Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Keera

I bit my tongue to hide the grimace that always threatened to overtake my face at the taste of lyra tea. Still, the muscles in my brow contracted involuntarily, creating an expression that I imagined looked something like polite constipation.

Thankfully, the queen didn’t notice, taking a hearty sip from her own cup, completely unperturbed as she read over the scroll in front of her. I hoped it was more information from Oren. We hadn’t heard from him in a while, and I itched for more news of Clan Katal—of the Viper. Now that I knew I was to face him in the Trials, he loomed in my mind as a dark and imposing figure.

As monstrous as he felt in my consciousness as I trained, unyielding and inhuman, even more disturbing was the way he appeared in the dark of night. In my dreams, he was unmasked. Calm. In his last nighttime visit, we had sat before a fire as I hummed a familiar tune, as if he wasn’t the enemy who haunted most of my waking moments. Resist as I might, my nocturnal self relaxed in his presence, and I woke suddenly worrying if this was a trap to lure me in, like a coiled snake playing at being dead.

I swatted the idea away. They were just dreams, not visions sent by the Viper himself. Nothing more than my unconscious mind connecting my memory of his face with my underlying anxiety of facing him in the Trials.

“Is the tea still helping you contain your magic?” the queen asked.

I nodded, although ‘contain’ wasn’t the word I would use. After drinking the tea, it was as if a wet blanket had been thrown over my magic, the pit of my stomach feeling dampened and slightly empty. At those times, I could approach the well of power, tiptoeing around in my mind as I stacked mental stones around it.

Every time I rode Daiti in the desert or sparred with Aderyn—or woke from a dream of the Viper—I would come back to myself and find my barrier decimated, carefully placed rocks blown aside as if they were blades of arrowgrass.

So contained? No. Muted? Perhaps.

“I’m glad,” the queen continued, ignorant to my mental conundrum. “Because I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” I answered automatically.

The queen chuckled. “Never promise a royal a favor before you know what it is.”

“Royals aren’t common on this side of the mountains. I know little of them,” I admitted.

“And I know more of them than I would like, although it still isn’t very much,” Queen Ginevra said. “That is part of the favor I want to ask you, though.”

I cocked my head in curiosity.

“Next week, two ambassadors will be visiting from Viltov and Doran. I’m throwing a bit of a party to welcome them, and I would like you to come.”

My mind whirled with questions, but at the forefront was “me?”

After all, my manners still paled in comparison to the queen’s and even Aderyn’s. I was new to the city, and of no particular political influence beyond the queen’s sympathy for my magic.

“You,” Queen Ginevra repeated, unperturbed. “The ambassadors are coming in part because of the Trials. Given that they happen only once every twenty years, and they are one of the few times members of all clans are present in the city, they plan to stay for the competition. Given that your victorious emergence from the Trials is a particular interest of mine”—she picked her words with all the poised precision of a born diplomat—“I thought your presence might be appropriate.”

I considered her in silence as my brain tried to sort through the political machinations of the queen’s mind. I knew little of foreigners—very few clansmen of the Ballan Desert knew anything of those from beyond the mountains. While we knew the mountains that bordered three sides of the desert and the sea on the far edge were not the edges of the world, the clans had little contact with anything beyond those boundaries.

Occasionally, members of Clan Padra—who were good at making things from weapons to glass jewelry made from firing the sand that infiltrated every area of our lives—would travel to Kelvadan. Here, goods could be sold to traders from other countries who were bold enough to cross the mountains. Kelvadan kept the clans from having to interface with outsiders who would not be able to locate the clans in the desert as they roamed around between unknowable locations.

Rumor had it that sailors from Viltov had once taken a boat from their country around the mountains to the coast where the desert met the sea, hoping to bypass Kelvadan and deal with the clans directly. But the desert was vast, and with none of them from a clan with her favor, they had likely perished before they even found fresh water.

“Why would foreigners be interested in the Champion of the Trials?” I asked. After all, the Champion of the Desert would be of little concern to those who lived beyond its reaches.

“Because I mean to ask for their help.”

I drew back sharply, my small metal chair tipping back onto two legs. A lord of one of the clans would be too proud to ask another—especially one not from the Ballan Desert—for aid. “Their help?”

“They have armies, bigger than anything one city could muster,” Queen Ginevra explained, although her polished demeanor failed to fully hide the hint of disapproval in her voice. “Their countries are vast, and their soldiers could aid us if war comes to Kelvadan. Even if they could just pledge us increased food so we are not dependent on hunting and farming the area around the city in the case that Clan Katal lays siege.”

Her reasoning was sound, but doubt still gnawed at me. Inviting foreigners into the desert seemed like a violation of her magic. I preferred not to think about what would happen when—if—the Viper defeated me in the Trials. Similar to survival in the wilderness, it didn’t help to focus on what would happen to you when water ran out and hunger became too much. You simply had to focus on finding supplies.

A queen, however, had to be ready for any contingency.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“The desert’s power runs strong in you, and you will be an asset to Kelvadan’s riders. Give them confidence that our city can emerge victorious and that they will not be pledging their soldiers to die for a hopeless cause.”

Her confidence gnawed at me, and the magic in my belly stirred, asleep but still uncontained. This was a job for a prince or princess of Kelvadan—somebody with more control and practice, who had spent far more time among dignitaries or people in general than I had. But the queen had asked me, and I owed her my life, so I nodded.

“I will do what I can.”

If I had been afraid of feeling like an imposter all dressed up for a royal dinner, I had underestimated Neven’s skill. When I had mentioned the occasion at dinner, Neven had immediately jumped to his feet and rushed to his workshop to figure out what I would wear to such an occasion.

When I had frowned and mentioned that I could wear the purple dress from the festival again, Aderyn had shaken her head and smiled fondly.

“Neven enjoys making clothes for his friends more than he likes selling them, and I can only wear so many outfits.”

It turned out Aderyn would be coming to the dinner as well, as the commander of Kelvadan’s riders, although she already had a trunk of custom outfits to pick from. Now she helped me slip the gossamer red fabric of my dress over my head.

Underneath, I wore a band of golden fabric around my breasts and my hips to keep me decent, although the dark red fabric of the dress was thin and light enough that it left little to the imagination. I need not have worried about feeling constricted in my formal wear—my outfit was as light as air and left me free to move whichever way I liked.

Once the dress was on, Aderyn fetched gold bangles for my wrist while Neven approached me with a pot of gold paint.

“Are you sure?” I eyed it warily. While clansmen regularly wore paint into battle, or inked lines into their skin like Aderyn, citizens of Kelvadan had taken to decorating their skin for aesthetics alone.

“Trust me,” he insisted, and he seemed so pleased with himself that I closed my eyes and let him get to work.

The brush tickled my face as he dusted the golden pigment across my cheekbones and the bridge of my nose. Then he proceeded to dot it on my bottom lip before tapping my jaw and telling me I could look.

Staring in the hand mirror he offered, I found the effect more pleasing than I’d expected. The light dusting of gold across the high points of my face reminded me of the way the sun touched my skin when I turned my face up to the sky, and the metallic color was the perfect contrast against my light brown skin. I smiled, and Neven grinned back at me.

The moment settled the nest of snakes churning in my stomach. Perhaps I was not so unprepared to face the ambassadors from Viltov and Doran after all. By the time we reached the palace though, my nerves had begun to jangle again and my palms grew sweaty. I itched for the feel of a saber in my hand or Daiti between my thighs. As it was, I felt as if I were walking into a battle nearly naked. The only armor I wore was the wet blanket over my magic from chugging a cup of lyra tea before getting dressed.

When we entered the palace dining room, we discovered we weren’t the first to arrive, a few of the queen’s councilors milled about. I caught sight of Kaius among a cluster of them and he threw me an easy wink. The doors to the adjacent terrace had been thrown open, letting in air and offering a perfect few of the ombre sky, ranging from dusty purple to flaming orange as the sun flirted with the horizon. Near the exit to the terrace stood the queen, conversing with two men that could only be the ambassadors.

Aderyn caught my eyes, jerking her chin toward the trio and indicating we should approach. I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. Somehow, joining their discussion felt less intimidating when I was doing so on an order from Aderyn. After all, she was my commander, and I was one of her riders.

“Ah, just who I wanted to see.” The queen graciously opened her arm toward Aderyn and me as we approached, stepping back to let us join their group. “This is Lyall from Viltov,” she gestured to the taller of the two, who took me in with an unimpressed expression. “And Hadeon from Doran.”

I observed the second ambassador as Queen Ginevra introduced us in turn. He had golden hair and a wide smile that revealed a chipped front tooth, although the flaw did little to detract from his general handsomeness. He wore a light blue tunic with a plush white fur draped over his shoulders from some animal I couldn’t possibly imagine. It wouldn’t be very practical to wear in the desert, although the evenness of his fair complexion betrayed the fact that he didn’t get nearly as much sun as the clansmen or residents of Kelvadan. While people here had a range of skin tones, those with paler complexions quickly accumulated freckles, even if they always wore a hood.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” intoned Lyall with a flatness that indicated he felt nothing of the sort when Queen Ginevra finished introducing us.

“Quite a pleasure,” echoed Hadeon with much more enthusiasm. “Although you make me realize I might be a tad overdressed.”

I looked between the three women in the group, finding we were all similarly dressed, with bare arms and abdomens, while Hadeon was covered from wrists to ankles. Even the men of Kelvadan, with no need to hide themselves from the rays of the sun as they dined inside, wore belted vests with bare chests beneath and pants that ended just below the knees.

“Out on the sands, it can be nice to protect yourself from the sun with a hood and a robe, but in the protection of the palace it is nice to stay cool,” I admitted.

“Not something I would have thought of when preparing for my journey,” Hadeon admitted with a grimace. “I didn’t realize it could actually get this hot. In Doran, it’s cold enough to snow for three quarters of the year.”

“Snow?” I asked.

“Why don’t we all take a seat so dinner can be served,” Queen Ginevra cut in. “And Keera and Hadeon can sit next to each other to talk about snow.”

I didn’t miss her pointed look over Lyall’s shoulder as we arranged ourselves around the table. Frankly, I gladly positioned myself on Hadeon’s right with Aderyn on his left, between him and Lyall, who sat next to the queen. Kaius sat on Queen Ginevra’s other side, with most of the councilmen across from us.

“Have you really never seen snow?” Hadeon asked as the meal began.

I shook my head. “I’ve only heard about it,” I admitted. Indeed, some tales from my childhood had mentioned the white powder existing high in the mountains.

“I can’t imagine,” Hadeon said with an incredulous shake of his head.

The first course of the meal passed easily enough, conversation mainly comparing homelands. I learned the pelt on Hadeon’s shoulders came from the cold-weather cousins of the fennec foxes we were familiar with. I kept one eye on Aderyn and Queen Ginevra’s conversation with Lyall, and although he divulged his country to be an island nation off the coast of Hadeon’s homeland, his descriptions were perfunctory, and he seemed much more interest in what Hadeon was telling me.

“Well, I’m excited to witness these Trials,” Hadeon said as the second course was served. “You indicated that they are of great importance to your people.”

“They are.” Queen Ginevra jumped into our conversation, revealing her ability to listen to every conversation happening around her. “Keera will be competing, and none of us here would be surprised if she were crowned Champion.”

Nobody here but me, I added internally, for I still harbored my doubts. The queen insisted that the power of the desert in me was a sign that she favored me, likely even enough to be her Champion. Every time Queen Ginevera mentioned the Trials, I swallowed my doubts, knowing that she and Aderyn were counting on me. I was loathe to disappoint them. Still, after training for mere months, I was dubious about my ability to best more experienced competitors, let alone a rider who seemed more myth than man.

“Based on your correspondence, it is imperative that she does win,” Lyall interjected. A hush fell over the room at the comment, and the rest of the advisors at the table abandoned their conversations in favor of listening in on ours.

“I had hoped to let you enjoy more of your meal before burdening you with Kelvadan’s requests,” Queen Ginevra admitted, “but it is true. Our city has much at stake in the coming Trials.”

Hadeon looked at her with interest as Lyall stared stonily, waiting for her to continue.

“If one of the competitors from the clans, a rider known as the Viper, is successful, the clans may unite against Kelvadan and attack. With their combined force, a civil war in the desert could spell death for many.”

“Civil war?” Hadeon echoed. “Would it really come to that?”

“I’m afraid war is a language the clans of the Ballan Desert speak well,” Aderyn answered this time.

“And why should a Civil war concern Viltov?” Lyall asked frankly. “Although we have sailed to the coast on the far side of the desert, we have never made contact with the clans. Their activities do not affect us.”

I bristled at his callousness, but Queen Ginevra’s placid, diplomatic expression did not slip an inch. “Viltov has traded with Kelvadan since the days of my grandfather. If the city were to fall, Viltov would not be able to acquire goods from the Ballan Desert.”

Lyall appeared unmoved by the prospect of loss of trade. “While our wives certainly appreciate your textiles, you’ve never traded with us the one thing we’ve tried to bargain for many times.”

Queen Ginevra sat up straighter. “Perhaps arrangements can be made in exchange for your help protecting Kelvadan from the unrest of the clans.”

“Are you saying you would consider trading your horses?” Hadeon asked, leaning forward in his seat .

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye, and I chanced a glance at Kaius, who shifted in his seat. Some of the same discomfort in his movement echoed through my bones. Horses were sacred to the Ballan Desert.

“Negotiations could be opened if Viltov or Doran offered military aid to Kelvadan,” the queen answered.

“Then Viltov will stay and consider if military aid will be required,” Lyall responded in a non-answer that I was coming to realize was the way of these politicians.

“Hopefully you are as touched by the desert as the queen mentioned”—Hadeon inclined his head toward me—“and it does not come to civil war at all.”

“You can’t actually believe that the desert choses her Champion with some kind of magic,” Lyall retorted.

Hadeon shrugged. “If these people have never seen snow, perhaps there are things here that I have not seen yet.”

After that, conversation started up again but remained stilted for the rest of the evening. I focused on eating as neatly as possible, although my fingers still ended up sticky from dates, and I brushed crumbs from my lips hastily with the back of my hands.

My hopes that this meeting would relieve some of the crushing pressure of the Trials sank miserably. Instead of having an alternative to protect Kelvadan should the Viper be crowned champion, all we had accomplished was further scrutiny on the competition. Only weeks away now, it barreled down on us like an out-of-control horse.

As soon as the meal was cleared, Lyall swept from the room, barely taking the time to wish the assembled group a good evening. For the remaining diners, small cups of laka were poured, and everybody began to mill about the room once more.

Without thought, I drifted toward the open door to the terrace. As casual as the tone of conversation was, the dining room remained thick with expectations and anxiety of the coming war. The stars called my name from the now dark sky, drawing me out into the open air where the wind smelled of hot sand and freedom.

As I leaned on the railing around the terrace, nursing my cup of laka carefully—the queen had warned me that too much could counteract the lyra leaves’ effect—a figure stepped up beside me. I turned, expecting to see Aderyn, standing steadfast as ever in support. Instead, Hadeon stopped beside me, looking up at the stars as I did.

“Don’t let Lyall bother you. Viltov was never going to send help,” he mused.

“They still might,” I argued, although I had to agree that Lyall’s demeanor had been icy from the beginning. “Why else would he stay for the Trials?”

“To keep an eye on me.” Hadeon rested his elbow on the railing, propping his chin in his hand. As he tilted his head to look at me, a strand of his immaculately styled golden hair fell forward across his forehead. Instead of looking messy, I got the impression that he spent hours coiffing it with potions and pomades, so it fell just so when the moment arose.

“On you?”

“Doran and Viltov have been rivals for generations. The islands Viltov inhabits were once part of our nation before they invaded. They have their eyes on the mainland too, already occupying a few coastal cities. However, my king believes that the islands should be part of Doran once more, but he cannot mount an attack on them without losing ground on the mainland. So, we remain at a stalemate.” Hadeon illustrated the conflict for me.

“And so why should your kings care about Kelvadan when war already marches on their own territory?” I asked. Realizing my argument was against my own best interest, I snapped my mouth shut.

“Letting one of us get the advantage over the other would be disastrous. So, where an ambassador from one country goes, another must follow.” Hadeon spread his hands. “Rumor has it that horses from the Ballan Desert would mount the greatest cavalry in the world. But if one of us were to supply troops to Kelvadan and thin our defenses, it could leave us open to attack from the other. And so, we watch, and we wait.”

My head spun with all the political machinations hidden beneath the surface of a polite dinner. Perhaps the clans had it right, and a duel of honor would be simpler. I shook the thought from my head though. The harshness of the clans had led to my exile, and the complexities of diplomacy were the price Kelvadan paid for peace .

“Why tell me any of this?” I asked.

“We’re always looking for an advantage over the other,” Hadeon said. “Lyall doesn’t believe in the power that some say lives in these lands, but I figured there is no harm in being on the good side of the supposed Champion of the Desert. Who knows what help it could bring down the line?”

Hadeon smiled at me, the expression easy and polished. I returned the gesture, glad of his confidence even as the power in my gut let out a sleepy growl. Another bet had been placed on me, although it seemed that politicians gambled with fate, not coin. I squared my shoulders against the weight of responsibility—a weight that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day toward the Trials. For years, my only responsibility had been to my own life, and even then, I questioned whether survival was wise. Perhaps these expectations were the price of belonging—of having a home.

For Kelvadan, for my home, I would carry those expectations, no matter how much they chafed.

“Come. I have something to show you.” The queen met me just inside our usual terrace today, cutting me off and heading up the stairs further into the palace, past the levels I had seen before to unknown heights.

I followed her curiously as we climbed and climbed.

The queen’s words came out breathy from the exertion as we walked. “I must admit, the logistics of the Trials have become time consuming lately. Organizing all the challenges is quite a task. I regret that I don’t have more time to help you, but I think I might offer you another way to learn.”

My curiosity piqued, the staircase led around and around until I bordered on dizzy, I assumed winding to the highest spire that crowned the apex of the city.

Finally, we reached a landing facing a set of double doors. I craned my neck to stare at the tapestry above the grand arch. One side depicted a mountain range, and the blue waves of the ocean filled the other edge. Stretching between was golden fabric, the same color as the sands in the midday sun. In the center was the image of a red gemstone emitting rays of light that shot across the tapestry, marked by iridescent threads.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Queen Ginevra asked, following my line of sight. “It was made by the craftsman who trained Neven’s late master. Kelvar commissioned it to hang over the door to his and Alyx’s rooms.”

I glanced over at her, and she nodded.

“These rooms at the top of the palace belonged to the first King and Queen of Kelvadan. Now though, they serve as a reminder of my family’s legacy—and our failures.” She stepped forward and laid one hand on the door but didn’t push on it. Inches above her fingers glittered a pane of red-black glass, so dark I couldn’t see what lay beyond. A matching panel adorned the other of the two doors.

Blood glass.

“Nobody knew as many secrets of the desert as Kelvar, and even he knew frighteningly little. As his moods raged and he became more distracted, he took to shutting himself in these rooms to pore over old scrolls and mutter to himself. These rooms were a haven to him and Alyx, these blood glass panels recognizing only their touch to allow them in.” She ran her fingers over the smooth, dark surface of the glass.

“When Alyx fell ill and finally passed, he wouldn’t even let anybody see her body or remove her from their rooms. She was still in there when he rode out into the desert, never to be seen again. Now this room is a tomb for Kelvadan’s first queen.”

I bowed my head in respect as the queen stared contemplatively at the door before her.

“Everybody speaks of Kelvadan being my grandfather’s legacy, but I like to come up here and consider Alyx and what she might have done. While Kelvar was the greatest warrior ever known, strong in the magic of the desert, this city would not have come to be what it was without Alyx. She had a way of bringing people together, bestowing peace on all she touched. Even Kelvar, who was more storm than human sometimes. The desert gifted her with healing magic, letting her heal Kelvar’s horse and start their love story.”

“She sounds incredible,” I admitted, wondering at the dead queen who lay beyond the thick stone doors, likely no more than bones at this point. The city might not bear her name, but it had been built for her .

“She calmed Kelvar’s madness for years, it only overtaking him when she was gone and he was blinded with grief,” Queen Ginevra’s voice got very quiet. “I’ve always wanted to be like Alyx, but I failed a long time ago.” She took her hand from the door and turned to face me. Her eyes were overbright, but she held her chin high. “When I saw you, troubled by the same power that plagues my family, I knew the desert was giving me a chance to set things right. If I could help you, I would be redeemed.”

“You don’t need redemption,” I said with a shake of my head.

“I wish I could offer you the same wisdom that Alyx would, but I’m going to offer you the next best thing,” the queen told me. “While the rarest and most precious texts Kelvar had remain locked in his chambers, the rest are down one level in the Royal Library’s private collection. I encourage you to read anything you can. Hopefully the same wisdom that Kelvar sought can help you.”

I blinked in shock before remembering myself and tapping my brow with my knuckles in respect. “It would be an honor.”

“I’m not sure a bunch of dusty tomes and scrolls are an honor, but my knowledge can be yours now.” The queen smiled kindly as she led me to down one flight of stairs to a small room filled with shelves. It looked much like her private study down many floors, but the air was mustier, speaking to the age of the books and how often it laid undisturbed.

I lingered there, thumbing through paper as fragile as the skin of an onion, until it grew so dark, I couldn’t make out the figures on the page. I hadn’t made it very far, and I cursed the slowness of my reading.

While I had been taught as a child, reading was a skill that fell by the wayside as I scraped a living out of bare sand. Now, I itched to unravel the legend of Kelvar that might be hidden in these texts and cursed at the way I had to pause and decipher every third word.

From what I could gather, many of the scrolls and books related to one of the most common tales told among the clans: the first crossing of the desert. While it was often told around the Clan Padra firepits in my youth, I pored over it now with renewed intensity.

Crossing the desert had granted the first clan lord the ability to call this wild land his home and the magic that now ran through its people’s veins—the Heart of the Desert. It seemed that Kelvar had become obsessed with uncovering the source of the power that drove him mad. Was the answer to controlling this magic in its origin?

If Kelvar could not figure it out in all his years, then I doubted I would either. Following the trail he left was the best chance I had, though.

Aderyn pursed her lips and stared up at the arched entrance to the city before her. She had pulled her hood low over her face, but I could still see the concern in her gaze.

“Kelvar built this entire city in a day and couldn’t be bothered to give us a gate?” she asked nobody in particular.

“I’m not sure a gate made of stone would be very practical,” answered Dryden anyway from where he sat on his horse on my other side.

“It would have made me feel better,” she grumbled. “At least it is the only way in and out of the city, easily defended from the top of the walls.” She raised her voice now, gesturing to the guards walking along the edge of the wall for all the trainees to see. Aderyn decided to take us with her as she prepared the city’s security for the upcoming Trials, the trip outside the walls giving us a chance to practice riding in the open space. It also served as a tour of the city’s defenses.

“We could build a gate,” I pointed out.

“I could ask the queen to commission one, but it would take time to build such a structure.” Aderyn shook her head. “Besides, I doubt she would allow it. The lack of gate has always symbolized how Kelvadan is open to all. It would hardly fit with the tone of diplomacy she’s adopting for the Trials.” The tone of her voice indicated she didn’t see diplomacy ending in success. Aderyn was the type to perform negotiations with one hand on her sword.

Still, the queen held on to hope that the Trials could prevent a war. She planned to give places of honor to Lyall and Hadeon, the two diplomats, at the celebrations. By her estimation, just seeing them might show that Kelvadan would not stand alone against the clans of the desert, persuading some of the lords to rethink their allegiance to Lord Alasdar.

“While the clans certainly aren’t afraid of battle, they won’t risk their riders in a war they know they won’t win,” the queen had commented the afternoon after the failed dinner. “Perhaps if they see an attack on Kelvadan as hopeless, Lord Alasdar’s troops will melt around him.”

“We don’t have a promise from Viltov or Doran to send aid though,” I argued, unsure.

At that, Queen Ginevra smiled tightly. “What people think often ends up being more important than what’s actually true.”

Aderyn clearly wasn’t putting all her faith in the idea of Lord Alasdar’s forces disbanding. Night and day, she talked about security for the Trials, spending every second she wasn’t preparing for them training the riders in the case that war came fast on their heels.

Stopping before the gate, Aderyn wheeled her mount around to face us. “Pair up and survey the walls for any weaknesses Clan Katal could exploit on an attack of the city. Dryden, Keera, you start from the eastern edge where the wall meets the cliffside and work back toward us. Nyra, Kyler, you head east from here until you meet them.”

As Aderyn directed the others to the far side of the wall, Dryden shot a grin at me, eyes squinted against the midday sun. “Race you to the end of the wall?”

Before I could answer, he kicked his mare into a gallop, disappearing in a cloud of dust. Despite the gravity of recent events, I found myself smiling too as I urged Daiti forward with the squeeze of my thighs and a murmured command. He leapt forward with an eagerness I would have expected if I hadn’t exercised him outside the wall in a week.

As the wind of our hectic ride pushed back my hood, tendrils of hair pulled free from my twist, as if the desert wanted to play with them, running her hands through my silky strands. The sounds of Aderyn’s voice were drowned by the pounding of Daiti’s hooves in time with the beating of my heart.

We quickly caught Dryden and his mount, a laugh tearing itself from me as Daiti plunged past them, the muscles in his neck flexing in time with his extended gait. I let myself revel in the feeling of lightness that filled me out here on the sands with no walls to hold me. As much as Kelvadan had become my purpose, the closest thing I ever had to a home, I missed the feel of the sand beneath me and sun above me, the horizon stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction with equally endless possibilities. Riding brought me more peace than all my hours of attempted meditation with Queen Ginevra.

Approaching the cliff where the walls joined the mountain, I slowed Daiti to a trot. I looked over my shoulder at Dryden, still galloping to catch up with me. As he pulled astride and slowed his own mount, he shook his head, the look of defeat on his face too exaggerated to be genuine.

“You wound my pride. I hope the Trials this year don’t have too many riding events, or I’ll be eliminated early.” Dryden panted.

“On the contrary, I’m hoping for many riding events.” I had spent many sleepless nights trying to puzzle out what the Trials might entail, but Aderyn and the queen remained tight-lipped throughout the preparations. Despite their desire for me to win, they refused to share any details for the planned events, worried that accusations of cheating might hurt my credibility or have me ejected from the tournament.

So, I had tried to puzzle through what challenges might await me, apart from the duels that were the traditional final event. I didn’t mind my loss of sleep, as I had been visited by another troublesome dream as I rested two nights ago. This time, the Viper sat across from me in a small tent, a plate of dates between us.

As he ate one, I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve eaten too many dates in my lifetime.”

At that, the Viper let out a truncated sound startlingly close to a laugh for somebody so fearsome, although his laughter didn’t strike me as odd until after I woke. “Are you even allowed to live in the Ballan Desert if you don’t like dates?”

“I don’t dislike them.” I shrugged. “There were just too many times where they were all I had.” I stared at the plate, and the fruit transformed into oranges in the helpful way things sometimes do in a dream.

The Viper frowned. “I was enjoying them.”

“Well, I prefer oranges.”

We reached out for the plate at the same time, and our hands collided. While everything around me remained hazy and out of focus, his hand against mine was jarringly solid, a jolt of reality in a nighttime vision. The warmth of his touch had jerked me from sleep.

I woke with a gasp and returned to considering the Trials and avoiding odd dreams of the man I would compete with for the fate of the desert in a matter of days. Perhaps the dreams were just my mind’s attempt at puzzling out the masked Viper. After all, I had been hoping for more word from Oren on my competitor—who he was under the mask or how he came to have such a position of power—but Queen Ginevra’s spy had remained silent. From the worried crease between the queen’s brows whenever I asked if Oren had sent a falcon, the lack of information on the Viper concerned her too.

Dryden brought me back to the present by speaking. “I guess I’ll have to hope we don’t race each other on horseback too early on.”

I nodded and patted Daiti’s neck, turning toward the wall to do as Aderyn had bid. I scanned upward, still in awe of the solid sheet of rock that surrounded the city. Before I could ensure this section of wall was without fault, a rustle sounded behind me.

Dryden’s yelp split the air, followed by a terrible howl. I wheeled around. A red wolf flew through the air at Dryden whose mount sidled out of the way, eyes rolling in her head. The dodge kept the wolf from unseating Dryden as it might have, but it still caught his arm in its jaws.

A scream tore from Dryden’s lips as several smaller wolves approached from the far side. I reached for my sling in my belt instinctually, heart skipping a beat when I came up empty. Dryden grunted in pain as he tried to shake the wolf loose, serrated teeth ripping the sleeve of his robe, now stained crimson. He didn’t see the predators approaching from the other side.

The wildness in my chest from my gallop, which had not quite dissipated, rose again, overtaking my mind in the space of a breath. I felt the wolves, their hunger, the panic of the horses and the dunes in the distance that would lead to the sea.

I threw my hand out with a yell and a crack like thunder split the air. I blinked to clear my vision from the white spots that had overtaken it, eyes finally focusing on the shapes of four wolves, all limp on the ground .

I lifted my gaze to check on Dryden, only to find his horse’s back empty. In a panic, I slid off Daiti, knees nearly buckling as my feet hit the ground. Among the slumped forms of the wolves, whether dead or unconscious, I did not know, lay Dryden face down in the sand.

I rolled him over only to be overcome by a wave of nausea. A spreading line of blood crossed his shoulder. It wasn’t a rough tear from teeth or claws that rent his flesh, but a clean slash—like the magical cut I had just used to dispatch the wolves.

I had done this.

The tan fabric of his tunic soaked through as I watched, and he blinked open bleary eyes. I reached out to press on his wound, anxious to stem the bleeding but when his gaze focused on me, he flinched back. I tried again, but he shied away, panting in pain, his eyes wide and full of an all too familiar emotion: fear. It was the look in my parents’ eyes after I split the earth at my feet—the look that haunted me in the darkest hours of the night.

I bared my teeth at the burning behind my eyes, untying my hood from around my head. I ignored Dryden’s expression, using the fabric to tie around his arm, putting as much pressure as I could muster on his wound.

“Can you stand?”

He nodded, but as he tried to move, he wavered unsteadily. I helped him up with an arm under his good shoulder.

“We have to get you back to the gates.”

He nodded again, but his dark skin had taken on an ashen undertone. I didn’t trust him to keep his seat on his horse, but I didn’t have time to negotiate with him to ride double with me or with Daiti to let him clamber onto his back. Instead, I let him use me as a human ladder to climb his own mare. Then I led her forward, walking alongside her in case Dryden slipped off. He didn’t seem far from it as he lay heavily over her neck. Daiti immediately followed, coming up to flank Dryden on his other side as if sensing the same unsteadiness I did.

The walk back to the gates was short but felt like it lasted eternity, Dryden using the little strength he seemed to have to shoot wide-eyed looks at me.

I opened my mouth several times but bit my tongue, eventually hard enough to taste copper in my mouth. There was no good apology for what I had done—no easy explanation. Dryden knew I had lost control before, but nobody had been hurt. Maybe it had just seemed like a fun novelty when nobody had been killed, but my abilities had an ugly side. I had been working for months to gain command over the power that resided within me but only seemed to be worse than when I started. I was a failure. After all Kelvadan and the queen had offered me, I couldn’t even keep them safe from myself. No matter how kind Aderyn and Neven were to me, it had been unrealistic to hope Kelvadan could be my home. I was a menace to her people, even as I tried to save them.

Seeing us approach, the group by the gates immediately saw something was wrong. Aderyn galloped up, Nyra and the others hot on her tail.

“What happened?”

Dryden shot a fearful look at me but didn’t speak.

“Wolves. We took care of them.” Guilt and fear mixed in my chest as I said it. Soon, they would find out what I had done, and everybody would look at me with the same horror that Dryden did.

Aderyn nodded but looked between the two of us with discerning eyes. “Nyra, help Dryden to the healer. Kylar, you go ahead and tell them to expect him.”

They sprang into action, while I stood frozen, toeing the sand with my boot. Dryden whispered to Nyra as she began to lead his horse away, and they both looked at me over their shoulders. Nyra’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll go investigate. Make sure there aren’t any more,” Aderyn declared. “And Keera… I’ll see you at home.”

She rode off, but I stood there with a lump in my throat for a few moments before trudging back to the city. Daiti trailed me with his head hung low.

I heard the front door open and sprung up from the couch where I was sitting, squeezing my hands together before me. I had spent the past hour thinking of something I could say to Aderyn, but I still didn’t know where to start .

She walked into the room and looked at me, raising one brow before sitting down to pull off her own boots.

“You really did a number on those wolves,” was her first comment as she shook the sand out of her shoes.

I resisted the urge to stare at the floor. “Why do you let me stay here?”

It wasn’t what I had planned on saying—I had rehearsed everything I could think to say about how I would fail Kelvadan in the Trials—but all of a sudden it seemed like the most pressing question. She had taken me into her home without protest and let me stay even when I had proven myself a liability on multiple occasions. She had given me a purpose, when even my own clan couldn’t extend me a home.

“Did you have somewhere else to go?” she asked.

“I made it on my own for a long time.”

She gave me a long look, leaning forward and propping her elbows on her knees. “I’ve made some of my best friends by taking in strays.”

“I’m not the first?”

“No.” A smile quirked the edge of her lips. “Neven was the first.”

I furrowed my brow in question. She leaned back with a sigh and gestured for me to sit.

“Neven was a member of Clan Tibel. He was given his horse when he came of age, but training to be one of the clan riders…well, it wasn’t for him. He always wanted to be a craftsman, but his parents were both warriors and hunters, and they tried to force him to follow in their footsteps. One day, when the clan passed close by the city, he left. He rode into Kelvadan looking just as lost as you did.

“I was the guard at the gate that day and decided to help him. Now he weaves the best cloth in the city, and traders from across the mountain consistently come in search of it. And us…”

Aderyn shrugged, but her meaning was clear.

“Neven seems less likely to accidentally cut your arm off though,” I grumbled.

“Dryden isn’t going to lose an arm,” Aderyn snorted. “He’s just shaken up. Doesn’t really have a warrior’s disposition.”

“What if I can’t win the Trials? What if I end up hurting more people than I help—if people would be safer if I left?” My heart hurt even as I said it. Kelvadan was the closest to belonging I had ever felt, even if I occasionally felt homesick for a place I couldn’t even picture. It certainly wasn’t the oasis where I struggled to survive, even more trapped than I felt when entombed in the stone of the mountain. Here, I had Aderyn and Neven, who included me in conversation easily every night, even if I didn’t contribute much to the proceedings. I enjoyed being part of their family.

Something flickered in Aderyn’s eyes—something looking suspiciously like hurt. She looked away, not meeting my gaze as she spoke low, as if confessing to a grave misdeed.

“I knew somebody who struggled the same way you do once. I lost them many years ago. I hoped—I still hope—that helping you might be a way to set things right. And I still believe you came to Kelvadan for a reason.”

I tilted my head. The queen had said something very similar when she explained to me her family’s fraught history.

“Stay through the Trials,” Aderyn proposed. “I believe you are more likely to win than you are to hurt anybody.”

I nodded my agreement. It was the least I could do for one of the first real friends I had ever had, even if I didn’t fully understand her faith in me.

The plains outside the city had been transformed, now almost as lively as the streets inside the walls. Rows of tents lined walkways through an encampment larger than even the one of Clan Katal I had escaped from months earlier. The large tents of prominent families mixed with the small dwellings of single riders. Flags of every color hung at the entrance flaps, signaling the presence of all the tribes, although I gave tents sporting the maroon scorpion of Clan Padra a wide berth.

The whicker of horses and the smell of meat roasting over fire filled the air as all the competitors for the Trials arrived. They had been trickling in for days now, more and more coming as we approached the opening feast, which would be held this evening.

I walked among the tents in awe of the number of riders ready to test their skills. Perhaps I would be eliminated by some other skilled rider before I even encountered the Viper, or perhaps the Viper would lose to somebody else. The thoughts swirled in complicated eddies that I couldn’t fully keep track of as I pondered the competition.

Dryden wouldn’t be able to compete at all after his injury. When I went to apologize to him, he waved me off and told me the feasting and dancing interspersed with the competition would be the most fun part anyways. Something about the way he said it told me he was just trying to avoid upsetting me. The tinge of fear in his eyes, perhaps of how I might react if he enraged me, hurt the worst of all.

It was part of the reason I explored the temporary encampment alone now. Aderyn had appointed herself as the queen’s additional bodyguard for the duration of the Trials, and Neven was busy running a stall to sell his textiles to the many visitors who would be using the Trials as a time to buy goods from the city. There would be plenty of time to do business as the Trials were scheduled to last a full month, with time between the events for competitors to recover and celebrate.

While Dryden, Nyra, and the other trainees would certainly be enjoying the events too, I couldn’t bear the sidelong glances they had shot me ever since Dryden’s injury.

The sun creeped toward the horizon, staining the whole camp in crimson and gold as the underlying buzz of excitement built. Competitors emerged from their tents or left their campfires as dusk approached, moving toward the main thoroughfare of the camp.

I joined them, waiting for the appointed hour when the queen would arrive and all competitors would declare their intentions to join the Trials. We crowded into the wide street created by two lines of tents leading straight toward the archway into the city. I tried my best to stay on the fringes, where the bodies crowded together less densely.

My reluctance to push into the crowd found me carried to the back of the queue of fighters, ready to pledge their intention to the queen. While I stood above almost all the other female riders in height, the taller men still made it difficult to see as Queen Ginevra emerged, standing in the archway, outfit glimmering in the light of dusk. I could just spot Aderyn, standing off her shoulder with a hand on her dagger, glaring at each warrior who stepped up to the queen and knelt, swearing to fight honorably in the coming Trials.

The queue inched forward, and I ran over the words Aderyn had taught me as the ceremonial request to compete for the honor of being named Champion. So engrossed was I in my mental rehearsal that I almost missed when a hush fell over the competitors around me. The entire rear quarter of the line turned to stare at the figure who fell into the very back of the queue. I turned to see what they were staring at, and my heart froze in my ribcage. Standing alone, black silhouette outlined by the setting sun, was the Viper.