Page 42 of Blood of the Sands

My head spun with all the political machinations hidden beneath the surface of a polite dinner. Perhaps the clans had it right, and a duel of honor would be simpler. I shook the thought from my head though. The harshness of the clans had led to my exile, and the complexities of diplomacy were the price Kelvadan paid for peace.

“Why tell me any of this?” I asked.

“We’re always looking for an advantage over the other,” Hadeon said. “Lyall doesn’t believe in the power that some say lives in these lands, but I figured there is no harm in being on the good side of the supposed Champion of the Desert. Who knows what help it could bring down the line?”

Hadeon smiled at me, the expression easy and polished. I returned the gesture, glad of his confidence even as the power in my gut let out a sleepy growl. Another bet had been placed on me, although it seemed that politicians gambled with fate, not coin. I squared my shoulders against the weight of responsibility—a weight that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day toward the Trials. For years, my only responsibility had been to my own life, and even then, I questioned whether survival was wise. Perhaps these expectations were the price of belonging—of having a home.

For Kelvadan, for my home, I would carry those expectations, no matter how much they chafed.

“Come. I have something to show you.” The queen met me just inside our usual terrace today, cutting me off and heading up the stairs further into the palace, past the levels I had seen before to unknown heights.

I followed her curiously as we climbed and climbed.

The queen’s words came out breathy from the exertion as we walked. “I must admit, the logistics of the Trials have become time consuming lately. Organizing all the challenges is quite a task. I regret that I don’t have more time to help you, but I think I might offer you another way to learn.”

My curiosity piqued, the staircase led around and around until I bordered on dizzy, I assumed winding to the highest spire that crowned the apex of the city.

Finally, we reached a landing facing a set of double doors. I craned my neck to stare at the tapestry above the grand arch. One side depicted a mountain range, and the blue waves of the ocean filled the other edge. Stretching between was golden fabric, the same color as the sands in the midday sun. In the center was the image of a red gemstone emitting rays of light that shot across the tapestry, marked by iridescent threads.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Queen Ginevra asked, following my line of sight. “It was made by the craftsman who trained Neven’s late master. Kelvar commissioned it to hang over the door to his and Alyx’s rooms.”

I glanced over at her, and she nodded.

“These rooms at the top of the palace belonged to the first King and Queen of Kelvadan. Now though, they serve as a reminder of my family’s legacy—and our failures.” She stepped forward and laid one hand on the door but didn’t push on it. Inches above her fingers glittered a pane of red-black glass, so dark I couldn’t see what lay beyond. A matching panel adorned the other of the two doors.

Blood glass.

“Nobody knew as many secrets of the desert as Kelvar, and even he knew frighteningly little. As his moods raged and he became more distracted, he took to shutting himself in these rooms to pore over old scrolls and mutter to himself. These rooms were a haven to him and Alyx, these blood glass panels recognizing only their touch to allow them in.” She ran her fingers over the smooth, dark surface of the glass.

“When Alyx fell ill and finally passed, he wouldn’t even let anybody see her body or remove her from their rooms. She was still in there when he rode out into the desert, never to be seen again. Now this room is a tomb for Kelvadan’s first queen.”

I bowed my head in respect as the queen stared contemplatively at the door before her.

“Everybody speaks of Kelvadan being my grandfather’s legacy, but I like to come up here and consider Alyx and what she might have done. While Kelvar was the greatest warrior ever known, strong in the magic of the desert, this city would not have come to be what it was without Alyx. She had a way of bringing people together, bestowing peace on all she touched. Even Kelvar, who was more storm than human sometimes. The desert gifted her with healing magic, letting her heal Kelvar’s horse and start their love story.”

“She sounds incredible,” I admitted, wondering at the dead queen who lay beyond the thick stone doors, likely no more than bones at this point. The city might not bear her name, but it had been built for her.

“She calmed Kelvar’s madness for years, it only overtaking him when she was gone and he was blinded with grief,” Queen Ginevra’s voice got very quiet. “I’ve always wanted to be like Alyx, but I failed a long time ago.” She took her hand from the door and turned to face me. Her eyes were overbright, but she held her chin high. “When I saw you, troubled by the same power that plagues my family, I knew the desert was giving me a chance to set things right. If I could help you, I would be redeemed.”

“You don’t need redemption,” I said with a shake of my head.

“I wish I could offer you the same wisdom that Alyx would, but I’m going to offer you the next best thing,” the queen told me. “While the rarest and most precious texts Kelvar had remain locked in his chambers, the rest are down one level in the Royal Library’s private collection. I encourage you to read anything you can. Hopefully the same wisdom that Kelvar sought can help you.”

I blinked in shock before remembering myself and tapping my brow with my knuckles in respect. “It would be an honor.”

“I’m not sure a bunch of dusty tomes and scrolls are an honor, but my knowledge can be yours now.” The queen smiled kindly as she led me to down one flight of stairs to a small room filled with shelves. It looked much like her private study down many floors, but the air was mustier, speaking to the age of the books and how often it laid undisturbed.

I lingered there, thumbing through paper as fragile as the skin of an onion, until it grew so dark, I couldn’t make out the figures on the page. I hadn’t made it very far, and I cursed the slowness of my reading.

While I had been taught as a child, reading was a skill that fell by the wayside as I scraped a living out of bare sand. Now, I itched to unravel the legend of Kelvar that might be hidden in these texts and cursed at the way I had to pause and decipher every third word.

From what I could gather, many of the scrolls and books related to one of the most common tales told among the clans: the first crossing of the desert. While it was often told around the Clan Padra firepits in my youth, I pored over it now with renewed intensity.

Crossing the desert had granted the first clan lord the ability to call this wild land his home and the magic that now ran through its people’s veins—the Heart of the Desert. It seemed that Kelvar had become obsessed with uncovering the source of the power that drove him mad. Was the answer to controlling this magic in its origin?

If Kelvar could not figure it out in all his years, then I doubted I would either. Following the trail he left was the best chance I had, though.

Aderyn pursed her lips and stared up at the arched entrance to the city before her. She had pulled her hood low over her face, but I could still see the concern in her gaze.