And, in truth, what had she done to prove otherwise?
Spider loosened his hold on her neck. “Kick it toward me, and I’ll let her go.”
Shahrzad gave Irsa a small smile of reassurance, then toed the dagger in his direction.
He released Irsa and shoved her toward the entrance.
When Irsa looked back at Shahrzad in hesitation, her sister spurred her onward with a warning glance.
Irsa wanted to stay. Wanted to beg Spider to see reason.
But she was afraid. She’d already cost Shahrzad her dagger and didn’t know what assistance she could provide beyond a poignant plea.
So she burst into the desert sun, her heart clamoring in her chest and her pride laid waste at her feet.
Frantic, she began searching for help. The eyes she most needed to find belonged to a tall boy with broad shoulders and the easy smile of a summer afternoon. A boy who had loved her sister since they were children.
A boy who would thrash first and ask questions later.
Tariq would know what to do. Tariq would wring Spider’s scrawny neck.
Irsa stumbled through the sand toward Tariq’s tent, the blood roaring in her ears.
“Irsa?”
She tried to ignore the familiar voice nearby. The voice of the boy she most wanted to find. A boy whose kind face she found herself searching for time and again. No. Irsa did not need Rahim. She needed Tariq—a boy of determination and action.
“Irsa?” Rahim fell into step beside her, his gait unfaltering. “Why are you running through—”
“Where is Tariq?” she gasped.
“On a scouting expedition to a nearby emirate.” He angled into her path, his eyes narrowing. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Irsa shook her head, her fear spiking in a hot flash. “No, I just—I need Tariq!” Her gaze darted every which way, frantic.
“Why?”
A rush of air flew from her lips. “Because I have to do—something.” She pushed past him. “You don’t understand. Shazi—”
He took her by the shoulders, his touch strangely soothing. Strengthening. “Tell me what you need.”
No. Neither of them was a leader. She’d always known Rahim to be a boy who followed. Just as she was a girl who ran. A girl who failed to do anything, save spare her own skin.
She should have grabbed Shahrzad’s dagger. Or done something.
The guilt clawed at her stomach. Irsa began to tremble, even beneath the sweltering sun. She felt Rahim’s grip tighten on her shoulders.
Offering more strength.
Irsa stood straight, clenching her fists.
Shazi would not give up. She would not give in to fear. Nor would she waver in the sand, like a ridiculous ninny. She would take action. Fight to the death. And be smart about it, as only Shahrzad could.
Though Irsa continued to shake, she kept her voice steady as she worked through the beginnings of a plan. “Did Tariq take his falcon with him?”
“No.” A flicker of puzzlement passed across Rahim’s face. “Zoraya scouted the terrain in advance this morning, so he left her behind to rest.”
“Rahim”—Irsa took a breath—“will you do something for me?”
He did not even bother to reply. He simply held out his hand.
And Irsa took it.
AN INDELIBLE LINE
SHAHRZAD REFUSED TO BE COWED BY THE GANGLY boy standing before her.
In another world—in another life—she might have pitied him.
But he’d threatened Irsa. An indelible line had been drawn.
And, despite his best efforts to conceal it, she could see his fingers shaking around her dagger.
Move slowly.
“What is your name?” she began in a quiet tone.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ll be the one to ask the questions.”
She stood still as he paced around her in a circle.
His agitation was worsening.
“How?” With every erratic footfall, streams of light bounded across his face, casting his patchy beard in sinister shadow.
Shahrzad clasped her hands before her. “Pardon?”
“How did you survive?”
She chose her next words with care. “I told stories.”
He halted midstep. His disdain was clear before he even spoke.
“You told stories? You expect me to believe that monster kept you alive because you amused him?”
Shahrzad leveled a withering stare in his direction. “Believe what you choose to believe. But the proof stands before you, all the same.”
He made a sound of choked disbelief. She almost recoiled from its harshness. “Are you trying to provoke me? Are you truly that big a fool?”
For the second time, Shahrzad lifted her palms in a placating gesture. “I’m not trying to provoke you . . .” She waited patiently, hoping the boy would take the bait.
“Teymur. My name is Teymur.”
“Teymur.” Shahrzad curved her lips into a careful smile. “I’m not trying to provoke you,” she repeated. “I’m trying to understand you.”
A poor choice of words. Shahrzad realized it as soon as they passed into comprehension.
“Understand me?” Teymur snarled. “You couldn’t possibly understand me!”