Asha moved deeper into the arena, surrounded by roars of applause. It stank like too many men standing too close together. The arena bowled out and upward, half full of draksors watching matches play out in the pit below.
But news of the Iskari’s arrival traveled faster than a windstorm and soon the roars turned to nervous whispers. The clapping hands became clenched fists. As everyone turned to look at her, the crowd dispersed, not wanting to be anywhere near the girl who’d called down dragonfire on their homes and stolen the lives of their loved ones.
“Hey,” came a voice at her shoulder. Asha looked up into her cousin’s face. Safire dutifully kept her gaze on the ground at their feet, littered with olive pits and pistachio shells. The hood of her new mantle hid her face, helping her blend in. “Where have you been? We were worried.”
“I’m fine,” Asha said as they passed cages full of criminal slaves behind bars, waiting to be sent down to the pit. She wondered what their crimes were. “Where’s Dax?”
Safire nodded to the crimson canopy at the top of the arena. The pit was ringed with benches, like the ripple made by a stone dropped into a pool, and the dragon king’s tent rose high above these ripples. It had the clearest view of the fighting down below.
They made their way toward it, up the sloping path, away from the slave cages. When they were surrounded by cheering draksors on all sides, Safire stepped in close, keeping her voice low, her mouth near Asha’s ear.
“There’s a rumor going around.” Safire cast quick glances around them, checking for eavesdroppers. “People are saying someone broke into Jarek’s home, attacked him, and made off with one of his slaves.”
A prickling fear spread across Asha’s skin.
She thought of her brother, pinned to a brightly woven rug in one of the palace salons. Remembered Jarek’s thick hands around his throat and the way Dax’s legs kicked as he fought for breath.
Jarek didn’t like people taking his things.
Asha’s eyes fixed on the tent up ahead. Its red silk walls billowed, straining against the wind. All she had to do was give Dax the information, and then she could leave.
More spectators parted as the two cousins approached the crimson canopy. Asha stepped into the tent while Safire stayed behind.
Her father sat in a gilt throne. He nodded to Asha as she entered, a question in his eyes. Why aren’t you hunting?
I’m trying, she wanted to tell him. Instead, she looked to Dax, sitting with his scrublander near the front of the canopy. Roa wore that blue sandskarf wrapped loosely around her shoulders and head. In the desert, sandskarves were worn to protect from the wind and dust, the cold and heat.
Asha watched the way Dax leaned toward the girl, his hand gripping the bench behind her. He kept glancing at her, then away, chewing his lip, bouncing his knee, frowning hard.
When it came to girls, Dax was usually all confidence and swagger. He knew the right things to say. Things that would make a girl glow, then pine for him as she fell asleep at night.
But this . . . this was something else.
Roa seemed tense. Her back was rigid and her hands were gripped firmly in her lap, as if she were not enjoying herself. She didn’t even seem to notice Dax. Instead, she stared straight ahead, out over the pit, her white hawk perching on a leather patch on her shoulder. Like she was thinking of a hundred things other than the boy at her side.
Perhaps plotting to kill all of Firgaard in its sleep, thought Asha.
It was dangerous, bringing her here. So close to the king.
Suddenly, someone stepped in front of Asha, blocking Dax and Roa from view.
She looked up into the face of her betrothed.
Glossy hair. Strong, severe jaw. Freshly shaved cheeks. The only thing out of place was the black bruise blooming across his temple.
“Asha.” The way his hands clasped hers—like a snare—said that despite his drunkenness, he remembered everything. His saber was sheathed at his hip. “Where have you been?”
Sweat prickled along her hairline.
“Sleeping,” she said, matching her voice to his. “I had a rough night.”
He leaned in close. Her body tensed the way it did the moment before a dragon struck.
“Give him back.” His lips brushed her unscarred cheek. “And we can forget it ever happened.”
Asha tried to pull her hands free, but his grip tightened. He spoke so softly, anyone standing nearby might think he was whispering words of love.
“If you don’t, when I find him—and I will find him—I’ll make you watch everything.”
He thought she felt about his slave the way Rayan felt about Lillian. It astonished her.
“Go right ahead,” she said.
When her father looked over at them, Jarek released her.
Asha saw the troubled look in her father’s eyes. She shook her head, telling him not to worry. Stepping around Jarek, she took her seat next to Dax and wiped her sweaty hands on the scratchy fabric of Maya’s kaftan.
Jarek had nothing to gain by bringing her offense to light. Jarek wanted Asha. He wanted her the way he wanted the most lethal of sabers or the most hellish of stallions. He wanted to conquer and own her. And, if the whispers were true, if he really was planning to take the throne, their marriage would make it that much easier. He wasn’t about to sabotage his chance by exposing Asha’s crimes. Not when there were other ways to punish her.
Jarek followed her to the bench and sat down, pressing his leg against her own.
Seeing it, Dax tensed beside Asha, then met her gaze.
Before she could tell Dax she’d done as he asked, Jarek leaned in, interrupting. “My soldats tell me you went out hunting yesterday.”
Asha straightened.
“They said you went out alone.”
If Jarek suspected the truth, if he discovered what her father promised in exchange for Kozu’s head . . .
“Perhaps she only needed to breathe,” a honeyed voice interrupted. Asha looked to the scrublander on Dax’s other side, who stared at Jarek’s leg pinning Asha’s.
Jarek’s eyes narrowed. “Did I ask for your opinion, scrublander?”
Roa’s hawk puffed its white chest. Its silver eyes glared at the commandant.
“In the scrublands,” said Roa, “no one needs to ask for a woman’s opinion. It’s expected that she gives it freely.”
Asha looked to Dax. He should have warned Roa about Jarek and what happened when he was challenged.
“And that,” Jarek sneered, “is why your people will never rise above the dirt they live in.”
Roa’s eyes darkened. It was the only outward sign that his words affected her. Dax, on the other hand, oozed anger. His thin frame buzzed with a dangerous, reckless energy, reminding Asha of all the times he’d stepped into Jarek’s path as a child. All the times he’d turned himself into a target to protect others.
Before he could do it again, Asha bent her head toward her brother’s.
“He’s in the temple,” she whispered so only Dax could hear. “Ask the guardian called Maya.”
It worked.