I duck in after him just as voices draw closer and footsteps crunch over sand.
The silk rustles on the far side of the tent. A shadow looms tall and thin, pausing just outside the entrance. The fabric twitches, and a hand slips in, fingers adorned with thick gold rings.
“Let us see what the sands have delivered.”
Six
The tent flap twitches. Gold rings flash as the man tightens his hold on the silk. Then, his nasally voice pipes up, “Do you want them alive?”
My stomach drops. My grip tightens on my bag, knuckles white. I can’t move. They’re going to come in, find me, and…and…
Declan’s hands clamp around my waist. His bruising grip yanks me deeper into the shadows.
The movement breaks through my freeze response. “Seriously?” I hiss, elbowing him. “I can move backward without being manhandled.”
“You weren’t moving at all,” he whispers. “And they’re going to kill us.”
I try to shrug away from him, whisper shouting over my shoulder, “I was assessing!”
“You were a statue.”
“I was processing,” I say through clenched teeth, clutching my bag to my chest while attempting to wiggleout of his grasp. “Some of us like to take a minute before leaping straight into action-hero mode.”
“Some of us like living.”
“I like living too.” I slap his hands off me without turning. “I do have survival instincts, you know.”
“Then use them,” he says, low and dry next to my ear.
A long-suffering sigh floats in from outside the tent. “Yes, Tarek. I want them alive. How else will the spies be questioned?”
My mouth goes dry. Spies. They think we’re spies. What does this place do to spies?
“Just checking!” Tarek chirps, drumming his fingers on the fabric. “You are often quite dramatic and kill-y. I never know which version of you I’ll get.”
“Tarek,” the other man grates out, “must you continue to trample on my lines? I put quite a bit of thought into these.”
“Apologies,” Tarek says sheepishly, and the silk stills. “They were fine lines, truly.”
“Chilling, if I do say so myself.”
“Most chilling!” Tarek agrees. “Gooseflesh up and down my arms. I only… Well, I didn’t wish to assume the degree of violence you intended.”
A silence falls, thick enough to chew on. My argument with Declan has evaporated, but my elbow still hovers near Declan’s chest, his palm halfway up my arm like we’re two dolls caught mid-motion. Neither of us moves. Neither of us dares to breathe too loudly.
“Ruin one more entrance, I swear by the sun, Tarek, I will bury you up to your nose in the sand.”
“Classic!” Tarek crows. “A classic punishment! Love that.”
The tent flap parts another inch.
Declan raises his hands in silent surrender and eases deeper into the shadows.
“Thank you,” I whisper and begin to follow when the pointed toe of my shoe catches on the lip of something hard.
Copper singing bowls crash into each other, tumbling across the sand-speckled rug in a clanging cascade that rings out like an alarm.
With a sigh, Declan closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.
