He lifted his hand to tick the items off his fingers. “I made what I think is a solid alliance with Gadi, Intizara, Nadim, and Kali. We’ll compete as a team for the next round. I memorized the weapon placement, and I’ve sparred enough to be as ready as I can be. You’ve fulfilled your end of our bargain, but I haven’t. I still owe you a lesson before tomorrow. In case I die, remember?”
He lifted a brow of his own, a clear challenge he hoped she wouldn’t be able to resist.
She held out for a long moment, and though he couldn’t see the struggle on her face, he knew her now. The little finger she tapped rapidly against her thigh, the way her eyes narrowed when she looked at him—she was considering saying no.
The thought left him feeling anchorless, a boat tossed into the heart of a storm without a rudder.
Yl’ Haliq, he was in trouble.
When did he start thinking of Sajda as his anchor? She’d tear him to pieces if she knew. It had been hard enough to get her to accept his friendship. Trying for more would be asking for her to cut ties completely.
Not that he wanted more.
Probably.
She rolled her eyes and stalked toward him, folding the parchment as she went. “Fine. We’ll have a lesson. But only because I want to know the outside world, and you might die tomorrow.”
Relief was a swift, shaky river of painful hope that surged through him like a monsoon.
He was definitely in trouble.
“Where should we go?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be washing the privy closets on the third level, so if we can find some place in that vicinity, it will help throw off the guards’ suspicions if we get caught.”
She scanned the honeycomb of cells above them, and then led him up the closest set of stairs to the third level. They exited behind a row of seats perched high above the arena floor. Several prisoners were sweeping and scrubbing the corridor to their right. Sajda turned left, and he followed her past a long row of seats, another stairwell, and finally to a door that led to a room twice the size of his cell. Faint beams of sunshine from the corridor’s skylight gave the room a purple-gray twilight gloom. A large woven rug covered the floor and cherrywood lounging couches with pillows in deep jewel tones were scattered about.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“It’s where the people with weak stomachs sit during the competition.”
“If they have weak stomachs, why come at all?”
She gave him her people-are-generally-idiots, what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it? look.
“All right, let’s sit.” He sank into the cushions of a couch that rested against the far wall, out of sight of the doorway in case a guard walked by.
She eyed him warily and sat on the opposite end of the couch. She was tense, fists clenched, braced for him to approach subjects she didn’t want to discuss.
“What do you want to learn?” he asked.
She watched him for a moment, and then said, “Where should I go when I get out of here?”
He eased back against a peacock blue pillow and considered her question. “That depends. If you want to stay in Akram—”
“I don’t.” The words rushed out, cracking her icy facade for an instant.
Her words hit him harder than they should have. He had to stay in Akram. There was no choice in the matter. He’d selfishly assumed she’d stay too.
Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Then let’s talk about the surrounding kingdoms. There’s Loch Talam to the north, Balavata to the south, and Ravenspire to the east.”
“I want stars and wide-open spaces.” The longing in her voice lingered in her eyes.
This was the real Sajda. The girl who’d been trapped underground for most of her life, forced to be with crowds of dangerous people. He wanted to tear open Maqbara’s ceiling and let her breathe. Let her revel in the vast reaches of the sky above.
“There are small settlements along the road through the Samaal Desert, which is between here and Loch Talam. I know you said you don’t want to stay in Akram, and that’s fine, but you can’t find any more wide-open spaces and star-filled skies than our desert. If you want the north, Loch Talam has a lot of lakes and rivers, and it’s green and rocky. Mountains, hills, and friendly people. To the south, Balavata has the coastline, so you could have the sea with your stars.”
She smiled, slow and wistful, and he caught himself before he moved closer to her. “I might like the sea.”
“You might.” He made himself smile at her, and she frowned.
“That makes you sad.”
“I’d miss you.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
He laughed, though it hurt to do so. “Because we’re friends. I care about you. I want to be around you.”
A sound drifted in from the doorway, and Javan held his breath as the sharp clip of a guard’s boots moved past. If he was caught in here, he’d have to talk fast to convince the guard he’d been cleaning. Maybe Sajda would have a convincing story ready. Something that would spare him a beating that could make surviving the next round impossible. He met her eyes, and they stared at each other in silence until the footsteps faded.
“Friendship is a lot of work.” Her expression challenged him to deny it.
“Anything that matters takes effort sometimes, but friendships are also comfortable and easy. Like this.”
“This is easy?” Her brow called him a liar.
He laughed again, and this time he meant it. “When do we ever run out of things to talk about? Or argue about? Or compete over?”
She smiled, but it was still haunted.
He could ask her what was bothering her and risk sending her running, or he could move on to the next subject she wanted to learn about. Before he could make up his mind, she said, “The only magical creatures I know about are those from Llorenyae. Are there others?”
“Yes. Mardushkas from Morcant are sorceresses. The queen of Ravenspire is a mardushka because her mother was from Morcant. There are rumors of a fae Wish Granter in the southern kingdom of Súndraille and of other fae living in Balavata. Loch Talam has a few who still know the old ways to work magic.”
“What about dark elves?” This time the question didn’t just crack her facade. It shattered it. Her eyes were full of misery, and her lips trembled.
He shivered and started to tell her they were disturbing wielders of nightmares who somehow swallowed the essence of things and used it as a weapon, but something in her expression stopped him. Feeling his way carefully, he said, “Most of them live in Ystaria, a kingdom far to the north of Loch Talam. A mountain range full of dwarves separates the kingdoms.”
“Are they dangerous?” She traced her fingers over the runes on the cuffs she wore, and he had the sudden, sickening realization that iron held both fae and elven magic in check, especially when used with runes. Akram had won its freedom from slavery to the dark elves six generations ago using weapons, traps, and cages made of iron.