A healer slid her hand under my head and put a vial to my lips. I drank its contents without question, not even cringing against the tang.
“Don’t fight the sleep,” the healer told me.
I didn’t. When I felt the drowsiness creeping up on me, I jumped happily into it.
TWENTY-SEVENAMUNET
Jasim’s scimitar knocked into my khopesh hard enough to make me stumble. He clicked his tongue. “Your footwork is sloppy.”
I huffed. “My footwork is fine.”
He gave me a look.
Begrudgingly, I adjusted my stance. Jasim nodded, satisfied. Then he came at me again. It was harder to keep up with him than I wanted to admit. Sweat dribbled down my face, intensifying the burning itch that had melted its way down my arms. Even my lack of sleeves didn’t help. Just the air tickling my skin was enough to make me want to claw down to the bone.
Traveling with Nasir through Ashorah’s heat for a whole week was horrible enough, but each day seemed to bring some new torment. I felt halfway to madness.
Only halfway?King Zaid snorted.
Jasim knocked my blade to the ground.
A growl erupted from my lips.
He retrieved it and held the hilt out to me. “You’re distracted.”
I snatched it with a glower. “I’m just out of practice.”
Better be nicer to the soldier, King Zaid clucked.Chase him off and you’ll be shit out of luck when you reach the temple.
I hated that a disembodied voice might have a point. Sucking ina breath through my nose, I softened. “Sorry. Maybe we should stop for the night.”
“It’s barely been ten minutes. You agreed to an hour.”
“I’m tired.”
Jasim narrowed his eyes at me, the lantern light painting his golden skin in flecks of amber. It was his idea to train at night, when neither Nasir nor any of his soldiers would be around to question it. Each night we made camp, we’d turned Jasim’s tent into a makeshift ring. The opportunity to hit something had done me good at the start of our journey, the familiarity of exchanging blows with Jasim almost therapeutic, but now not even the clash of blades was enough to keep my symptoms at bay.
“All right.” Jasim tossed his scimitar aside and crossed his arms. “What is it?”
I sighed. “I already told you—”
“Are you sick? Is it something to do with the scratching?”
Stubborn little pup is onto you, King Zaid taunted.
My head twitched in a subtle attempt to dislodge him. He cackled.
“That, right there.” Jasim pointed at my face. “What was that?”
“Gods, enough, Jasim. I’m tired, I’m going to bed. That’s all.” I turned to flee for my tent, but he caught my elbow and reeled me back, close enough that his chocolate-brown eyes consumed my world, firelight dancing in their depths.
“I watch you, Amunet,” he told me. “All day, that is what I do. I have memorized your every facial expression. Your eye rolls and your fake smiles and your sad sighs. I know them all because it is my job to know them all. But this…” His grip on my elbow softened and his other hand came up to just barely graze my jaw. “This is different. Something is wrong. Tell me what it is so I can help you.”
Yes, tell him how you only brought him along to sacrifice him. That’ll go over so well.
My throat constricted. Jasim was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. He’d done more than watch me; he’d learned me. And he was still here. Still trying to help me. Words tried to slip past the vise of my throat, and I realized Iwantedto tell him the truth. I knew it was stupid, knew King Zaid was right, but the weight of my inflamed skin, of the clamor in my head, had grown too heavy to shoulder alone.
I’d always been alone. I didn’t want to be anymore.
