1. Chapter 1
Chapter one
Erix
The smoke from the funeral pyres stained the sunrise red. The thick haze hanging in the air burned my eyes and lungs, and I welcomed it.
I took another deep breath in through my nose, savoring the way the air stung the back of my throat as I moved into the next deep lunge of my morning forms. Any distraction was better than the ephemeral flickers dancing at the edge of my vision, adding to the mental noise of magical chatters in my head.
The smoke reminded me of why I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Two clansmen—a rider and his daughter—had been returned to the sands last night after their tent was attacked by a bone spider. By the time anybody had been able to respond to the screams, the rider’s arms and legs were gone.
I kept my eyes on the horizon as I moved into the next pose. The smell of burning bodies might call a gravehawk, but Lord Elion had refused to give his clansmen anything less than a proper funeral. None had argued with him.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision, and I wavered in moving through the form that was so familiar to me it was like breathing. I blew out a breath through my nose in annoyance. This was not the first time it had happened.
The dark shapes moved like the edge of a robe disappearing as somebody turned a corner just before you caught sight of them.
The flickers were even more distracting than the voices I had tried—and failed—to ignore my whole life.
Now they were joined by an odd tingling, like sparks dancing in my throat, and the ever-present metallic taste of magic on my tongue.
Practicing my forms every morning was one of the few ways I had found peace in the past, but today, they were only a reminder of the lack of balance that permeated every inch of my being.
The borrowed saber felt wrong in my hand—too short and light compared to the one that lay broken and wrapped in a blanket at the foot of my sleeping mat.
Worse, though, was the empty space beside me. The hollowness in the air was palpable in Keera’s absence.
She would still be laying in our shared tent, sleeping heavily. My heart twisted at the memory of her as I had left, with her hand outstretched as if reaching for me, even in unconsciousness.
But I couldn’t lay still anymore, and I didn’t have it in me to wake her when the vestiges of her poisoning still left deep purple circles beneath her golden eyes.
So, I let her sleep while the whispers in my skull, reverberating loudly enough that they drowned out all else, drove me to try and find peace with a sword in hand.
Finally, I lowered my hands, the tip of my saber pointing straight toward the sand beneath my feet. I let out a final long exhale, imagining the knot of power at the base of my skull loosening as I did so.
It helped.
Not enough.
Still, it was enough for me to turn away from the horizon and walk back into the enveloping circle of tents that outlined the large encampment.
The sounds of the clans waking for the day drifted on the air, barely loud enough to disturb the quiet of the wilderness—a murmured conversation here, the snuffle of a hunting dog there.
I followed the calming nickering of horses toward the closest enclosure. Alza already waited at the edge, as if she had expected my arrival. I reached out my hand to pat her on the nose, and she lipped at my fingers affectionately.
As I ran my hand over the velvety softness of her muzzle and let the warmth of her skin soothe me, I took stock of her body. Thick muscle bunched and stretched under her midnight coat, and her posture was easy. She was strong and well rested, ready for a long journey.
And that is exactly what awaited us.
The Heart lay heavily in my pocket, its weight seemingly disproportionate to its size.
The two broken halves clacked together occasionally, a constant reminder of the task that lay before me.
It was my duty to carry the Heart across the desert and restore it to the temple at the edge of the sea—to find a way to heal its brokenness.
Guilt gnawed beneath my ribs, and I leaned forward to rest my forehead against Alza’s, closing my eyes against the intensity of the feeling.
I should have left already. As the threat of madness loomed closer every day, doubts began to dig their talons into my mind.
They told me I would not make it to the ocean before my great-grandfather’s curse took me or that I would not be able to find a way to heal the Heart even if I did survive the journey.
But every time I thought about climbing onto Alza’s back and setting out toward the rising sun, a heavy weight rooted my boots to the ground.
Kelvadan suffered, and so did the clans—the very people I had vowed to heal the desert for.
No matter which path I chose—riding toward the ocean to heal the Heart or riding toward the mountains to free Kelvadan—some would be left to suffer.
Visions of the starvation and subjugation that would face those I turned away from froze the blood in my veins, turning my resolve into indecision.
As if my thoughts had awoken her, the tether between Keera and me shivered, and I knew she felt it too.
The weight of responsibility tied us to these clans and to the city we had fled from.
I didn’t need to feel the heady cocktail of guilt and anger that radiated down our bond to understand.
Just as I had carried the burden of wondering what had befallen the clans during my time in Kelvadan, now she worried for the city that she had been prepared to die to protect.
On one side of the desert lay the mountains and the goal of freeing the Great City. On the other edge lay the ocean and the need to heal the desert’s Heart.
Once again, Keera and I found ourselves torn in two.
Summoned by my thoughts—and likely awoken by my tumultuous emotions—the air shifted as Keera approached. She stepped up beside me. Slowly but firmly, she slid her hand into mine and squeezed.
I squeezed back. The scrape of the barely healed cut across my palm mirrored the scratch of her own. We had made each other a promise when we sliced our hands and joined our blood together in the sand.
We would face these challenges together. As husband and wife.
Wife. The term echoed through my mind at odd intervals as I watched her sleep, or as we rode side by side, patrolling the sands for approaching bone spiders.
It was a strange comfort to be able to put a word to the way our destinies were bound together, even if they had started intertwining themselves before I even knew her name.
Our blood had mixed, and our burdens were now shared, even if one lay at the foot of the mountains and the other at the edge of the ocean.
I grimaced, pulling my face away from Alza’s. Once again, the desert sought to tear the bond it had gifted us asunder, even as we grasped it tighter.
“I’m happy to see Cail eating,” Keera said by way of good morning.
My gaze drifted over to the dappled mare, whose head was indeed bent over a trough of arrowgrass. The protrusions of her hipbones were sharper than they should be, though, and the reminder of why she had stopped eating brought a hollow ache to the pit of my stomach.
My father was gone. Part of me wondered if Cail blamed herself for being the mount he had sat on when the arrow pierced his chest—or maybe the horses he had always loved so much felt the hole his death left as much as I did.
I tightened my grip on Keera’s hand. He had beseeched me with his dying breath to be the leader he had hoped me to be. But I still floundered, called to fulfill the purpose I had sworn myself to at the ocean while pulled backward by the suffering in Kelvadan.
“The spy Lord Dhara sent should be back in the next day or two.” Keera broke the silence again, a clear attempt to pull me from my swirling thoughts. “Once we have more information on what has become of Kelvadan, we can make a plan.”
I nodded, but I feared I already knew what had to be done. “We will decide then,” I agreed anyway.
“For now, we must go out and hunt,” Keera said. It almost brought a smile to my lips, despite my melancholy mood, to hear her focus on survival remaining so steadfast despite the chaos of recent weeks. Keera was strong, and she would endure no matter what fate lay ahead, for me or the desert.
“I thought I might have seen some oryx on the horizon,” I agreed. “We should be able to ensure that several stewpots have meat tonight.”
With that, we both turned to gather our supplies and trek out into the sands.