Page 58 of Blood of the Sands

A series of emotions flitted over Keera’s face—shock, anger, guilt—but it settled into a flinty anger. Her expression was so hard she might have been the one wearing the mask.

I pushed forward, strings of my magic tangling unbidden in the swell of power around Keera, pulling conflicted emotions out of the swirl without a thought. “But despite but what Oren did tell you, and the fact that you had a chance to put an end to my time in the Trials, you’re glad we weren’t eliminated. You want to fight me again. And you want to be crowned Champion because that will mean you aren’t a disappointing exiled…nobody anymore.”

It was Keera’s turn to growl, her teeth bared in a snarl as her eyes flashed. “Stop trying to pretend that we are the same. That you understand me.”

She turned on her heel and marched back toward the city gates, a lone dark silhouette across the moon-bleached sands. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled, focusing on the sensation to yank my magic free of hers and shove it back into the confines of my skull. Despite Keera’s wishes, I understood her better than she thought.

Chapter Eighteen

Keera

Daiti pranced happily, in perfect juxtaposition to my sour mood. Exhaustion tugged at me, as I had hardly slept the night before, dwelling on what a mistake I had made in following up on the Viper’s offer to train me. It was one of many mistakes I had made lately.

Every time I tried to close my eyes, tossing and turning to get comfortable in my rooftop nest, Oren’s face would appear on the back of my eyelids. I had only met him once, but I was responsible for his death, just as I was for the clansmen that had been swallowed by a gaping chasm at my feet. I had pointed Oren toward Izumi, thinking she was kind, and all she had given him was a blade through the heart. I clearly wasn’t a capable judge of character. I wouldn’t be sneaking out to see the Viper at night again.

At least Daiti seemed pleased today by the opportunity to venture out further after so long exploring only the plains around Kelvadan. Despite the simmering anger from my encounter with the Viper, I too found my mood lifting the further we rode.

All remaining competitors for the Trials had been instructed to prepare for a two-day journey, as we would be heading a day’s ride out of the city for the next event. Although we wouldn’t find out what the event was until tomorrow morning, it apparently required us to be able to spread out more than was possible just outside the walls of the city.

By now, it was late afternoon, and we had been riding since dawn. Horses less well-bred than Daiti were starting to flag, and the mountains beyond Kelvadan were just jagged peaks on the horizon behind us, the city itself invisible to the naked eye.

I rode at the front of the caravan, near Aderyn, who led the pack out of the city. Sitting tall upon Daiti’s back, the hairs at the nape of my neck prickled. Although I knew the Viper rode at the rear of the pack, where all the other competitors gave him a wide berth, I imagined the weight of his gaze on me often.

Finally, Aderyn held up a closed fist, and the group ground to a halt.

“We will camp here for the night,” she announced.

I looked around, but there appeared to be no distinguishing landmarks indicating this was a predetermined location. Then again, predetermining the location of anything in the Ballan Desert was nearly impossible, with distances morphing and shifting depending on her whim. Perhaps the only stipulation had been that the next event be held a day’s ride out from the city gates.

Everybody dismounted and began staking out a patch of ground in which to set up their camp. Nyra, one of my fellow riders in training at Kelvadan, had not yet been eliminated from the competition either, and I spotted her lifting the bundle that was her small tent from her mount’s back. I started picking my way toward her, but as if she sensed my approach, she looked up suddenly, stiffening as she met my eyes.

I stopped, biting my lips. I doubted she would feel comfortable sleeping near me after what happened with Dryden, despite her being one of the faces I recognized among the remaining competitors. Just as I was about to give up and slip to the edges of the make-shift encampment, a familiar green sash and a hesitant smile caught my gaze.

It was Axlan from my team in the group event. The cautious friendship in his gaze told me he hadn’t entirely noticed my intent to knock him from his saddle and eliminate our team from the Trials, which was likely for the best.

I led Daiti over to him, and he offered a nod of welcome as I began to unload my supplies.

“What do you think we are doing out so far?” he mused as I pulled my small number of packs off Daiti’s back. They held little more than a spare hood and my sleeping mat.

“I couldn’t say,” I admitted.

After that, we lapsed into silence, like the rest of the competitors scattered around the area. While the encampment had been brimming with excitement for the last two nights, the clans and the city dwellers taking the opportunity to trade and drink, now everybody stewed quietly in apprehension. While the Trials were far from over, most of the riders that had entered for nothing more than the right to say they had competed were eliminated. Everybody left sized each other up out of the corner of their eyes, wondering in what ways we were to be set against each other next.

By the time everybody had claimed their square of sand and pitched their tents, Aderyn hovered over a fire in the center of the circle. Around it bustled the two dozen citizens of Kelvadan that had accompanied the riders to aid in the organization of the next event. Notably, the queen had not come. Perhaps she was loathe to leave the city unattended at such a time.

All the competitors drifted toward the fires over which volunteers stirred pots of fragrant stew. We had been instructed not to bother with bringing food in our supplies as we would be fed from the communal fires. A few fruits and a strip of dried meat had still made their way into my saddle bags as I slipped through the kitchen though.

We all ate quietly from the portions that were dished out to us. While some lingered in the common area making stilted conversations, most drifted back to our own areas to eat and contemplate what might be waiting for us. Across the camp, my gaze caught on the dark figure of the Viper ducking into his tent with his bowl, presumably to uncover his face where nobody could see.

Maybe everybody was worried about being well rested for whatever awaited us in the morning, or maybe it was to escape the palpable nervousness in the camp, but everybody began retiring quickly after dinner.

My belly pleasantly full, I laid back in the sand where I sat, jaw cracking with a wide yawn. I would get in my tent soon, but for a moment, I wanted to stare up at the unhindered sky before it was hidden by a canvas roof. The quiet out this far into the sands was deeper, the darkness thicker. It fell over me like a blanket, soft and comfortable. There was nothing but the scent of horses and the dryness of the rapidly cooling air whispering over my skin, peacefully beckoning me toward sleep.

The overwhelming crush of loneliness woke me. Before I even opened my eyes, something told me I was completely and utterly isolated. It was apparent in the frantic pounding of my heart and the swish of the desert’s magic in my core as no life around competed with its hold on me.

I opened my eyes to the thin light and rising heat of late morning. Sitting upright, I clapped my hand to my forehead as my brain tried to batter its way out of my skull. It was the feeling of having drunk too much laka but amplified. I pushed that sensation down in favor of standing and turning in a circle, trying to get my bearings.

There were no bearings to get.