We Hunt the Flame (Sands of Arawiya 1)

She wanted Nasir to kill the Lion. His mother wanted him to kill the Lion. She believed he could kill the Lion.

Altair studied him, surprisingly void of emotion.

Nasir fisted his trembling hands. “You knew.”

He nodded. “Sharr is full of revelations.”

Nasir did not want to react to that, or he would tear Altair’s hair from his head.

“I don’t know how to put this lightly,” Altair started, and his mock-cheerful tone made Nasir decide maybe he should tear the hair from his perfect head, “but our compass is missing.”

“Zafira,” Nasir corrected before he registered the rest of what Altair said. He snapped his gaze to him. “Missing?”

Nasir shoved past Altair and rushed into the camp,

where Benyamin was pacing back and forth and Kifah was rubbing her arms, gold cuff glinting.

He whirled back to Altair, who held up his hands and started with “Kifah—”

Nasir had Kifah against the tree in a heartbeat. His voice was crisp. “Where is she?”

Distantly, he heard Altair mumble, “What is it with Nasir and shoving people against things?”

Anger flared Kifah’s nostrils, but Nasir didn’t care.

“Start talking,” he said, voice low, “or I’ll knock out your teeth and you can use your blood to write your answers.”

“Get your hands off me,” she seethed, but this time a flicker of fear touched her bold face.

Panic struck him. He released her.

She straightened her sleeveless blouse and hoisted her spear, a sheen on her black skin and bald head. “Next time you touch me, Prince, you’ll be without a hand.”

“We have a more pressing matter, One of Nine,” Altair drawled.

Kifah growled. “She heard whispers when there wasn’t a bleeding sound. And then she just started walking away as if I weren’t even there.”

“Cut the gibberish, woman,” Nasir snapped.

“All truth. Then she started whispering to the trees and said she was coming—and the bleeding trees moved, almost like a door was closing behind her.”

Nasir turned to Benyamin, whose golden skin had lost its pallor. “The Lion?”

The safi shook his head. “He isn’t strong enough. Not yet.”

Not yet. “What does that mean?”

Benyamin started going through the vials at his waist. “It means the lost Jawarat won’t be lost for long.”

“Reassuring,” Altair said.

“Can you walk?” Nasir looked to Altair’s leg.

“Planning on carrying me, too?”

Nasir sighed.

“Worry not, princeling. Thanks to your tender care and my mighty strength, I’m good to go.”