Page 36 of Blood of the Sands

I never had the heart to tell her that her lack of magic saved her from the burdens of being in his confidence—from the weight of understanding our mission in its entirety and the pain of his mentorship. Perhaps that is why she ran miles every morning before the rest of the riders came to train. To hone her body so thoroughly that her lack of magic was no longer a weakness.

“Nothing of importance.” I paused in my forms, resting my hands on my knees as I breathed deeply. My practice left me oddly winded today.

Izumi’s eyes flashed, and a muscle in her jaw ticked. “Maybe instead you should be discussing better ways to protect us from the wrath of the desert.”

I flinched. I knew the importance of our mission better than most—better than even Izumi, perhaps, but the writhing of my magic and memories of a feral exiled woman had distracted me from our recent setbacks.

Izumi glared at me now, clearly not suffering from the same distractions. While I shied away from very little, her gaze was hot enough to scorch, and I wondered what it would have been like to be on the receiving end of matching glares before her identical twin had been lost to the wrath of the desert.

“I will speak to him of increased measures to protect the clans until we can ride on Kelvadan,” I said.

Izumi nodded. “Tell him I’ll be happy to assist in whatever way he sees fit. I betrayed my people to make him lord because I believed he could heal the desert.”

I felt the hurt in her voice in my own chest. She had marked herself a betrayer, fighting against the riders of Clan Katal that stayed loyal to the former lord when Lord Alasdar made his bid for power. After the death of her twin, I had watched Lord Alasdar easily fill her with fervor, turning her grief into anger against Kelvadan—the root of all our issues. Still, she seemed to itch for his acceptance, glaring at me every time I was summoned privately to Lord Alasdar’s tent.

Words formed on my tongue.

I may have Lord Alasdar’s confidence, but he is all I have. Do not envy me.

Such words were not fitting of the Viper.

“You will serve him by riding against Kelvadan with us.”

She pursed her lips, and I could tell she was dissatisfied, but she let the issue drop.

I sat outside under the stars, looking into a fire. The warmth of another person radiated from one side, although they were a few inches away, just close enough that if I leaned my weight, I might brush their shoulder with mine. I rested my chin on my arms where they were folded over my knees, and after a few moments, my companion hummed.

While the melody was a familiar tune, a song often sung by riders around the fire to celebrate a victory, her sense of pitch was terrible, and it surely was a woman based on the tone of her song.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “I’ve heard riders who downed an entire flagon of laka sing that tune better.”

“Then why don’t you sing it,” she shot back.

Neither of us looked at each other.

“I think I would need a flagon of laka before doing that.” Indeed, the song in question had some rather explicit lyrics that I was unlikely to repeat outside of the safety of my tent without some liquid assistance. Not that I ever joined the riders in their celebrations around the fire as it was.

The two of us lapsed into comfortable silence for a long second before she spoke again.

“You’re… in pain?”

The way she said it sounded confused, as if she was surprised by the fact she could tell.

At her words, my attention drifted to my back, where I could still feel the shadow of fire pressing lines into my skin. It felt distant though, as if a veil of silk lay between me and the sensation.

“I needed it,” I responded.

The words came surprisingly easy, the hazy feel of the world around me making them drift out of my head through my mouth nearly unbidden.

“Why?” Her question was innocent.

“Because it makes me strong, so I can do what must be done.”

A rustling came from my side, and I looked out the corner of my eyes to see a long-fingered hand pick up and handful of sand before letting it run out between her fingers.

“I’ve suffered a lot in my life,” she observed. “I don’t know yet if it’s made me strong. Is all that pain noble, or does it just hurt?”

At this, I turned to look at her fully, and met the bottomless eyes of the exiled woman who had lived in the recesses of my mind since her escape. The corners of Keera’s mouth turned down as she looked at my unmasked face.