We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya 1)

“Chain her up,” he said to the shadows, and became one himself.

CHAPTER 67

Nasir was getting closer. He could feel it.

At least, that was what he told himself to keep going. The shadows lengthened and shrank with his breathing. It was too early for night, but the starless sky was heavy with black.

And it was too late to turn back. Even if he could recall the way, the others would have moved. Only the Huntress could find them now.

Zafira.

Only Zafira could find them. He had to stop walking when he voiced her name in his head for the first time.

He continued on the erratic path his compass pointed out until he heard the unmistakable shift in the air, alerting him to another presence.

Nasir held still. His fingers melded to the leather hilt of his scimitar.

A silhouette stood against the outcrop.

He didn’t need her to come into the light for him to recognize that swaying gait. The billowing of her dress. Her skin shone in the slender shafts of light, as beautiful as the deepest of sunsets.

“Kulsum,” Nasir breathed.

She tipped her head. Nasir’s brow furrowed and his pulse trembled a warning, but he lowered his blade. Sheathed it. It felt as if a storm had run rampant in his mind, scattering the dunes of his thoughts.

“My prince,” she said in that voice of silk, the one that had freed him on countless nights.

Nasir was suddenly in a hundred places at once, none as terrifying as this simmering storm.

“The Huntress is not worth it.”

Nasir spoke slowly. “I need her if I am to find the Jawarat.”

“And when she finds it and attempts to take your life—what then?”

“She wouldn’t.” He did not doubt that.

A smile flitted across her face and something ached inside him. “She is no longer the guileless girl who set foot on this island.” Kulsum gestured to the dunes. “Sharr changes people. Like you. You have begun to love her.”

He closed his eyes but made no attempt to deny her words.

She continued, softer now. “Have you forgotten me?”

“No, Kulsum,” he said. “I did not forget. I never forget.”

He stepped closer, wanting to touch her. Hold her.

One last time.

“Even if I wanted to,” he murmured, “I could never forget that you did not love me.”

He stared at her beauty, into the dark chasms of her eyes. His last words were a rasp, because it was his fault.

“And that you have no tongue.”

He leaped, toppling her to the ground, tearing a sound from her mouth. The ifrit that she was emerged, and he dipped his gauntlet blade into the creature’s flesh. Safin steel, to ensure it would never rise again.

He had known it wasn’t her the moment she spoke in a voice he would never again hear, but he had still wasted valuable time. Longing had made him selfishly draw out the conversation. Longing to understand, to finally close that open wound.