Page 68 of Heart of the Desert

“They are from beyond the mountains,” I pointed out. “Their homeland is far from here.”

It wasn’t just that Warrick’s men kept to themselves that made the divide between the camps sharp. They were dressed differently than the clansmen—armor made of metal and rings adorning clothing far too fitted and containing too much leather to be comfortable in the heat of the desert. None of them had hoods draped around their shoulders, and the swords at their hips were not curved, many with a fuller running down the middle of a broad blade. Even their hair marked them as different, many wearing it long and braided, with woven beards to match, some adorned with beads, although none wore earrings.

I glanced sidelong at Elion, with his clean-shaven head and golden hoops glimmering in both ears. The furrow between his brows was deep.

“They should not be here,” he insisted.

“They should not,” I agreed.

“We must force them to leave,” he pushed. “We have horses, and they do not. A raid on their camp in the middle of the night—show them how fierce the clans can really be—will send them running for their homeland.”

I grimaced. I had hoped in my first moments of attempting to unite the clans as a high lord, I would not have to oppose one of the lords I had been counting on to support me and Keera.

“We can’t afford to make enemies of their people. Izumi invited him here, and attacking him would be an act of war. One war is enough for the desert to be getting on with.”

It would have been better if Warrick had never come, but now that he was here, we needed to figure out how to rid ourselves of him. Allying with him would only give him the chance to stab us in the back when we were weakest, but we could not afford to lose any riders to the cause of driving him away. Diplomacy was the best way forward.

“Riders of the sands do not shy away from bloodshed.” Elion’s arms flexed, making the hyena inked on his bicep seem like it was snarling.

“You have been instrumental to uniting the clans. It seemed to me that you would be among the most likely to understand diplomacy.”

Elion sighed, a modicum of tension leaving his posture even as he remained on alert.

“It is easier to trust people I understand,” he admitted. “Even now that Dhara finds my bed when she thinks you aren’t looking, I think sometimes she might stab me with one of her many knives if it suited her. But in many ways, she thinks like me. She is a lord who loves her sword and her horse and her freedom. These men may stab me, but I have no way of knowing when or where.”

“You seem to trust me,” I pointed out.

“You are of the desert.”

“I was raised in the city. As was Aderyn. The ways of the clans were foreign to me until I was an adult. I only played kaman for the first time when I joined you and Clan Tibel.”

Elion grunted. “If they play kaman as fiercely as you and Keera, then perhaps I will trust them more.”

“We can challenge them to a match if it would make you feel better. But we don’t have to trust them. We just have to try and convince them to head back to their home without drawing our blades. Perhaps they can be made to see that this land is hostile and foreign and not worth the losses it would take to conquer.”

“And if they refuse to leave?” Elion asked.

“Then you will be glad for Dhara’s tendency to carry more knives than she has fingers.”

Elion snorted. I stood and turned to head back to my sleeping mat. He did not follow but continued to sit and stare at the visitors on our shore.

Chapter twenty-four

Keera

Tension hung thick in the air, almost tangible, like walking through spiderwebs, as Erix and I approached the clearing at the center of the encampment. Five large tents formed the edges, each bearing the sigil of the clan lord who resided within: The jackrabbit, the red wolf, the horned lizard, the snake, and the scorpion. The sight of the last made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My former lord lived within, although I did not know if she would even recognize me.

I had avoided thinking about it as much as possible, but staring down the maroon emblem of Clan Padra, I could no longer escape the thought that my parents were in this very encampment. My skin burned hot even as my blood ran cold. Thinking about facing them made me feel like the young girl I had been when they left me, angry and scared. But I was approaching this confrontation as a warrior and a leader.

Erix’s shoulder bumped mine, drawing me from my thoughts, and I knew the touch was intentional. Dhara, Elion, and Aderyn walked at our backs as we marched into the clearing. I lifted my chin as we stopped in the center of the circle.

“We seek an audience with the lords of this encampment,” Erix shouted, loud enough to be heard inside the tents.

Izumi emerged first, Badha following hot on her heels. Normally, a warlord would stand at their lord’s back, signifying their fealty and protecting them from attacks from behind. Instead, though, Badha stood to Izumi’s left, and I didn’t miss the way their pinkies just barely brushed even as Izumi kept her right hand on her sword.

It seemed many traditions of the Ballan Desert were being challenged today.

The Lords of Ratan, Caillte, and Miran followed, all standing in various wary postures, with arms folded or hands resting on pommels. I tried not to let my eyes flick nervously to the flap of the tent bearing the banner of Clan Padra. But then it rippled and Lord Nathaira emerged.