The door of the carriage burst open under our feet.
Rows of empty seats stared back at us. Dusty glass hurricane lights juddered quietly from the motion of the train. Shazad and I lowered our weapons. One of the windows was shattered, a table overturned.
Wordlessly, we moved forward, my finger on my trigger. My other hand rested on the spare gun on my other side.
We moved through the train together, one empty carriage at a time. Halfway, Shazad gave voice to the fear that had started to grow in my mind. “The others should’ve made it this far by now.”
I flexed my grip around my gun and wished for something to shoot at.
When we wrenched open the next door, a gap an arm’s-length wide stretched before the next carriage. Standing on one side of it, I thought it seemed as wide as the Dev’s Valley.
I couldn’t look down. I wouldn’t look down. Not with the rails rushing by in a blur below. But we had to keep going. We needed to find the weapon before it found us.
“Step back,” I told Shazad, storing my gun away. “I’ll go first.” She didn’t have time to argue; I grabbed the door frame, swung myself backward, and flung my body forward.
The wind whistled in my ears, daring me to fall.
I crashed into the other carriage. The door didn’t give. I stumbled; my arm lashed out. I was grappling through thin air as my heart threatened to drop into my stomach and take my whole body straight into the rails with it.
My hand closed around something solid and metal: a ladder to the left of the door. I heaved myself upright, shaking as I clung to the cold metal bar. All I could see were my hands and the metal. Shazad shouted something I couldn’t hear over the wind.
I turned as far as I could to grab on to her hand. Her fingers were on the edge of my eyesight, stretching for me.
The door clattered open. All I saw was a golden uniform that looked like my death.
But Shazad was faster than death.
She dove across empty space. I caught the flash of a knife in her hand and then red across gold and white. If the soldier cried out before he went under the rails, it was lost in the drone of the train.
I didn’t see him die. All I saw was Shazad landing too hard on her ankle.
Her foot giving out below her.
The wind grabbing her dark hair, tying it around her neck like a noose.
Her eyes catching mine as she fell toward the rails.
twenty-three
For the longest moment of my life, there was nothing but air between my fingers.
Then my hand clamped over Shazad’s wrist. Relief engulfed me as her other arm swung up and her fingers latched onto my arm, like some greater force was drawing us together.
One of Shazad’s feet caught on the narrow ledge, just enough for me to keep hold of her. Her weight battled between my grip and gravity as she tried to pull herself out of the dangerous backward lean that could turn into a fall if either of us loosened our grip.
My fingers shook with the will to not let go. She was shouting something that the wind carried away. “I can’t hear you!” I screamed back.
“More of you?” There was another voice on the air, like something spiraling out of a dark dream. I’d forgotten about the open door and the uniforms behind it, my back exposed to them so they could put a knife through it any second. “We’re practically invaded.”
I knew this voice. Sharp and northern and threatening to put a bullet straight through Tamid’s leg, holding me at gunpoint, speaking to the Gallan general in Fahali.
Commander Naguib’s laugh swirled on the wind.
My eyes locked with Shazad’s. I couldn’t look away, not even a little bit, not without letting her slip. The rails rushed by below her scrabbling feet, her sheema loose and whipping violently in the air. My arm trembled, trying to pull her back to standing.
But Shazad could see everything. She could see behind me straight into the carriage. She just didn’t have the gun.
“Someone drag them in,” Naguib ordered lazily.
Shazad’s eyes went to the gun on my hip and then over my shoulder. I knew exactly what she wanted me to do. I could pull my gun, swing around, and put a bullet straight into Naguib’s head.
Only I couldn’t do it without dropping her.
Let me go. Her lips shaped the words into the air.
She was willing to kill and die for this cause. Because if Commander Naguib didn’t die, we were all dead. From somewhere deep inside me I saw Tamid’s face. I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who left people.
My hand tightened on her wrist.
Arms grabbed my waist, dragging me backward, carrying Shazad with me as we were pulled into the safety of the carriage. Well, safety wasn’t exactly the word.
Hands searched me for weapons. I pressed my forehead into the carpet, panting while they scoured my body. My legs were shaking so badly, I couldn’t have stood or fought anyway. It took Shazad’s hand on my elbow to help me up.
We were in one of the luxury private carriages. It was filled with neat uniforms and our own battered rebels. I counted about two dozen soldiers.
Two of them were holding Jin. He was on his knees and he looked like he was struggling not to slump onto the floor. But he gave me a weak, rueful smile, which I tried to return.
Hala had a gun to the back of her head, arms tied behind her. At first I didn’t see Bahi, and for one stupid second I hoped he had been smart enough to get off the train. Then I recognized him, shirt red at the collar from the blood gushing out of his nose. He barely looked like himself.
And standing by the polished wooden bar like the host of some demented party was Naguib. “Well, this is a sorry little mission.” His attention skimmed over me, then veered back. “And if it isn’t the blue-eyed bitch. Not allied with the traitor, you said?”
“Circumstances have changed.” I picked words Shazad would say, nice and sharp and clean, because if I used my own they might get me shot. “Nothing quite like a gun to the head to make you join the other side, Commander.”
“I’m sure.” Naguib stepped away from the bar in that unnatural nervous gait. “And I’m sure my brother here was very persuasive.” His foot lashed out into Jin’s ribs on the last word, doubling him over onto the thick red carpet. I didn’t react. I wouldn’t give Naguib the satisfaction.
“You know”—he straightened his cuffs—“you might as well tell me where my other would-be usurper of a brother is now and spare yourself a lot of misery. After all, I have seven of you, and I only need one of you to talk. In fact, I only need one of you alive at all.” He touched the pistol at his hip.
“You’re obviously a very poor gambler,” Shazad said. I reckoned it was her accent that made Naguib finally notice her.
“Shazad Al’Hamad?”
Shazad batted her eyes at him like we really were guests at a party. “You’ll forgive me, have we met?”
His expression curdled. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect the great general’s only daughter to notice one of the Sultan’s many sons. Though many of us noticed you.”