Page 23 of The Stolen Throne
10
Wandering the
Deserts
We’ve been riding for days, but despite the danger I know is following us, I’m almost giddy. I’ve definitely been cooped up in the palace too long. The desert, my desert—my personal escape since childhood—feels like freedom to me. Actual freedom and not just a temporary reprieve.
There’s no telling how long that freedom will last. So far, we’ve been lucky.
I study the back of Reven’s head as he and Cain take the lead together. Neither will let the other ride alone with me, which is its own brand of entertainment. I swear those two turn into toddlers arguing over a toy when they’re together.
I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my sleeve. Apparently, when he and Reven came for me, Cain left word for his father that we would meet the zariphate in one of several places only known to them. The first two were a bust. We’re headed for the third location now.
And for all these days, I’ve been trying to figure Reven out.
I can’t quite put my finger on the subtle way Reven’s been shutting me out since we got going. There’s a distance to his silence. Like when he was my kidnapper, he only speaks to me if he has to. It’s a gap I can’t seem to bridge—one I worry is real because that sensation of being cut off earlier hasn’t let up. The shadowy connection between us is no longer stretched thin like before, but it’s not cold or empty, either.
More like…not moving. Still.
Intentional.
Best guess, the shadowing-us-out-of-the-palace situation is still worrying him. So is getting me safely to the zariphate. Legitimate concerns, which is why I haven’t cornered him about it. As soon as we get to Cain’s people and I can get Reven alone, he and I are going to have a talk.
We round a massive burnt-red rock formation we’ve been skirting for a few hours now, and the desert opens up in front of us, changing from the red, rocky terrain of the southern reaches of the Crimson Desert to a flat and cracked space that looks desperate for water. On the other side of this, we hit the bottom of the Singing Dunes to the east, where the sands turn tan again, like it is near Oaesys, where we started.
Cain’s zariphate is somewhere out there in the dunes.
No matter which desert I’m in, I can breathe here. I could live here forever and thrive.
Reven and Achlys, not so much. Partly because we’re plodding our way along under the scorching, relentless eye of the sun. How Reven, with his need for night and darkness, is handling this, I don’t know. At least he’s had months to adjust. Even I’m a little toasted, my golden skin taking on more of a bronzed base than usual. Achlys, on the other hand…
Where she’s riding beside me, Achlys gives a wheezing cough, and I send her a concerned glance. “Do you need to stop?”
After years in the palace, she’s not acclimated to being under our harsh sun all the time. She’s burned to a crisp, all the skin I can see bright red. Her lips are visibly cracked, and I guarantee sand has worked its way into every crevice of her body. She’s used up almost all the skin butter that the Wanderers make from the milk of barongs, terrifyingly ugly and yet gentle creatures, but not a single complaint has passed her lips.
“I’d rather keep going,” she says.
“I hope you’re not too miserable.” First stuck in the palace with me, and now out here.
“I appreciate that, domina.”
“Nope.” I wag a finger at her. “None of that domina stuff. Not anymore.”
Her eyebrows raise.
“I’m Meren to you from now on. Not queen or princess or domina.” I refuse to be what I’m not when I don’t have to, and especially with people who really know.
Doubt still twists her lips.
I heave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t make me give an order.”
Achlys loosens up enough to roll her eyes, something I’ve only ever seen her do with Tabra. “All right, Meren.” She says it in a dry voice, but at least she acknowledges that things are different now.
Everything is different.
I’m nineteen. A girl with an inconsistent power, my kingdom in the hands of a monster, a lot of people to protect, and a sister who is supposed to be queen but isn’t.
It’s…a lot.
