“I didn’t realize he was loyal to King Halim,” the prince continues, a slight frown creasing his brow.
I hold my tongue. If I am to present Ammara as the image of strength, I do not wish to weaken it with the truth: that loyalty likely has nothing to do with Notus’ return.
Silence settles between us for a time. I’m rocked side to side as Zainab picks her way down the dusty path, small stones skittering beneath her hooves. Eventually, I find the courage to speak. “I apologize for the scene with my father earlier.”
He offers me a quizzical smile. “What scene?”
My expression thaws somewhat, that old shame dissolving far more readily than usual. The man is too kind. “Father and I do not often see eye to eye. He believes I require additional protection beyond the capital.”
“King Halim loves you. I cannot fault a father for looking after his daughter.”
Yes, and I do not make his life easier with my poor behavior.
Navigating Essam up a small incline, Prince Balior says, “These darkwalkers. They grow stronger, do they not? It makes sense that he would fear for your safety.”
The nearer my nameday draws, the tighter Father’s hold on my life. I can hardly breathe most days. “I suppose.”
“Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
It is what I have hoped for, desperately. A willingness, an open door. The darkwalkers are a concern, yes, but I also suspect they are linked to my curse. Investigating them may uncover clues about my fate. But I must tread lightly, for I must be eager, but nottooeager; distressed, yet not completely consumed by despair. “I would welcome any insight, Prince Balior. But I don’t seek to place this responsibility onto you.” I lower my eyes. Desperate times. I am not above using my feminine wiles to manipulate the situation. “Surely you would rather spend your time exploring what Ishmah has to offer? Our temples are beautiful, as are the public gardens.”
Something plucks at my dress. I whip my head around, but Notus is staring off into the distance. I narrow my gaze. I’m certain it was his winds.
“I have no objection to visiting the gardens,” says the prince. “But I packed most of my research, if you’re interested in taking a look. I might be able to shed some light on how to combat these creatures. Or at the very least, learn where they come from and what they want.”
“I am indebted by your generosity, Prince Balior. Thank you. Though I had hoped we might spend time togetherwithouta chaperone,” I confess.
He glances sidelong at me, Essam tugging at the bit. “Who is to say we cannot?”
I straighten in my saddle. A rule breaker? Perhaps we are a better match than I thought. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we might find a way to lose your chaperone, if you’re amenable.”
As a matter of fact, I am. Fighting a smile, I carefully scan the terrain. Higher we ascend, small clouds of dust kicked up by the horses’ heavy hooves. Sparse, stubby brush claws through cracks in the rock, and cliffs sketch the horizon: plunging valleys, narrow ravines. Notus will not be easily lost. He watches, and he listens, and he knows.
“See that gorge?” I jerk my chin toward the red stone piling in the distance. “It is only wide enough for one person to pass through at a time. Halfway through, the trail will split. Take the path on the right. It will lead you to Kir Bashab. I’ll draw Notus away and backtrack to you.” I know this land as I do nothing else. The sand is in my blood.
The prince’s grin is positively wicked. “This should be fun.”
Notus follows our descent toward the gorge. Its smooth, red walls reach upward impressively, shielding the sky above but for a thin blue ribbon. Notus glances between me and the prince, eyes slitted against the harsh glare. I cannot read his expression.
As instructed, Prince Balior goes first. I make a show of securing my supplies to buy myself some time. Notus angles his gelding toward me. “I don’t trust him,” he mutters.
This again. “You do not know him.” I dab the sweat from my forehead with a square of cloth.
“Neither do you.”
My fingers tighten around the scalding leather of the reins. I welcome the burn. “You speak of trust, but you don’t even know the meaning of that word. Or did you forget that I once trusted you wholeheartedly?”
Some unnamable emotion flares to life in the dark wells of his eyes. “There are things I would explain to you,” he says quietly, “if only I were certain you would listen.”
All too easily, the past is present. “You had every opportunity to inform me that you were leaving Ishmah all those years ago, yet you did not. You never even told mewhy.” If he had informed me, I could have prepared myself. If he had provided a reason, it might have sparedsome of my pain. “Was it about your father?” If I recall, Notus didn’t have the best relationship with him. It was one of the reasons I opened to him so quickly.
“That’s none of your business,” he growls.
A retort sparks along my tongue, but I snuff it out, swallow it down. He is right. It is none of my business. But it wounds me, his reluctance to share.
Wheeling my mare around, I dig in my heels and plunge into the canyon.
