We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya 1)

But to question was to display weakness, and Nasir was no weakling, no matter how great his curiosity.

“Off we go, children,” Altair called, and the ship lurched forward with Nasir’s stomach.

* * *

Sharr was nowhere to be seen. They had a long journey ahead, but Nasir didn’t think it would take as long as when on a normal ship. No, this journey would follow the time of the Silver Witch and the abominable power she held.

It was as if she wanted Nasir to find the Hunter. To follow him. To kill him.

The shores of Sultan’s Keep became smaller and smaller.

“What have we to fear on this journey, Sultani?” Altair asked.

Nasir had the feeling the general was mocking him, for Altair should know more than he did about the lay of the land—and sea. But as the ship’s men continued without so much as a flicker of emotion in their dull eyes, Nasir found himself opening his stupid mouth, recounting names from long-buried tales he should not have unearthed. “There are tales of the bahamut and dandan.”

Altair’s forehead creased. His head dipped toward his chest and his shoulders pitched forward, shaking. Seasick. And so soon after setting sail, the weak bastard. Nasir didn’t bother moving from the railing. Heartbeats later, Altair straightened, his face red from exertion.

He wasn’t sick. He was laughing uncontrollably.

Nasir scowled.

“Beware, the mighty dandan!” Altair shouted. “I imagine the creature hides in shame because of its own name.” He broke off in laughter again. “Dandan? Dandan!”

In answer, the ship jounced. Nasir gripped the railing.

Altair snorted. “Oh, you’ll be safe from our dreaded dandan so close to the shore. Sultan’s teeth, look at that.”

At the shores of Sultan’s Keep, a violent crackling filled the air. The Arz was coming back. Trees erupted out of the ground, tossing black pebbles everywhere. The very air began to darken. Trunks rose high, limbs entwining, twisting, spearing. Leaves dripped from branches like dew.

In mere breaths, the Arz had returned, looking as if it had never left.

If the Silver Witch could tame the Arz—rimaal, make it disappear—Nasir couldn’t begin to imagine the extent of her powers. But it was Sharr that not even she could subdue. It was on Sharr that he could finally meet his demise. After years of expecting death at the hands of his father, he could die on an island, and no one would even know. Not that anyone was left to care.

“You shouldn’t have said that about her to the witch.” Altair broke through his thoughts, an edge to his voice.

Nasir lifted an eyebrow and propped his onyx-hilted jambiya against the rail to polish. “What?”

“Kulsum.”

He paused. “All I said was that she is of no concern to me.”

“You use people and discard them. No one is of any concern to you, Nasir,” Altair said coolly.

As if he knew. As if he daama knew what Nasir had been through.

Altair and his mouth.

One moment, Nasir was trying to force air through his teeth, the next, he shoved the bigger man against the rail, blade at the smooth column of his throat.

“Let me,” Nasir breathed, “tell you a story, General.”

Altair’s eyes flared. Good. It was good to have Altair fear him for once.

“Once, there was a girl in Sultan’s Keep. She sang away her nights beneath the stars with my head in her lap and her fingers in my hair. Until she lost what she prized most. Because I loved her. Because I was selfish.” Nasir spat the last words in his face. “I would have lamented less had she died.”

He pulled away. Altair straightened his clothes, the wind toying with the fringe of his turban. Waves crashed, and somewhere, Kulsum was carrying a tray to the sultan.

“You will always be selfish,” Altair said, voice strangely level. “Do you know why I stand as an equal beside you, princeling? Because I’m untouchable. Because I’m the man no one has hold over. Not only did you say she is of no concern to you, but in your arrogance, you revealed Kulsum’s association with me. You might as well have carried a sign that said Altair cares for the girl.”