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Lark stumbled, and I caught his arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” he grumbled. “This sand—it’s like walking in syrup.”
Hewasstruggling. We both were. But Lark had recently recovered from poisoning. He shouldn’t be out here; he should have been resting. “Shall I ask Draven to slow?”
“And have us die once the sun comes up? I don’t need your death on my conscience too.” Lark shook my hand free and stumbled on. “He said they’d do this—said War would turn on me. He told me to leave. He knew. He knew all of it.”
“Who did?”
Lark’s sharp, sideways glance said enough.Razak. “He’s always right,” he snarled.
I wasn’t sure what to say, or where to begin. I knew so little of his past, and the small amount I did know was terrible. Razak, the Prince of Pain, was Lark’s brother. I had no siblings, didn’t know how brothers behaved, but he and Razak had seemed close at the joining celebration, even smiling and leaning toward each other, enjoying their private conversation. Havingfunwhile Razak believed Lark had poisoned all the people around them. Clearly, Razak enjoyed watching other’s squirm for him. Lark had been his prisoner for years.
Razak was… I didn’t have the words to describe the kind of man he was. Had I not met him, not witnessed everything he was capable of, not been his victim, I couldn’t imagine the monster he was. But I had met him. He’d murdered a friend in front of me, he’d threatened my life, and then he’d burned my court to ash, almost killing me in the process. But Lark had suffered worse. His whole life, he’d been trapped under Razak’s affections.
Anything I could say to Lark seemed trivial in the face of all that. Words wouldn’t fix any of it. So I waded on, shivering, aching, hurting for the both of us.
Draven stopped at a rocky outcrop, staring off into the distance. The wind teased his shoulder-length hair back, and the rising moon painted his dark face milky white. The desert warlord belonged among these dunes. This was his land, his people. I’d only just begun to understand what that meant.
Lark slumped on a rock behind Draven, buried his face in his hands, and sighed.
“He all right?” Draven grumbled, noting Lark’s earlier stumbling.
Lark huffed a laugh and swept his hair back from his face. “Just fine, thank you.”
I conveyed my concern to Draven in a frown, without Lark seeing. “Is it much farther?”
“Don’t know.”
Panic flipped my heart. “Don’t you know where we’re going?”
“I do, but I don’t walk it. Nobodywalksit.”
I joined Draven near the edge of the outcrop. The land spreading toward the horizon might as well have been a dreamscape. Rocks pierced the sand in places, like enormous swords. The winds were visible where they brushed waves over dunes. But there wasnothingout there. No sign of life at all. “If you don’t walk it, how do you move around?”
“Kareels, mostly.”
“What’s a kareel?”
“Like a horse,” Lark said from his rocky seat behind us. “But dumber.”
Draven frowned. “They’re desert creatures, perfect for crossing the sand.” He spread his hands. “Wide feet, so they don’t sink.”
“Maybe we should ride you.” Lark snickered.
I smiled at the joke, then caught Draven’s scowl and coughed the grin away. Obviously, this was not the time for jesting.
Impatience and a withering tiredness made Draven’s gaze cool. “If we don’t find shelter, we’ll die.”
“Yes, you said that already.” Lark pushed to his feet. “Come along then,” he said in a sing-song voice. He sauntered from the outcrop and skidded down a dune, then stumbled at the bottom of the sand bowl.
Draven folded his arms, unimpressed. “We should walk along the tops of the dunes. Conserves energy.”
Lark took a few more lumbering steps up the dune and fell onto his hands and knees. He pushed up. “I’m fine!” He didn’t sound fine; he sounded furious.
“You could have mentioned walking the tops of the dunes earlier,” I said.
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see him stumble about like a drunk.” He smirked, watching Lark try and climb the opposite dune.
