“Later, little goat,” he said. “Now we have to run.”
We didn’t run, exactly, but we did move very quickly. The Little Rose had clearly never made such a trek before, but true to her word, she did not give voice to a single complaint. Arwa’s spare shoes must have pinched her, and she couldn’t have been accustomed to wearing shoes at all, but she followed us. Even Saoud was as impressed as he could be, with his own exhaustion to worry about.
Whatever peace of mind we had bought by spinning was wearing off quickly, and I could feel my own focus begin to fray. We made no attempt at clever misdirection. We had neither the time nor the skill to lay a false trail, and we were too tired to even try. Instead, we made for the mountains by the straightest route we could and hoped for a river to cross. We found it an hour after dawn, right when, presumably, the Little Rose’s breakfast was being delivered to her empty room and the alarm at the castle was being raised. It was little more than a brook, but it was wide enough to serve us. We waded upstream for an hour, which Saoud deemed enough to confuse any hounds, and hopefully enough to slow down the experienced human trackers, and then we turned toward the mountains again.
It was slower going after that, as Arwa and Tariq both flagged when their lack of sleep and struggling lungs bogged them down. I was exhausted too, my legs aching to match my arms, when Saoud finally found us a place to camp. It was a little hollow, a dip in the gentle hills that footed against the mountains. It would hide us even in daylight as long as we built no fire, and we were too tired to find fuel for one in any case. Instead we laid out our bedrolls, and slept as close to one another as we could. Saoud and I took the ends of the row without discussion, but the Little Rose hesitated with her blanket in her hands as we finished setting ourselves up.
“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” she asked, as polite as she might have been in her father’s hall.
“No,” said Saoud. “It’s too cold. Lie here, between Arwa and Yashaa.”
It was dreadfully improper, of course. At least Arwa was yet a child. But Saoud was right. It was cold, and this was hardly the time for gallantry. Arwa, bless her heart, took the blanket and spread it out without a second thought, making a space for the Little Rose between us as though we had been sleeping thus for weeks.
“I’ll watch first, if you like,” I said to Saoud, thinking to make up for my folly.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “The climb took more from you than the wait did from me. I’ll wake you later.”
He turned on his blanket so that he was facing away from us, but still gave some heat to Tariq. There was no talking after that, but even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t fall asleep. To see the Little Rose so unexpectedly after all this time, and to feel pity for her instead of the hate to which I had become accustomed, made me restless. I could feel her behind me, and the touch reminded me of the hours we had spent together before the curse. My memories were fragile things, but the feel of her was stronger, and my mind raced. I had so many questions, and we had no time.
“Yashaa,” she whispered after a while. She said it slowly, like her memories were finally catching up to her in the wake of her flight. I hoped her father’s hounds were much, much farther behind. “I remember a Yashaa.”
“Yes, princess,” I said, just as quietly. If Saoud heard us, he gave no sign. “I was there.”
“Your mother,” she said, nearly stuttering over the words. “Does she yet live?”
“She is dying,” I said. I made my voice flat and grey. “She was ill when she sent us out on the road, and she was very sick when she sent us away. I do not know if she lives.”
“I am sorry,” she said.
Rage filled me. My mother struggled to breathe, and I wanted the Little Rose to know what that was like. But also, I didn’t. I couldn’t. My hate boiled against my pity, and I thought I would drown in them both.
“Save your pity for Arwa and Tariq,” I told her. “Your curse killed their parents. At least I still have mine.”
She did not reply for a long time, so long that I thought—hoped—that she had fallen asleep. But then she spoke again.
“When we wake,” she said, “you must take the blanket. I will carry it when we walk, but first it must be checked for threads.”
Fury nearly took me again. She could not even sleep with a frayed blanket, and we were stuck with her care upon the road.
“I am sorry,” she said again, “to be a burden. But if there are threads, I will find them, and if I find them, I will spin them. Yashaa, you promised me.”
Saoud gave an odd cough. I didn’t know what to think, so I sat up and looked at the Little Rose. The sun was high in the sky now, and I could see that her face, though it was as brown as mine, lacked the glow of stored sunshine. She had been inside that tower room for a very long time.