“My father—”
He nods, though coolly, refusing to meet my gaze. “This way.”
It turns out, I was traveling in the wrong direction. We backtrack as quickly as possible, but midday in Mirash, the road has overflowed its banks, the space between bodies so narrow one could not squeeze even a sheet of parchment between them. Eventually, movement grinds to a halt.
“What’s happening?” I ask. “Why aren’t we moving?” My attempts to put space between myself and those around me result in an elbow to my spine.
“I’m not sure,” Notus says.
People crane their necks in curiosity, including a young boy draped in filthy rags. “What’s happening, Mama?”
“Hush, child.” She shushes him, yet gathers him close.
A scream splits the air.
All at once, the crowd fractures, heaving itself in the opposite direction, away from the entrance. I brace against the tide, Notus sheltering my back. One scream becomes three, becomes seven, becomes ten. Someone’s boot crushes my toes. A man goes down and is trampled. Then I smell it: smoke on the wind.
“Darkwalkers,” Notus says.
A cold wave of despair sloshes through me. Darkwalkers are widespread through Ammara, but I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to face them, today of all days. It will take hours to return to Ishmah. Time is running out.
Notus turns to me. “Head for the entrance,” he says. “Wait for me at the sailer. I need to send a message to Eurus, but I’ll take care of this and be there as soon as I can.”
I fight the urge to toss myself into his arms. He is a god, I remind myself. He can take care of himself. “Stay safe,” I whisper.
He dips his chin. “You, too.”
The South Wind flings himself skyward, propelled by a gust of air beneath his boots. When he vanishes behind the buildings, I race toward the entrance, dodging those fleeing to the best of my ability. Eventually, I pass beneath the archway, where Ammara expands in golden pleats. There is his sailer. Its twin sails flutter in a surprisingly strong breeze.
I pace before it, struggling to catch my breath. I think of Father. I think of Amir and Tuleen. I should be at his bedside, but I am far, as I have always been. Try as I might, I’ve never been able to close the distance between us.
The sun boils overhead and presses red onto my tightening skin. I’m not sure how much time has passed. An hour? Two? My eyes hunt the sky. No sign of the South Wind. Over time, the screams peter out. Still, I pace.
When a blurred figure passes beneath the archway, I squint into the distance. “Thank the gods,” I gasp, and race toward the South Wind. “I was beginning to think something happened to you.”
Notus limps past me without acknowledgment. I hurry to catch up, slipping and sliding through sand. “Are you all right?” I ask.
“Fine.”
Fineis the word I myself have used when I am anything but. “You don’t look fine. You’re hurt.” I trail him to the sailer. “This won’t hinder your ability to get us back to Ishmah, will it?”
Notus slows, tossing a glare over his shoulder. He then turns and keeps walking.
I open my mouth, snap it shut. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sure.”
His dismissal stings. Iwasworried for the South Wind, but he is immortal, flush with power. My father is dying. One cannot liken a fish to a bird. They are from completely separate worlds.
“Here.” I shove the waterskin into his hand. He takes a swig before passing it back. “Let’s go.” Leaping onto the vessel, I settle at the bow. The sails, however, hang limp.
I spin around. Notus leans against the hull, arms crossed, looking out at the distant dunes. “Did you hear me?”
He lifts his head, eyes slitted against the sun’s harsh glare. There is no distinction between iris and pupil, only roiling black, a fury so hostile I retreat a step. “Give me a damn minute, Sarai.”
I flinch, curl my arms across my stomach. “I’m sorry. You’re right, just… we’re running out of time, and—”
“I understand you’re frightened,” he growls, “but I’m trying to help you.”
