Jyn’s lip curls. “Yes, I heard of that vile snake’s attempt to wrest more land for himself. That leaves the isles, then, though the journey won’t come easily.”
“Is there no other option? I could take you to my city and hide you there.”
“That won’t work.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because if evil has a face,” she says, her eyes growing dark, “then that man has carved it off and worn it around as a mask. He won’t stop until we’re…” Jyn trails off, her eyes growing distant.
I’ve noticed in my short time with her that she does this often, escaping into some unseeable corner of her mind. She talks to herself often as well. The result of being alone for so long, perhaps? Whatever the answer might be, I wish to ease her worries—it’s just a shame that I don’t know how.
Jyn withdraws her hand and keeps walking. “To the Moonstar Isles it is, then.” She chews on the inside of her cheek, much the same way I do when lost in thought. “We must put as much distance as possible between us and the emperor. Every second wasted is a li he draws closer.”
“And every li we travel, the farther I am from home.”
Jyn simply stares at me, as she always does when she is at a loss for words. In these moments, she is made of stone—hard and indifferent. “There’s nothing we can do for your mother.”
“You would have me abandon her completely?”
“I’ve said as much.”
Her bluntness hits me like a strike across the face. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Be logical about this, Sai. You have two options: return without me and surrender yourself to the emperor’s mercy—and trust me, you will find none—or escape with me and live out what little remains of your mortal life.”
“What little remains?” I echo with a disbelieving chuckle. “You make it sound as though I have mere days to live.”
“Why are you always so…,” she mutters to herself, pulling at her hair and gasping in a full breath. “I shouldn’t have done this.” Jyn squeezes her fists at her forehead, shutting her eyes tight. “This time will be no different. Why did I think it would be different?”
This time?
Her anguish is disheartening to witness and even more traumatizing to feel. It makes my skin chill, despite the blazing desert heat. There’s also an unexpected rage, making for a violent concoction that almost causes me to gag.
I take up her hands, alarmed and desolate to see her in such a state. I need to help her calm down, not just for her sake, but also for mine. One more minute of this sensation will see me sick all over the sand.
“Jyn, look at me.Lookat me.”
Her eyes find mine, but not without a pause.
“I’m here,” I assure her, a gentle whisper. I gingerly press her palms to my chest and keep them clasped there beneath my own. “I’m here, Jyn. You needn’t worry any longer.”
As her breathing steadies, she grows sullen, though her cheeks are beginning to redden.
“If you’re positive that we can’t fly,” I say, “then let us travel by night and rest during the day. The sun is too harsh. We can journey by moonlight.” I hold my breath as I carefully stroke my fingersover her blushing cheeks; she leans into my touch just so. “I don’t wish to see you burn up. Allow me to make us a camp here, where the sand is flat. Besides, your hand still needs to heal, and I’m, uh… Well, let’s just say I’m not used to walking this much. I need a break.”
“I suppose there is… some merit to this plan.”
I break into a grin. I can’t help it. “Would you do me the honor of saying that again? I do love hearing that I’m right.”
Jyn rolls her eyes and huffs, then sits down right on the spot. “Go on, then.”
“As my lady commands.”
It’s a trial and a half to create some semblance of shelter, but I make do with my determination and wit. We’re surrounded on all sides by blazing hot sand, without a tree or cloud in sight for shade. It dawns on me at some point that there’s no need to build a structure when I can simply digdown.
The work is nowhere near as arduous as I anticipated. The sand is soft and easy to pile up into tall mounds, the tiny grains slipping through my fingers like fine silk. Within a few minutes, I have managed to create a shallow trench just big enough for the both of us.
“After you,” I say as I offer her my hand.
