We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya 1)

She clamped her lips against a slew of thoughts. The Shadow studied her, seeing her conflict.

“I am as you see me now, and when the need arises, I am zalaam. I am zill.”

A man who could shift into darkness. Wonderful.

He rose and extended his hand. His tattoo winked. She stared at his outstretched fingers and curled her tongue. If she refused, he might not speak so readily anymore. If she accepted, he could take advantage of her easy trust.

His hand held steady, even as she wavered.

She accepted.

He pulled her to her feet. Only, he didn’t pull her upward. He pulled her toward him, and she threw out her hand to stop from toppling them both. He looked down at her fingers splayed across his chest, and Zafira froze at the wicked twist of his lips when he gripped her wrist.

“Why am I here?” she breathed, eyes wide.

“We have known each other a very long time, azizi.” He spoke just as softly as before, and Zafira’s pulse quickened. “I thought it was time we met.”

He was too close. She was too close.

“Aren’t you pleased to have met me?” he asked. His lips brushed her ear, and she nearly came undone.

She couldn’t think straight. She knew she should pull her hand away, but the warmth of his skin through the linen of his thobe held her in place. Until another realization chilled her blood.

He had no heartbeat.

CHAPTER 65

She was gone. Gone. Nasir trekked ahead but didn’t see the flash of the Huntress’s snowy skin or the glint of her ring. Not that he needed to.

He felt her absence in the depths of his bones.

When he returned to the others, he paused at the expression on their faces: expectancy. Nasir had never been the recipient of that before, and he shook his head, destroying their hope in breaths. That’s more like it.

“She was right there,” Kifah said, using the tip of her spear to shift the sands. “There isn’t a trace.”

The shadows deepened and sand spun. A storm was coming. Benyamin’s dismay was wrought on his face. “We’re too late. We’re too late. She’s—”

“Don’t make me slap you, safi,” Altair snapped, an edge to his voice.

Kifah climbed the outcropping to search.

Laughter rose in Nasir’s throat. They were lost. They were without a compass to help them find their compass. The compass. He locked gazes with Altair’s knowing look, and he wondered how long Altair had known that it had always pointed to the Huntress. Nasir pulled the disc from his pocket, loosing a breath when the whizzing settled on a point northeast.

“I know where to find her,” he said, not bothering to explain. How could he explain what he didn’t understand?

Kifah leaped down from the rock and studied his compass. She didn’t question him. “There’s a drop up ahead, though I can’t tell how steep.”

He nodded. He could leave them as they were. If they died, that would save Nasir from having to watch the life leave their now-familiar faces.

He slid his scimitar from its sheath and inhaled, briefly meeting Altair’s eyes. Benyamin gave him a firm nod.

He had a Huntress to hunt.

CHAPTER 66

Zafira took her time lacing her boots, staring at the swoops on the elegant tiles as she tried to rein in her quick breathing. She straightened. He stood close. Very close.

“You are continuously searching for an escape, azizi.”