Tariq’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. ‘What is it?’
‘I came to tell you that the miners are returning to work as we speak.’ He looked pleased. ‘You did it.’
Tariq was still for a long moment. ‘Good.’ He nodded slowly. ‘That’s good.’
A frown settled on Kaidon’s face. ‘Really? Because you don’t look very happy.’
‘The king will be happy.’ Tariq reached for his boots. ‘That’s what matters.’ He looked back at Aisha. ‘I need to go to the mine and speak with Jibran before we leave. You can wait here.’
She didn’t want to be left alone again. Joining him at the door, she said, ‘I’ll come with you. Shame to come all this way and never see the mine.’
He looked torn but then nodded. ‘Get your boots.’
The mine looked like a jagged wound carved into the rocky hillside. The air near the entrance was thick with dust stirred up by the line of workers filing into the main tunnel. Their faces were already streaked with grime despite it being the start of the workday.
Tariq and Jibran were talking a few feet away from Aisha and Kaidon. She noted the tension in the prince’s posture.
‘I want men working on the additional reinforcements today,’ Tariq said, trying to compete with the noise of shuffling feet.
Jibran folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘The king won’t like it. He wants the miners mining.’
‘He wanted the mine open.’ Tariq gestured to the entrance. ‘It’s open.’ When Jibran let out a noisy breath, Tariq clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s open.’
Aisha’s gaze drifted over the workers in their tattered clothing, exhaustion carved into their faces. Every time she saw a young boy, her stomach would twist. The youngest ones still had those small hands that should be used for playing, exploring, and learning how to write. The saddest feature was their eyes, hollowed with routine.
She made eye contact with a boy walking by. His tunic was too large for his thin frame, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He stared at her with a dead expression, and she felt a pull to follow him.
‘Where are you going?’ Kaidon asked when she began walking off.
Tariq’s gaze shot to her. ‘Aisha.’
She barely heard him as she reached for the boy’s hand, stopping him before he joined the line of workers. The moment her fingers wrapped around his, everything shifted. The people around her vanished, and darkness swallowed her. The cool morning air was gone, replaced by thick, suffocating heat. Dust and sweat filled her nose and coated her throat. The flickering light of oil lamps cast trembling shadows on the walls. Her hands were small and calloused.
She was inside the mine, but not as herself.
A deep, low groan reached her from somewhere within the mine, then the ground beneath her began to shake. The other workers paused as dust rained from the ceiling.
Another groan, followed by a sharp, deafening crack. Shouts rang out. Someone grabbed her arm, jerking her forwards.
‘Run,’ someone shouted, right before dust exploded into the air, burning her throat and choking her lungs.
The sun blinded Aisha as she returned to herself, wrenching her hand from the boy with a violent gasp before stumbling backwards. Strong arms caught her.
‘You’re all right,’ Tariq said quietly into her ear. ‘Easy.’
She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?
He turned her around to face him, eyes searching her face for clues as to what was happening. ‘Breathe,’ he told her.
She finally sucked in a ragged breath, her lungs awakening. Then she began to cough.
Kaidon appeared next to them, looking concerned. ‘What the hell just happened?’
The boy. Aisha whipped her head around, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. ‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’ Tariq asked.
‘The boy.’ Her eyes locked on the mine. ‘We need to get him out.’
