We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya 1)

General al-Badawi: the son of none with no lineage to his name. He could very well be the commander of the army that had slain Yasmine and Deen’s parents.

Both of the men she’d been traveling with were cold-blooded murderers.

“Once you leave the stairwell, he will shoot you down,” Altair warned, releasing her.

“Will he? Or will you?” she seethed.

He stiffened. “I’m not so handy with a bow.”

“And now you’re concerned for my safety?”

“I’ve always been concerned for your safety,” he murmured, and looked up the stairs. “Hurry up, Sultani!”

Sultani. Zafira bit back a sob. Not only had the Silver Witch sent Sarasins here to Sharr, she had sent the two worst Sarasins in all of Arawiya. The sultan’s prized general. The sultan’s own daama son.

“The Silver Witch lied to me. She said she didn’t want the sultan to know,” she whispered.

“The silver woman cannot lie, Huntress. She would have worded that a little differently.”

“Why? Why did she send you?” She needed to make sense of what was happening.

“She didn’t.” Altair shrugged as the prince came into view. Skies. The prince. Prince Nasir Ghameq, whose name shared the same meaning as hers. Whose hands w

ere stained red.

Whose touch on her forehead had been gentle.

He met her eyes with the ashes of his own. The end of his turban was torn, but she couldn’t summon satisfaction at the sight.

Altair nudged her forward, and she stomped down the steps again.

She would not bow. She wouldn’t treat them any differently than if they were her servants. She turned back to him. To the daama prince. “If the Silver Witch didn’t send you, who did?”

“The sultan,” he said matter-of-factly. “He learned of your quest, and because no one trusts witches, he sent me.”

Zafira had trusted the witch. Not entirely, but enough to board her daama ship. Before she could ask For what? Altair interrupted, “And me. So the next time you think of killing him, just know you’re supposed to get rid of the less important one first.”

“How did you cross the Arz?”

The prince tipped his head. “Ghameq counted on her knowing. She helped us cross the Arz and gifted us with a ship, much like she did for you, I assume.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. Why would the Silver Witch favor the crown prince if she wanted to keep the journey from the sultan? Zafira doubted quite a bit when it came to the Silver Witch, but there was no reason to stay clear of the sultan and then aid his son in the same breath.

No, whatever her reason, it had to do with the prince and Altair themselves.

“No one asked you to make sense of it,” he said in that same monotone, and Altair pushed her down the stairs again.

“Where are we going?”

“To the next oasis,” the prince said with a sardonic twist to his mouth.

“And then?” she asked.

“And then we’ll find the Jawarat.”

“And then?” Will you kill me?

Mirth touched his voice. “Fate only knows.”