“Broken?” Her dark eyes widened. “You’re injured, Soahm. That’s a far cry from broken. You’ll heal.”
“There’s a chance I won’t.” Soahm looked at her fully, and his blue eyes, so unlike hers, were rimmed with red. “The healers say it’s possible that I’ll never fully recover. The people want awarrior,Sonara. Like our mother. They want to know that their future king will rule with sword and shield, will not balk or falter in the face of his enemies. I cannot give them that.”
“Perhaps you never could,” Sonara said with a shrug.
Those blue eyes widened ever more.
She held up a hand and offered him a gentle smile. “You’re not like that, Soahm. Before the injury, after it… it’s never beenyou.If they want a king like that, they can move north to the Deadlands, and bow at Jira’s feet. Or worse, to the White Wastes, and praise the ice queen.”
Soahm frowned, his brow furrowing. “You think me weak?”
“The opposite,” Sonara said. “I think you’re strong. But in a different way. Perhaps a better way…” She considered for a moment, as a distant pod of sea wyverns splashed their tails above the waves. “Yima rides with heavy heels. The steeds respond, but they don’t respect her.” Sonara reached out, and scooped up a handful of sand, letting it fall through her fingertips. The grains danced away on the wind. “The people want someone they can respect, and it isn’t always earned with a warrior’s sword. Give them a reason to follow you. Give them a leader they can be proud of. Bend a knee to their level, and show them you understand their struggles, their worries and fears, that you care about filling their bellies and giving their children a safe place to learn and play and sleep.”
“But how can I do that?” Soahm asked. “How can I do that likethis? The Great War ended when Jira rose to power, but skirmishes still rise. There is still unrest on the borderlands.”
Sonara grabbed her brother’s hand and squeezed it, forcing him to pay attention. To look at herclearly,with her muddied blue hair, her dark eyes, her differences that marked her as a bastard. The lowest of the low. “Seethem,Soahm.Allof them, not just the wealthy and the nobles. See themall,the way you have always seen me.”
He squeezed her hand back, then let it go. They sat together for a time, watching the stars wink down from the sky. Behind them, Duran had crossed to the hills, his face buried in the seagrass as he filled his ever-hungering belly.
“Let’s walk,” Soahm said. His voice was a bit lighter, the heaviness replaced by what Sonara felt was, perhaps, hope.
She reached out a hand to help him stand. He took it gratefully, a prince that was never too proud, and together they walked, their cloaks dancing behind them in the wind. In the distant sky, a star was falling, a trail of glitter in its wake.
“I’ve spent more time sketching,” Soahm said. “Mother doesn’t know, of course. She’d slay me herself if she thought I was wasting my time sketching when I could be studying.” He reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out his leather-bound journal. On the front, a stamped insignia of a rearing steed. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a sketch of a warrioress, seated atop Duran.
“It’s me,” Sonara said.
She smiled.
“The She-Devil,” Soahm said with a wink. “Keep it.” He passed her the journal. “I have plenty. Try your hand at a sketch, Little Sister. It’s kept me busy during my recovery.”
Sonara laughed, for she’d never been able to sit still enough to sketch,but she tucked the journal into her cloak anyway, to humor him. She was about to suggest they turn back, her body growing tired, when the star in the distance caught her eye again.
Stars didn’t fall quite like that, cutting through the night like a beacon.
“Do you…” Sonara pointed. “Do you see it?”
Soahm followed her gaze through the sky, the light reflecting upon the black sea. It drew ever closer, the brightness intensifying until she saw that it was not a star.
Rather, it was ashape,a blazing trail of fire beyond it. A shape that looked like the head of an arrow, slicing through the sky; metallic. Not of this world.
The wind kicked up, gusting towards her as a rumble sounded from the object, shooting across the sky like a war drum.
Sonara’s blood felt cold, her heartbeat rising to her throat.Danger.She felt it, a sickness spreading through her gut. Behind her, Duran and the mare cried out, then galloped over the hills, out of sight.
“Run,” Sonara whispered. She gripped Soahm’s hand, her nails digging into his skin as fear overcame her. “Soahm,run!”
She turned, tugging him along with her. The beach was a wide expanse of sand spreading into the dunes beyond. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to bury themselves in the shadows, except…
The cave on the edge of the Devil’s Dunes.
A burial ground for the dead, a sacred space that was not to be disturbed, and yet Sonara found herself tugging Soahm towards the yawning black mouth of it, the safety of darkness calling them home.
“Slow down!” Soahm yelled. He stumbled, but Sonara tugged his hand harder, her fear a living thing inside of her now.
Run, it beckoned.Run, and do not slow down.
She had always been smaller than most, lithe and used to working long hours in the stables. She pushed herself, legs burning as she trudged through the deep sand.
