Sita startled. She hadn’t noticed him watching her.
He went on. “Are you worried we won’t be able to find Perset? Or that we’ll perish in the attempt? There’s an oasis marked on the map near the lost city, so as long as it’s still there, we should be able to find it.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said. She paused, searching for the right words to explain. As if sensing her unease, Behkai trotted to her side. She reached down to scratch between his tall, pointed ears. “The oracle you told me about, the Oracle of the Lamb—you really believe it’s true?”
Karim sighed. “It is a source of extreme confusion. On one hand, the oracle is Khetaran doctrine, and I have no faith in such things. On the other, I cannot deny what my own eyes have seen.”His gaze flicked to hers with a subtle wariness. “I cannot deny that it was through Khetaran magic that I stand here and speak to you now.” There was a bitterness in his tone that made her sad and angry at the same time.
She quickly suppressed those feelings.You cannot blame him for being upset when his faith is thrown into question.She thought about what he’d told her about the ancient oracle, about its omens of death and destruction, and her own role—along with Karim, a priestess, and a warrior—in that dark future.
“How about you, hey?” Karim asked. “Do you believe?”
Sita shook her head. “It’s complicated. I don’t think you’d understand.”
Karim bristled. “Why? Because I’m an uncivilized Red Lands tribesman and not an educated Khetaran like you?”
“No! It’s not that at all! It’s…” She dropped her head back and stared at the wide-open sky. “I’m the daughter of a pharaoh, all right? Up until a few days ago, every detail of my life was decided for me. When I ran away, it was the first time I took control of my own destiny. But if this oracle is real, then it means I wasmeantto run away. It means leaving the palace, meeting you, even bringing you back—all of it was decided a thousand years ago. If everything I do is predetermined by the gods, then do I really have a say in anything? Do my choices even matter?” She clutched the Isis knot and scarab pendants hanging at her breast, the last remnants of her old life. “If the hand of a god guides me, am I truly free?”
Karim didn’t respond right away. He stared at the rolling dunes stretching out before them, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Have you ever made a plan, sena?”
Sita thought about all the parties and banquets she’d organized, and the fowling days out on the river. “Many times, yes.”
“And did each detail always happen as you intended?”
Again, Sita recalled musicians who fell ill, tardy guests, strong winds that blew her specially prepared party food into the river.
“Of course not. There are too many variables. You can’t control everything that happens.” She blinked. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”
Karim gave her a little grin. “Just because a god—whether it be mine or yours—has a plan, doesn’t mean it always comes to pass. We canchooseto walk the path set out for us, or we can choose not to. Or maybe something completely out of our control alters the entire situation, hey? None of that changes the fact thattherewas a plan.”
Sita nodded. The thief’s logic was sound. “You really think we get to choose our fate?”
Karim shrugged. “I think we get to choose whether we follow the path set out for us, Sitamun.” He paused. “And I think we get to choose with whom we share that journey.”
Had he moved a little closer to her? Or had she suddenly felt his closeness?
“Perhaps you can call me Sita,” she said. “Sitamun is so formal, and we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
Karim’s eyes twinkled. “Very well, Princess.”
They walked in comfortable silence after that, Sita occasionally reaching down to give Behkai a pat on the rump, and Karim scanning their surroundings as he consulted the old map he’d stolen from the Temple of Amun.
Sita’s muscles ached, and blisters grew on the backs of her ankles where her ornate sandals rubbed her raw. Like herself up until that day, her shoes had been built for looks, not work. When the pain became too much to bear, she kicked them off and walked barefoot. The sand between her toes was soothing, and the glorious, golden expanse all around them distracted herfrom dark thoughts.
Every once in a while, she stole a glance at her companion. His boyish, rugged face. His dark eyes that flashed when the light hit them just right.Only two days ago, he was a stranger, and now…What was he? A friend?
Not like any friend I’ve had.
The men in Sita’s life treated her much like one of the decorative statues she’d seen in the Thonis marketplace: as something to be bought and sold.Or prey to be hunted, she thought, remembering Mery’s hand on the back of her neck.
She shivered.
Even Femi, like all the other servants and courtiers, had treated her with deference.
Not Karim.
He’d argued with her! Called her names! Although none of them, she admitted, were nearly as bad as the ones she’d calledhim. And he seemed to have no interest in the value of her station. On the contrary, he had nothing but disdain for the Khetaran throne. Karim was, without a doubt, the most difficult, peculiar man Sita had ever met.
She watched him throw a tamarisk branch for Behkai to fetch, howling with laughter when the dog lost his footing and tumbled down a dune.
