Chapter Fifty-Two Samira
FIFTY-TWO SAMIRA
I stood at the top of the staircase, staring hard to the west, at that inexplicable metallic glimmer, while Keir tried to figure out how to carry water without a canteen, muttering curses to himself the whole while.
But he’d made it very clear he didn’t want my help, and I was content to watch him struggle.
Rade’s power came from the Goddess of the Lost, so no matter where he’d been dropped in this place, he should be able to find his double.
He might’ve thought I’d done the same and already returned to Frostguard.
In which case, Rade might not even be in the Mirror Realm anymore.
Or maybe he’d asked Eira to help him find me. Maybe he was headed this way right now.
When I’d voiced that possibility to Keir, he’d dismissed it. “We can’t just sit here and wait for him to maybe turn up,” he’d said.
Though I loathed admitting it, he was right.
Rade could be lying helpless in the sand somewhere, slowly roasting under the sun’s flames.
Something had obviously gone wrong. Not waking up side by side with our qareens bound at our feet was the least of our concerns.
There could be dangerous creatures out here, and with Rade all alone… We had to move fast.
There was sand and gravel in all directions.
As far as I could tell, the abandoned temple was the only thing in this wasteland.
Though that compulsion drew me to the west, I knew better than to insist without some proof to show Keir.
Intuition certainly wouldn’t be enough. Which was why I’d trained my eyes westward, trying to decipher—
I straightened as it suddenly occurred to me. Miles and miles of sand, a large dirt-encrusted mountain, and that glinting. A reflection. A roof. Right where it was supposed to be.
“Keir!”
He’d taken off his boot and dunked it in the water, the clear liquid streaming over the rim. A sorry excuse for a canteen. His frown suggested he thought the same. But he looked up when I called. I waved him over, and he climbed the steps to stand beside me.
“Look.” I gestured to where the sun winked off the metal roof.
Keir’s brows drew closer together. “Another temple?”
I shook my head. “Ashorah.”
He stilled as he took in our position, making quick calculations, before his eyes settled on the horizon again. “If you’re right,” he said slowly, “that means we’re—”
“In the Wastelands.” My heart gave a fearful kick.
His face tightened. “Humans can’t survive more than a couple of days in the Wastelands.”
“I know.” King Zaid had nearly died here four decades ago, saved only by his bargain with the jinn. “Keir, if Rade is out there…”
“Fuck.” Keir whirled around and smacked his palm into the nearest column. The boom echoed out over the desolation. He kept his head lowered, powerful shoulders heaving up and down as he struggled to stay calm.
Then he drew a purposeful breath through his nose and schooled his features as he turned to me.
“Rade is lost. So Eira will find him.” He stated it like it was a given, nodding several times, reassuring himself.
“If he hasn’t killed his qareen yet, she’ll have guided him toward Ashorah, too.
He might already be there. We’ll go that way.
Either we’ll meet Rade on the way, meet him there, or we can stock up in the city before we conduct a more thorough search for him.
Gather food, water, camels.” He crossed his arms as he did the math.
“Under normal conditions, that would be a two-day journey, but with the heat and the sand, I’d say our travel time will be doubled. ”
“We’d go faster if you shifted.”
His head snapped up, and I cringed. “Absolutely not.”
“Keir, if Rade—”
“No.” A hammer falling down, ending the argument.
Part of me wanted to shout at him that it didn’t matter. That we could be risking Rade’s life—not to mention our own—by spending more time in the Wastelands. That we didn’t know what sorts of creatures lived in the Wastelands or the Mirror Realm.
That whatever King Zaid had done to the Kaldfolk had absolutely nothing to do with me and that he didn’t have to be so remarkably horrible every chance he got—especially when I was spending the last few days I had trying to save his king.
“Say it,” Keir dared. He stepped closer, that challenge shining in his yellow irises. “I can feel you censoring yourself. You’ve got something to say, say it.”
“Fine. I think it’s stupid to risk death—ours and Rade’s—instead of shifting.”
“He’s not going to die.”
“But if he does—”
“He won’t,” he snapped, voice dipping to a threatening growl.
“I know about the bond,” I said, and felt slightly victorious at his surprised blink. “And I don’t particularly want to be tied to you, either. But I think it’ll be worth it if it means getting out of here faster.”
“What you think doesn’t matter,” he retorted. “You are not entitled to the bond, and I refuse to let you have it. Eira will keep Rade safe, and we will walk. End of discussion.”
We stared off for another few moments, both our glares strong enough to melt flesh from bone. He was being proud and stubborn, and it was going to get all three of us killed.
Finally, I bit out, “We’ll need water.”
“We’ll use our shoes.”
“Our feet will burn on the sand.”
“Then we’ll burn our feet.” He slipped off his other shoe and headed back for the pool.
By the time Keir allowed us to stop walking, the pads of my feet were a blistered mess.
I’d only hissed with that first step onto the simmering sand, but I’d gritted my teeth and choked back any other sound.
Contrary to Keir’s belief, I had experienced plenty of pain in my life.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle it.
We trekked through the Wastelands well into the night, making the most of the hours without the sweltering heat, and some of the tension bled out of my body as the sand cooled.
But like this place was some cruel joke, once the sky darkened, the temperature plummeted.
I suddenly wished Keir had his fur cloak.
I kept my arms crossed tightly over my chest, but with no help from my flimsy dress, I couldn’t stop shivering.
It wasn’t until the full moon shone brightly that Keir finally slowed. “We’ll need to start again before the sun is up,” he said. “But we can rest a few hours.”
I dropped to the sand without a word, carefully placing my water-filled boots beside me, and drew my knees as close to my chest as possible. Every inch of my skin was sticky with dried sweat, and I could still feel the hot touch of the sun on the top of my head despite the chill.
Keir lowered himself easily. If it weren’t for the vicious sunburns marking every visible part of his body, I would’ve thought he was absolutely fine. With an exhausted sigh, he turned to me. “How much do you know about this place?”
I shrugged. “Not much.”
“Your king nearly died out here. Surely he shared some tips for staying alive.”
I gave him a bland look. “You know how he stayed alive.”
“He didn’t tell you anything that might be helpful? Some place he took shelter, maybe? Or what food he scavenged?”
I’d been racking my mind for those same answers for hours, searching the recesses of my memories for any tidbit that could tell us where to go or what to do.
But I’d never personally spoken to King Zaid, and all the stories about his time in the Wastelands were focused on the jinn that had appeared to him.
It was a story of Shaya’s benevolence, not survival.
I shrugged helplessly. “He was only in the Wastelands for three days.”
“Did you never ask what it was like?”
“We didn’t have that sort of relationship.”
He shook his head with a dark laugh. “Unbelievable.”
I bristled. “What?”
“This is your fault. The least you could do is offer some knowledge on your own land.”
“My fault?” I sputtered. I’m not the one who forced you to lick my blood off that blade. I drew a slow breath before I launched us into another argument. With forced calm, I said, “The Wastelands are not Ashoran territory.”
“Oh, please. When you were homesick, you looked here. To the Wastelands.”
“Because it was as close as I could get—”
“You knew.” He glared at me, accusation shining in his gold eyes, and I knew we were no longer talking about the Wastelands. “You knew you had no magic. How could you let it get this far?”
That emptiness inside me lifted its slumbering head, awoken by the deep pang of guilt that reverberated through me. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit.” He dug his fingers into his hair, not caring that it messed up the long braid. “I begged you, Majesty. I begged you not to give us false hope. You chose to do it anyway.”
Claws raked across my heart like something was trying to burrow in. That hole left behind when the gods had abandoned me in the Eye of Ketet widened. I rubbed at the spot on my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You’re sorry,” he scoffed, turning his eyes up to the mosaic of stars in the night sky. Then he shook his head and rolled over, giving me his back.
I stared at him for a long moment, eyes burning.
I’d tried to do the right thing. That was all I’d ever wanted to do.
Do right by Amunet, by Nadia and Tabia, by Ashorah, by the gods.
But I’d failed. I had lied to protect my queen and only succeeded in damning her, along with all of Kaldfold and Ashorah.
I couldn’t do a single gods-damn thing right.
I had the oddest sensation of being outside my own body, like I was gazing at my reflection in a mirror, seeing myself as Keir did, as everyone must. A sorry slip of a girl with unremarkable features who had let herself be broken by supervisors and overseers within a single year, who was weak and pathetic, who was now responsible for so much impending destruction.
Keir was right. This was all my fault. What happened to Rade, in here or out there, what would happen to Velka and Siv and little Milena, all of it was my fault. What should I have done? Risk the Gods-Chosen? Was that the braver thing, the right thing?
I watched myself rub at my chest again. The Wastelands would be a fitting resting place for me. I’d been alone at the start; I would be alone at the end.
As if I were standing a few feet away, I observed impassively as I pressed my hand harder against my chest, right over the X, and dug my nail in until it broke skin, until a stream of blood trickled out.
The pain was distant. Like it wasn’t even mine.
I drew my nail down, retracing my mark of shame, renewing it.
And then I traced it again. And again. Excavating old flesh, delving deeper and deeper, blood coating my hand. The scar that marked me as lesser, as lacking. Not strong and kind like Velka. Not brave like Rade or even little Milena. Not powerful like Keir and Amunet.
Amunet had given me the X before, but now I bestowed it on myself.
Even as I watched tears sear down my cheeks, watched myself shiver as I lay down on the sand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this pathetic girl deserved everything she got.