Sadie

The wagon tilted precariously to one side, turned, and then tilted the other way as we switched down the back road toward Valta. Maez and I were both turning green as we sat on the couches getting tossed to and fro. Nesra’s Pass was a long, steep ascent, but at least it was steady. This road was a short, sharp nightmare.

When the wagon finally leveled out, it took me a second to feel like we weren’t still moving. My stomach roiled and my hands shook.

“Fuck that road and its grandmother,”

Maez snarled.

“Never again,”

I groaned, clutching my gut.

Navin knocked on the wagon door. The stairs were lifted and locked for the rocky journey, and they rattled with each pound of his fists. “I’m heading into town for some food,”

he called. “Come find me at Jevara Vanesh when you’re ready.”

Jevara Vanesh. It meant “the roasting pig”

in Valtan, a restaurant or inn I presumed.

I wondered if Navin had more secret errands in this place. If we tailed him, where would he go? More, did he have the wherewithal to know he was being tailed? I intended to further my line of inquiry over our meal. It seemed like the farther we traveled, the more evasive he became, or maybe I was finally being more astute now that I wasn’t looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

As I took more queasy breaths and fanned myself, I noticed that the air in the wagon was starting to turn more humid. The sweat on my brow wasn’t only from nausea but also the heat. Maez’s short hair curled at the temples, her face flushed. We’d dropped so far in altitude over the course of the day, the Valtan weather had started to seep into the cracks of the wagon.

I pulled back one of the windows above my head and a wall of heat blasted at me. “Ugh,”

I grumbled, looking back and forth between Maez and my clothing of thick furs and leathers. Maez and I exchanged glances as we both started disrobing and went searching through the trunks of abandoned clothes for something lighter to wear.

When we stepped down off the wagon, I stifled a gasp as I craned my neck up toward the sky. In the far distance were mountains floating amongst the clouds. The bottoms of the mountains were diamond-shaped rocks—the darkest iridescent black, like ravens’ wings. Far below the floating mountains were circles of shade and turquoise pools of water. I’d heard of nomadic groups that would spend each day following the trail of shade from the mountains’ shadows. I believed it. It would be the only way to survive in such an unwelcoming environment. Unlike the lush, pastoral landscapes in the sky.

The floating mountains were called Upper Valta, where all the Onyx Wolf pack lived. The biggest mountain at the center of the cluster was the capital of Rikesh. I gaped, unbelieving that anyone could reside in the sky like that. Yet people clearly lived there, noting the long rope bridges that tied the floating mountains together. My already sore stomach twisted at the thought of riding across them with nothing but open air beneath us.

I lowered my gaze to the desert that stretched out on the ground below. It seemed like a wasteland of deep golden sand. No cities popped up in the distance, no other signs of life except for those from above. The teeming verdant green and sharp onyx stone of the mountains above sat in stark contrast to the rolling sand dunes below. Behind us was what appeared to be the only low-dwelling village in all Lower Valta.

The town was built near vertically into the sandstone cliffside. Little darkened square windows cut into the stone and crisscrossed pathways led up to the higher buildings. Donkeys pulled carts up and down the narrow roads as people darted to and fro between the shade of the buildings. There was no greenery apart from the plants that sprung up from a lean waterfall that poured from the cliffside down onto the top of the township, like a miniature oasis amongst a sea of sand and beige.

The few people who moved from building to building all wore broad hats and lightweight, pale clothing to keep cool from the scorching sun.

“So glad Briar packed my fur hat and woolen cloak,”

I muttered, “considering we’re going to be in the scorching heat for most of this trip.”

Maez let out a half snarl beside me at the derogatory mention of her mate. “You’d have frozen your tail off in Taigos, you ungrateful fool.”

She fanned out the billowing white shirt she wore over her half vest and fitted linen trousers. Her weapons belt was still strapped to her waist, but it was the only thick material in her otherwise desert-appropriate attire. I, on the other hand, wore similarly light fabric . . . but over the top of my fighting leathers. I wasn’t going to risk being stabbed just to keep cool. My bandoliers of knives were all hidden within my clothing now. For all intents and purposes, I was dressed like a human civilian, far more stealthy than Maez’s weapons belt, though I knew I might boil alive for the choice.

“Come on,”

Maez said, elbowing me and taking a step out of the shade of the wagon and into the sunlight. “Before we shrivel up, I need to eat something greasy.”

The first step into the sunshine felt like stepping too close to a fire, and I fought the urge to retreat into the shade. Behind us, four giant posts poked up from the earth, a shade sail hanging above it. Navin had parked the wagon under the sail alongside many other wagons and carts. There were feeding troughs and water—a makeshift barn. But a wooden barn would’ve probably been impossibly hot and equally easy to catch aflame. One spark and the whole thing would burst into an inferno. This place seemed teetering on the precipice of a firestorm.

I forced myself forward as the sun seared every inch of my exposed skin and I grimaced at the brightness. The sand was baking in the sun’s heat, and I felt like I was being cooked alive from both above and below. If the makeshift barn had been even a few more paces away from the shelter of the township, I might’ve collapsed from heat exhaustion right then and there.

Wearing my hidden leathers was a bad fucking idea. The regret mounted with each step through the burning sand, yet I didn’t dare turn back when the shade of town was so close. I had half a mind to strip naked right in the middle of the desert but realized that might be far more suspicious than wearing a sword on my hip.

When we reached the arched doorway to the township, we entered a corridor that tunneled into the hillside and traveled up through the shadowed town. The relief of the shade was so great I wanted to let out a moan.

“How does anyone live in this fucking town?”

Maez groaned, wiping the back of her sweaty neck.

An old man carrying a tray of glass vials stopped short and frowned at her.

Maez grimaced. “Apologies,”

she said in her best Valtan accent.

The man blustered off, shaking his head and muttering something about Damrienn.

“He knows where we’re from,”

Maez whispered to me.

“What did you expect?”

I waved to her bright red face and my sweat-soaked tunic. “We look like we’ve just been dunked in the ocean. All of the people around us look fine with the heat,” I said as Maez desperately fanned herself. “At least we pass for humans of Damrienn.”

“For now,”

Maez muttered. “Any more of this heat and I might go completely feral.”

“Bad idea,”

I said. “We’re not built for these climates. You’d combust in your furs.”

“Good point.”

We wandered farther down the main corridor, passing a cart of fans made from woven palm leaves. My eyes darted left and right, studying each passage, searching for a lanky musician who was far more than he seemed. Would this town hold any more clues that could help decipher his true nature?

“Here,”

I said, plucking two off the cart and passing the woman a crover.

She eyed it suspiciously, turning the foreign coin over twice to make sure it was real. Then she nodded and kept walking.

We frantically fanned ourselves as we kept walking and Maez started loudly talking about our family’s farm and visiting cousins in Valta. It wasn’t the worst ruse, but she was certainly overselling it.

“How about we just be quiet humans,”

I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

“Why yes, cousin!”

Maez said loudly and laughed at the family passing in the other direction. I elbowed her hard in the ribs. “How my cousin loves to jest,” she tittered.

“By all the fucking Gods,”

I spat and stormed off ahead of her.

Off the main vein of the town were narrower corridors, some bustling with people, others quiet. With Maez hot on my tail, I followed the Valtan signs up and up toward the top of the town, following the words Jevara Vanesh, along with the symbol of a plate and spoon drawn next to it.

My stomach rumbled more with each step upward, the smell of roasted meats and spiced nuts drifting down the tunnel. When we finally turned from the main hallway into the restaurant, all my relief disappeared.

Navin sat in a far corner booth, wide-eyed, with a knife pressed to his throat.

And the person holding that knife?

My father.