There was a traitorous pang in her heart, the moment she thought the word.
Home was in Soreia, the southern kingdom. She thought of the red Sand Caves, and the scalding Demon’s Dunes, guarded by spiraling rock monuments that stretched into the sky, carved with sigils of queens long ago cast to the stars. She ached for the bustling trade days by the water’s edge, the crash of waves collapsing on shore, the distant cries of feral sea beasts as they gathered on the rocks and screeched at the twin moons. She ached for the summer season,with Soahm laughing beside her as they practiced with sticks for swords, then raced into the waves to cool off.
She’d never go home again. But Sandbank was as close as it got to something familiar; something safe.
“Alright, Sonara?” Jaxon called down as Razor landed upon the sand. The great wyvern blew out a hot breath, rustling Duran’s mane and tail.
He whinnied a greeting to the other pale steed, who continued down the hillside with the ladies upon its back. The strange Shadowblood had yet to remove her hood, concealing her true identity. Sonara watched as they slid down from the beast, tying it up outside the saloon with the rest of the steeds.
Sonara sighed as she looked at the line of others stamping their hooves, many with saddles still on. Sonara rode bareback only, and she didn’t like to keep Duran tied up outside, waiting on her beck and call. He was prisoner to no rope, no saddle, no Dohrsaran rider’s command.
“Go on, then,” she whispered to him. “Enjoy some freedom.” He trotted away, off to find a watering hole and some much needed saltgrass on its banks.
“Evening, Sunny.”
Sonara’s whole body seized at the sound of that voice.
Markam’s deep timbre was painstakingly similar to Jaxon’s, but it held an air of superiority beneath it that Jaxon’s never did. His pride was as strong as his scent as he dismounted and marched across the sand towards her.
Sour and sweet all at once, like the coolness of spring colliding with the heat of summer.
Sonara rolled back her shoulders and forced herself to greet him. “Hello, Markam,” she said.
Then she spun around and, with all the strength left in her, slammed her fist into his face.
Chapter 5
Sonara
Sonara hated having history with people. History meant roots, and roots were things that could be tugged and pulled on, like heartstrings.
Roots meant weaknesses, and Markam was more than a root.
He was a weed.
Markam was the biggest high-roller in all of the Deadlands. He knew every secret that passed from every set of lips, every little detail of who would be where and when. Bankers’ carriages, boats on the Briyne, noblemen and women journeying from one fortress to another. None of their routes were secret or safe. Markam held the keys to his own sort of kingdom, and it was why Sonara had first been drawn to him, in hope of discovering something about Soahm and the ship that whisked him away ten years ago.
It was also why Sonara had later grown to mistrust Markam’s every word.
He was a Trickster, after all, the only other Shadowblood she and Jaxon knew. Markam’s curse manifested in illusions. They were some of the best Sonara had ever seen.He made bets with Fool’s Coin of his own making and was a skilled liar, to boot.
Blast you, Sonara. Why did you ever fall for him?she thought, as she shook out her throbbing fist, satisfied at how hard she’d punched him.
“You always did like to play rough, Sunny,” Markam said as he rubbed his nose. He laughed, andblast,it was molasses-sweet. She hated the way her curse shivered at the sound of that laugh, how it longed to dive deep into his soul and have a taste of what was once hers.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
Sonara lifted her chin anyway.
Damn him, Markam was a sight for desert-sore eyes. He was only a year older than Jaxon, and made of muscle, but not the king’s Guard type. Markam was lean and mean, with cropped night-black hair. His eyes were dark to match, his blood roiling with the very same shadows as hers.
Handsome on the outside. But Markam was downright rotten to his bones.
“We agreed to one job,” Sonara said as she spun away from Markam. “Get the ring in Stonegrave,get outonce we split the profit three ways. And of course you’ve roped us into more. That’s what you always do.”
“Circumstances change, Sunny.” Markam stepped forward, his duster waving past his ankles. He wore the finest clothes, gold buttons on the leather, diamond links on his cuffs. “Andyoudid not get the king’s ring. One third of payment for the ring: that’s what I was owed. Therefore, our agreement isnotdone. Thanks to me, I’ve extended an invitation for you to join me on one of my own escapades.And it pays far more handsomely than any you’ve ever faced before. When we complete it, you can give me one third of your prize.”
“I’m going to rip out your insides, Markam, and fashion you a pretty little necklace from them,” Sonara growled.
