Page 97 of Heart of the Desert

My heart only lifted slightly as I saw many kneeling by the cool oasis taking long slow gulps of water from their cupped hands, before moving on to filling empty water skins and barrels. This had been a fight for survival, and victory had cost us nearly everything.

An open stretch near the center of camp had been claimed by the healers from each clan, and the injured who could be saved were laid out on mats in rows so they could be tended to. As cries and moans filled the air, mingling with the smell of blood and death, my chest felt so empty that it might have been my heart that was stolen instead of the desert’s.

Perhaps the price had been too high.

Pain drifted down the tether from the scene I had left behind, with Erix knelt at Alza’s side as she struggled. I didn’t know if she would carry him again—or even heal enough to live a suitable life for a creature who could not survive without the freedom to run.

But it also reminded me why I had torn myself from Erix’s side when all I wanted to do was stay and comfort him.

I had led these people into battle, and now I had to stand at their side in the aftermath. The quiet pain of loss was as much the essence of the desert as the screaming fury of battle, and I would share in it with them.

I looked around for a way I might be useful, frustrated that I had not received any healing gifts from the desert as I took in the brutal injuries. The air stirred beside me as Aderyn appeared at my shoulder. Where I expected her expression to be grim in the face of the carnage, I found her eyes wide with fear, despite the danger now being passed.

She scanned down the rows of the injured almost frantically.

“What’s wrong?”

“Somebody told me Neven rode into battle with Erix, and I haven’t seen him.” Her voice was firm and clipped, betraying how hard a grip she had on her emotions to keep them in check.

I too began scanning the rows of injured, looking closer at their faces, alert for any signs of dark braids bedecked with decorative beads.

“I’ll search with—”

Before I could finish, a desperate shout that was half joy, half relief split the air. Neven appeared on the far side of the crowded space. A man leaned on his shoulder as he helped him hobble on an injured leg. A healer quickly took Neven’s place so he could extricate himself.

Then he was dashing through the infirmary, almost leaping over mats to get to where we stood. People jumped out of his way, watching as they cleared a path between Neven and his wife. Aderyn leaned forward as if she wanted to rush to him too, but she trembled so forcefully, I feared that she would collapse if she tried to take a step.

Then he was on her, throwing his arms around her and holding her so tightly, I feared he might crush her. But she didn’t seem to mind as she hugged him back and buried her face in his chest despite the dust and grime and unknowable smudges that marred his usually immaculate clothes.

As I stepped out of the way to give them space for their reunion, I saw Neven’s eyes, which had been screwed shut with emotion, suddenly widen—as if his brain were suddenly catching up to his vision.

Holding Aderyn by the shoulders, he separated them just a few inches and looked down. There was no mistaking the swell of Aderyn’s belly. I truly didn’t know how she had fought so well as it stuck out like a melon, stark against the rest of her muscular form.

“Is it…” He trailed off in wonder.

Aderyn’s brows drew together, and her eyes glistened. “I didn’t know when I left… I’m so sorry—”

Neven cut her off, letting go of her shoulders to hold her cheeks. “No apologizing. I refuse to let there be any regrets in one of the happiest moments of my life.”

Aderyn blinked, and one of her tears spilled over, making a trail through the dust down her cheek.

As one of the strongest women to walk the face of the earth cried in both happiness and relief, I felt my own eyes welling and my throat burning. A few sniffles around me told me I was not alone.

Neven leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Aderyn’s. Carefully, she reached up and grabbed one of his wrists before lowering it to her stomach. I just heard his sharp intake of wonder and guessed the baby must have kicked in greeting to its father.

And just like that, in the middle of death and pain, life and light sprung forward—tiny and fragile, but still strong enough to stop grown warriors in their tracks.

Such was the way of the desert. The harsh conditions that could fell even the strongest hunters and leave behind bleached skeletons as a warning that only the strong survived would suddenly give way to the delicate bloom of a larrea flower.

I thought of the flowers on the hilt of my knife. I thought of Alyx, who they had been put there for, trapped somewhere unknowable in the seamless cycle of life and death.

All at once, I knew how I would keep going in the face of such loss—why I had to keep going, no matter the cost. And so, I turned away from Aderyn and Neven, ready to face down death as I looked for a way to help the healers with their bloody tasks.

I had been so focused on my job holding a rider of Clan Jal steady as a healer stitched up a nasty gash on his thigh, that I nearly missed the commotion and shouts as somebody ran into the camp.

“Clear a path!”

“Found her on the ground—”