Chapter 21
Nahlah
Life in the Mirage meant constant noise and activity, and the monotony of our journey was wearing on my nerves. Following his betrayal, I had no interest in ever speaking to Rami again. But after two hours of utter boredom, I”d attempted to break the awkward stillness for the sake of my sanity.
Each time I tried to start a conversation, however, he replied with grunts or curt retorts when he bothered to acknowledge me at all. Eventually, I gave up, turning my attention to the horse instead. Initially, I felt foolish for talking to him, but soon found solace in narrating tales of adventures and mishaps while I braided his glossy mane, certain he was listening. When I”d told him about the stray baby dragon who wandered into the Mirage and nearly burned it to the ground with its hiccups, he”d released a series of chuffs—a sound I interpreted as laughter.
Just as my throat was running dry from my nonstop chattering, Rami brought us to an abrupt halt. ”We’ll stop here for the night.”
”Already?” I asked. ”We’ve only been traveling for a few hours.”
”Yes, but it”s almost midnight, and I don’t want to risk a late-night encounter with a sand dweller.” He quickly dismounted, extending a hand out to me.
Ignoring him, I swung myself over the side, underestimating how tall the horse really was. The ground hit a lot harder than I expected, the shock of the landing jolting painfully up my legs. He responded with an eye roll before pacing a large circle around us, his hands moving in a rhythmic pattern.
“Are you dancing?” I asked in confusion, the horse chuffing loudly at my question, once again sounding like he was laughing.
“No, I’m not dancing,” Rami scowled.
“Then what are you doing?” I pressed, genuinely curious.
“I’m placing a protection ward around us.”
I glanced around at the vast emptiness. “Who do we need protection from? There’s nothing for miles.”
“Just because you can’t see danger doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he remarked, his voice heavy with censure.
My cheeks flamed at the rebuke. “You don’t have to be rude; it was just a question.”
He ignored me, changing the subject. “Can you make a fire?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
“Okay, here.” He flicked his wrist, and as a bundle of sticks and brushwood materialized before me, I couldn’t help but feel awed despite my annoyance. Knowing he had powers was one thing; witnessing them in action was another thing entirely.
As I busied myself with the fire—eager for warmth after riding against the harsh wind—he continued putting the wards in place. Once finished, he conjured a water trough, fresh hay, and a generous heap of honeyed apples, much to the horse’s delight.
“What is your favorite fruit?” he asked, avoiding my gaze as he sat across from me.
”Grapes.”
With a nod, he conjured them and clementines, and we shared a simple meal of dried meat, fruit, and bread in complete silence. When he produced canteens of cold water, my curiosity about his powers spiked again, though I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to engage in conversation with him. This was not the charming, seductive man who’d danced with me, nor the adorable and shy man from the library. This was a hardened fae intent on furthering his and the Sultan’s agendas.
“Here.” He tossed a bedroll at me before unfurling his own. When he deliberately positioned himself with his back to me—a clear sign he didn”t want to talk—I suppressed the urge to throw something at his head.
“Nahlah, we need to go.” Rami’s voice woke me from what felt like only a few minutes of rest. As I squinted up at him, his face came into focus against the backdrop of the sky.
“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I sat up.
“An hour before sunrise. We need to get to the Shadowed Sands before nightfall.”
I pushed myself to my feet, stretching my arms over my head. “There are only a few hours of travel left; we’ll get there way before nightfall.”
He heaved the massive saddle onto the horse’s back as he replied, “I meant nightfall in the Shadowed Sands. Time runs differently there.”
“How?”
“When it’s night here, it’s day there, and vice versa. It also runs a few days ahead of us, so be prepared to feel exhausted upon our arrival.”
“You said you go there often, right?” I asked, pulling my boots on and lacing them up.
“No, I said I’ve been there many times,” he corrected, fastening our bedrolls to the saddle.
I rolled my eyes, pulling my hair over my shoulder and quickly braiding it. ”How accurate are the myths and legends about the Shadowed Sands?”
”I’ve put some clementines in your pack; we can eat while we ride.” He smoothly ignored my question, clearly not in the mood to talk. Rolling my eyes at his continued rudeness, I gathered my things and reluctantly let him pull me up in front of him.
Unfortunately, the uneven sand magnified the discomfort of today’s ride. Every time I swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain my balance in the saddle, Rami instinctively reached out. His hands would either find my waist or wrap around my stomach, steadying me before promptly letting go. My emotions were a tangled mess—resentment toward him and the Sultan, frustration with myself for needing his help, and outrage at my body’s reaction to his touch.
After an hour, the silence was once again deafening, and unable to handle another moment of it, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “What’s your horse’s name?”
“Huriyah.”
“Oh, what a beautiful name! It’s nice to meet you!” I smiled, rubbing my hand down the steed”s neck. “Huriyah, do you want to hear about the time my brother, Ala, accidentally disturbed a nest of cinder bees?”
Huriyah tossed his head up and down with an excited whinny, and I laughed. “Well, he was climbing one of the date palms…”
“I feel strange,” I murmured, abruptly sitting up straighter. The atmosphere had suddenly shifted, growing colder and putting me on edge as a chill ran down my spine. The once calm desert now seemed foreboding, my heart pounding in my chest as a sense of impending danger settled over me.
”That’s because we’ve arrived,” Rami said, abruptly bringing us to a standstill.
Bewildered, I scanned our surroundings, but there was nothing but sand and the occasional honeybelle tree in sight. “I don’t see anything.”
“There,” he pointed, and my eyes landed on a division in the landscape—a stark, black line drawn in the sand.
“The Sands won’t let you pass without a sacrifice unless you’re with one of their own,” Rami explained as he dismounted. “I’ve called upon my friend; we’ll enter with him. In the meantime, let”s get some rest.”
We sought refuge under the shade of a massive honeybelle tree, Rami feigning sleep—a convenient way to sidestep further conversation. Alone yet not lonely, I lavished attention on Huriyah. The horse seemed as pleased with my presence as I was with his, and for the next hour, he observed as I braided his mane, listening intently as I related more stories from home.
I had just begun working on a matching braid for myself when Rami sat up abruptly. ”He’s nearly here,” he said, springing to his feet. “Stay behind me until he arrives,” he instructed, securing his satchel across his chest. “Once we’re inside, stick close and remain silent.”
His directions instantly angered me. “I’m not a child. I can defend myself!” I shot back, glaring at him. ”I recall breaking your nose!”
“You did,” he admitted. ”But what is your experience with the dark fae? Umbralisks? Shadow Wraiths? Let alone facing them on their own turf?”
“Your rudeness is unnecessary!” I exclaimed, my frustration boiling over. His response was another silent stare, prompting me to step out from his shadow in protest.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, raising a hand as if to pull me back.
I met his challenge with a defiant stare. “Just because I was forced on this quest doesn’t mean I am under your command.”
“It isn’t my command we are under!” he shot back before exhaling sharply. “Look, right now, I have a better understanding of our situation. Now, come back here. Please,” he added through clenched teeth.
Determined not to let him dictate my actions, I stepped across the boundary in defiance. “You asked for my cooperation. Well, until you stop treating me like a child, I won’t...” I trailed off as I felt something hook around my ankle.
”For the love of the realms,” Rami groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What”s happening?!” I shrieked as the realm turned upside down.
”Kindly put her down,” he requested.
A raspy laugh rang out around us as a rough and unexpectedly amused voice countered, “But you’ve never brought me a present before.”
“Vee,” Rami warned, yet the creature only chuckled again, its shadowy form materializing. Made of writhing, intertwining vines shrouded in inky darkness, jagged thorns jutted from its limbs.
“Oh, let me have fun!” it exclaimed, lifting me higher into the air. Face-to-face with the creature, I fought back a scream, unable to tear my gaze away from its eyes, glowing with an eerie light. Huriyah whinnied indignantly, stomping a hoof, and it swung its head around to look at the horse. ”There”s no need for that kind of language, Huriyah!”
”Rami!” I shrieked, feeling dizzy as all the blood in my body rushed to my head.
With a resigned sigh, Rami lifted his hand, and the vine around my ankle transformed, blooming a beautiful, healthy green. Vee yelped in pain, his hold loosening immediately, and I plummeted toward the ground—a moment before Rami caught me.
“You know I hate when you do that,” Vee grumbled, shaking out his limb until it returned to its shadowy, jagged state.
“We asked you nicely,” Rami shrugged.
”How is Huriyah insulting my mother asking me nicely?!” Vee demanded, muttering under his breath about grumpy fae who didn’t know how to have fun. As he stepped back across the black line, he vanished from sight.
“What is that?” I asked, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
“That”s my friend, Vee. He”s an Umbravine Dryad.”
”Does everyone in the Shadowed Sands look like him?!”
Rami shook his head. “No, they’re scarier.” When my eyes widened in alarm, he locked his gaze with mine, his expression stern. “Will you listen to me now? Don’t talk to anyone, avoid eye contact, and most importantly, touch nothing.”
“Okay,” I agreed, properly chastised. As he lowered me to the ground, I suddenly realized I was grasping his jellaba in one hand, the other clutching his arm tightly. Hastily, I released him, heat rising to my cheeks as I found my footing.
Though I still didn”t like how he was treating me, the thought of what might”ve happened if I’d been alone—or if we’d encountered someone who wasn’t his friend—was truly terrifying.