Page 74 of Crown of the Dunes

“Could you convince the archons to let me venture outside the city walls?” I asked.

Keera lifted her head from her hands and twisted to look at me. “Possibly. After your support at the coronation, I could likely convince them you’ve earned a higher degree of trust.”

“I can help with the irrigation systems if I’m allowed to go to the fields,” I said. “After all, you know moving rocks is my specialty.”

A spark of that mesmerizing hope appeared in Keera’s golden eyes. “You wouldn’t get to throw these rocks at people, you know.”

“I’ll do my best to refrain,” I promised. I itched for the chance to get beyond the city walls, the weeks within the stone barrier making me want to claw at my skin. Already, the skin around my nails was picked raw and bloody.

“Thank you,” Keera murmured, scooting up the bed and reaching out to rest a hand on my cheek.

I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch. This was why I had chosen to stay in this prison of a city.

My feet were heavy as I trudged across the dry earth toward the city. Heat lingered on my face, telling me I had a sunburn after hours in the grain fields near Kelvadan—an odd sensation after protecting my face with a mask every time I was outside for a decade. My limbs ached with exhaustion, and the lingering sparks of magic danced under my skin from hours using both my power and my muscles to clear fallen rocks from the irrigation systems.

Despite the fatigue in my body, I hadn’t been ready to stop.

The engineers and the farmers had eventually insisted it was time to go home for the night, and I was forced to follow them back toward the prison of the city walls. After weeks separated from the wildness of the desert by thick layers of stone, I reveled in being out under the open sky stretching endlessly in every direction.

In the purple light of dusk, the air cooled rapidly, and shivers of activity ran through the web of life that was the desert as her nocturnal creatures awoke to take advantage of the respite from burning heat. Fennec foxes poked their noses from their burrows and Omani owls took to the air.

I wished I could join them.

Instead, a shiver ran up my spine as the gates of Kelvadan creaked open to allow the returning workers to enter, and I stepped onto the unnaturally smooth stone ground of the city. I stood rooted in the courtyard, and all the farmers hurried around me back to their homes, like I was a boulder interrupting the flow of a stream.

Looking up the winding road that would lead me up through the stacked layers of the city, I told myself that I should follow their lead and head home for the night. But my mind skipped and skittered over the word home.

The palace was not my home. My home might live there, but I could only visit her in the secret of the night, and the other hours of the day, I was haunted by the ghosts that walked the winding stone hallways. The palace of Kelvadan was now equal parts home and prison, and I was loathe to return so soon.

Keera would likely not be in her room for many hours yet, returning later every night as she gave more and more of her time to the archons and ambassadors who looked to her to save the city.

As I contemplated the stretch of time between now and when I could climb into Keera’s bed and hold her to my chest, the sounds of chattering and laughter met my ear. I looked toward where they came from, finding warm light streaming out of a nearby doorway. The sounds of comradery from within were what I would expect to hear around an encampment fire as food and stories were shared—although I had never partaken, only eating alone in my tent where I could remove my mask without being seen.

Now I drifted toward the open door curiously, ducking inside to find what appeared to be a gathering place for people in the city after their hard day’s work. I hovered in the doorway, undecided if I should turn and leave, but somehow unable to persuade myself to walk further into the room. As I hesitated, a young girl, barely a woman, approached me. I reared back at the warm smile on her face, but apparently she did not recognize me.

“Can I get you some laka?” She asked kindly. The smile on her face faltered as she continued. “I am afraid I can’t offer you a warm meal. We seem to have run out for the night already.”

My sore muscles throbbed, and I almost spun on my heel and marched back out to the grain fields to continue working. Instead, I just nodded.

“Laka is fine.”

She hurried away, and I convinced myself to walk further inside, finding an empty spot at a shadowed table in one corner and sitting cross legged on one of the cushions scattered around it. In a few moments, the girl returned and set an earthenware cup before me with a smile before hurrying off.

I brought it to my lips and took the smallest sip of the nutty liquid, blinking rapidly. I had clearly not inherited either of my parents’ resistance to liquor. Still, the warm smell of it was comforting. I cradled the cup in two hands and took in the hustle and bustle in the room before me.

It was odd to be ignored, and I took the opportunity to watch the way the farmers and traders greeted each other and exchanged gossip. When I lived in Kelvadan in my youth, none chattered easily around me, instead tapping their fingers to their brows and falling silent in respect. As the Viper, I had not been welcomed around fires either, and many would give me a wide berth. Now though, nobody seemed to know who I was, and I let myself sink back into the shadowy corner.

While the chatter seemed lively, looking closer, I saw hollows beneath many eyes. It didn’t escape my notice how many of the workers grimaced when asked how their day had gone. These people were not untouched by the conflict and hunger here in the desert.

A figure shadowed the doorway, and my gaze caught on a familiar face. A young woman looked around as if trying to locate somebody, and I lowered my head as it struck me where I had seen her before. Just two nights ago, Keera had stood in the doorway and blocked this same woman from entering her room, saying she did not need any attending to.

But she wasn’t able to shoo the new attendant—Adette—from the room before our eyes met over Keera’s shoulder. I had almost stayed away for a few nights after that, but Keera had insisted she would explain to Adette that I had been there on a matter of official business. Still, worry gnawed at my chest how Kelvadan’s citizens would react if the attendant chose to spread the news that the fallen prince was a frequent nighttime visitor of the queen’s chambers. Those who already opposed her rule might latch on to it like a hyena targeting the weakest oryx in a herd—they could use it to throw her judgement into doubt, or spin tails that I was not as beaten as I once appeared.

Adette seemed to locate who she sought, but she did not smile. Instead, her eyes took on a hard glint, and she raised her chin as she strode across the room. My gaze caught on the way her hands trembled, but she tucked them behind herself as if to hide her fear.

She stopped before a man who looked away from his drink and sneered. From the color in his cheeks, it wasn’t his first cup of laka. They exchanged a few words, and my hackles rose at the way he crowded into her space. She tried to back away, but there wasn’t much space in the crowded quarters. As she responded to something he said, she put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away.

His hands shot out and caught her wrists pulling her toward him. The voices in my mind, which had been relegated to the edges of my consciousness, now flared to the forefront. I grit my teeth against them, and my nostrils flared as I tried to focus on the exchange.