my heart stuttered in my chest. I shot bolt upright as magic surged through me, unbidden and without warning. My skull was too small for the power that surged in my head, and I plunged my hands into my hair tugging at it like it would alleviate some of the pressure.

I screwed my eyes shut, leashing my magic through sheer force of will, as if I was taming a wild horse, just as I had Alza. Pounding a closed fist on my thigh, I focused on the dull ache it caused in my flesh, letting it pull me back into my body where my mind had moments ago threatened to scatter over the desert.

As the magic receded from my body, settling back into the incessant whisper I had learned to tolerate, the stirring air in my tent from the disturbance settled. A faint taste of panic lingered in my mouth, but distant, as if it weren’t really mine. I breathed in and out through my nose, pounding my fist into my thigh a few more times for good measure. Pain was one of the best antidotes to my uncontrolled magic I had found, although it had been years since I had lost my grip on it with no warning.

These days, the magic of the desert stirred restlessly, and it dragged me along with it.

Chapter Ten

Keera

Istared at my feet as two guards marched me further inside the palace. Even as they flanked me and ushered me through the cavernous stone hallway, a strange sense of calm washed over me. The sensation seemed to be coming from beyond me, slowing my heart rate and breathing even as thoughts crashed through my mind.

I would be lucky to be exiled again at this point. More likely I would be killed for endangering the queen’s guests, showing how the desert had cursed me.

The queen led her guards and me into a lavish sitting room and slumped down on a couch, somehow making the movement look composed even as the silks of her dress fluttered down around her in disarray.

“Wait outside,” she commanded to the guards who bowed and backed out of the room.

I stood in the middle of a plush carpet, wringing my hands as I wrestled with my confusion. The queen tilted her head as she observed me, taking me in.

“What clan are you from?”

I swallowed heavily. “I have no clan.”

“But you are from the Ballan Desert.”

Her tone indicated it was not a question, but I nodded anyway. She paused, and the silence stretched until it threatened to snap my sanity.