Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands 1)

Seemed the scrawny soldier had a smart mama like mine. Just not smart enough to keep him out of the army. His mother’s husband would’ve wanted to get rid of him, I reckoned. That’s why he was in uniform too young and too underfed and too smart-mouthed to last all that long.

As his blue gaze met mine, the desert heat suddenly seemed to become stifling. The shop closing in around us, the air getting thick with nervous heat. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck.

“Quite so, Noorsham.” The commander’s voice pulled my attention back to him abruptly, as he gave another nervous tug at his sleeves. He gestured to his two soldiers, a sign. The older soldier leaned toward the younger soldier and said something to him before leading him outside, gripping him tightly by the elbow. It struck me as a strange gesture from one soldier to the other.

I didn’t have any time to consider it though. Because just like that I was alone with the commander. And the foreigner I was hiding. And it occurred to me, he might’ve just been getting rid of anyone who might interfere. I touched my hand to the rifle under the counter

The commander planted his arms on either side of me so he could stare straight down at me. “This man, he’s dangerous. He’s a mercenary, and his ilk turn on a coin. There is a war going on.” Like he thought I could have lived sixteen years without noticing the Gallan soldiers in our desert. “Miraji has more enemies than you can understand. And any one of them could be paying him. If it suited his purposes, he’d slit a girl’s throat wide open. Except he’d do other things to her first, if you catch my meaning.” My mind went back to last night, to the stranger who’d stepped in front of a gun to save a kid. “If you do see him, you’d better tell your husband.”

I frowned, faking confusion. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Your father, then.” He pulled away from me, straightening his cuffs with a twitch.

“Don’t have one of them around, neither.” I kept playing dumb. “I could tell my uncle, though, if that’d do?”

The commander nodded, seeming satisfied that I was just duller than a bag of rocks instead of a liar. I watched him all the way to the door.

But I was never good at keeping my mouth shut. “Sir—Commander!” I called out, keeping my eyes down, like a good respectful girl in the presence of an officer. With my head down, I was staring straight into the foreigner’s eyes. Something darted across his face, and for a moment I wondered if he recognized me from last night after all. “This mercenary. What’s he wanted for, anyhow?”

The commander paused on the porch. “Treason.”

I raised my eyebrows at the foreigner, a question. Below the counter, he winked at me and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back. “Well, then, I’ll keep an eye out for him, sir.”

I waited until I couldn’t hear the commander’s horse anymore before reaching down to pull the foreigner to his feet. “Treason?”

“You’re a good liar.” A small smile still played over his face. “For someone who doesn’t lie.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” His hand was lingering on mine, fingers against my pulse. I dropped my arm and looked up. That was when I noticed the red staining his white shirt, same as the blood on the counter.

“Turn around.” I sucked air through my teeth. The whole back of his shirt was a mess of red. “I don’t mean to worry you and all,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “but have you noticed that you’ve been shot?”

“Ah.” Looking at him closer now, I could see he was clutching the counter to stay upright. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

four

We sat on the floor behind the counter so that the foreigner could hide if someone came in. The blood was mostly dry, and his shirt was sticking to his skin. I had to cut it off him with his knife. His shoulders were broad and all hard muscles; they rose and fell with shallow breaths as I peeled away the ruined fabric. I was close enough to smell the smoke of last night’s fire on him.

I’d grabbed a bottle of liquor off the shelf. The foreigner sat perfectly still as I doused a clean corner of his shirt in the spirit and wiped it across his skin. We had more liquor to spare than water.

“You shouldn’t be helping me, you know,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t you hear the righteous Commander Naguib? I’m dangerous.”

I snorted. “Yeah, well, so is he.” It was as much truth as I could give without telling him the Blue-Eyed Bandit owed him a favor. “Besides”—my hand darted up—“I’ve got the knife.” He froze, feeling the blade against his neck. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. And then he laughed.

“So you do.” When he spoke, his skin scraped across the edge of the knife like a dangerously close shave. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.” I tried to make it sound like a warning as I went back to work on his shoulder. I dug the tip of the knife into his skin. His muscles bunched under my hand, but he didn’t cry out.

As I tried to get under the bullet, I noticed a tattoo inked on his ribs. I traced the edge with the tips of my fingers. His muscles tensed under my hand, sending shivers all the way through my arm.

“It’s a seagull.” When he spoke, the inked bird moved under my fingertips. “It was the name of the first ship I ever served on. The Black Seagull. It seemed like a grand idea at the time.” d the scrawny soldier had a smart mama like mine. Just not smart enough to keep him out of the army. His mother’s husband would’ve wanted to get rid of him, I reckoned. That’s why he was in uniform too young and too underfed and too smart-mouthed to last all that long.

As his blue gaze met mine, the desert heat suddenly seemed to become stifling. The shop closing in around us, the air getting thick with nervous heat. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck.

“Quite so, Noorsham.” The commander’s voice pulled my attention back to him abruptly, as he gave another nervous tug at his sleeves. He gestured to his two soldiers, a sign. The older soldier leaned toward the younger soldier and said something to him before leading him outside, gripping him tightly by the elbow. It struck me as a strange gesture from one soldier to the other.

I didn’t have any time to consider it though. Because just like that I was alone with the commander. And the foreigner I was hiding. And it occurred to me, he might’ve just been getting rid of anyone who might interfere. I touched my hand to the rifle under the counter

The commander planted his arms on either side of me so he could stare straight down at me. “This man, he’s dangerous. He’s a mercenary, and his ilk turn on a coin. There is a war going on.” Like he thought I could have lived sixteen years without noticing the Gallan soldiers in our desert. “Miraji has more enemies than you can understand. And any one of them could be paying him. If it suited his purposes, he’d slit a girl’s throat wide open. Except he’d do other things to her first, if you catch my meaning.” My mind went back to last night, to the stranger who’d stepped in front of a gun to save a kid. “If you do see him, you’d better tell your husband.”

I frowned, faking confusion. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Your father, then.” He pulled away from me, straightening his cuffs with a twitch.

“Don’t have one of them around, neither.” I kept playing dumb. “I could tell my uncle, though, if that’d do?”

The commander nodded, seeming satisfied that I was just duller than a bag of rocks instead of a liar. I watched him all the way to the door.

But I was never good at keeping my mouth shut. “Sir—Commander!” I called out, keeping my eyes down, like a good respectful girl in the presence of an officer. With my head down, I was staring straight into the foreigner’s eyes. Something darted across his face, and for a moment I wondered if he recognized me from last night after all. “This mercenary. What’s he wanted for, anyhow?”

The commander paused on the porch. “Treason.”

I raised my eyebrows at the foreigner, a question. Below the counter, he winked at me and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back. “Well, then, I’ll keep an eye out for him, sir.”

I waited until I couldn’t hear the commander’s horse anymore before reaching down to pull the foreigner to his feet. “Treason?”

“You’re a good liar.” A small smile still played over his face. “For someone who doesn’t lie.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” His hand was lingering on mine, fingers against my pulse. I dropped my arm and looked up. That was when I noticed the red staining his white shirt, same as the blood on the counter.

“Turn around.” I sucked air through my teeth. The whole back of his shirt was a mess of red. “I don’t mean to worry you and all,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “but have you noticed that you’ve been shot?”

“Ah.” Looking at him closer now, I could see he was clutching the counter to stay upright. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

four

We sat on the floor behind the counter so that the foreigner could hide if someone came in. The blood was mostly dry, and his shirt was sticking to his skin. I had to cut it off him with his knife. His shoulders were broad and all hard muscles; they rose and fell with shallow breaths as I peeled away the ruined fabric. I was close enough to smell the smoke of last night’s fire on him.

I’d grabbed a bottle of liquor off the shelf. The foreigner sat perfectly still as I doused a clean corner of his shirt in the spirit and wiped it across his skin. We had more liquor to spare than water.

“You shouldn’t be helping me, you know,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t you hear the righteous Commander Naguib? I’m dangerous.”

I snorted. “Yeah, well, so is he.” It was as much truth as I could give without telling him the Blue-Eyed Bandit owed him a favor. “Besides”—my hand darted up—“I’ve got the knife.” He froze, feeling the blade against his neck. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. And then he laughed.

“So you do.” When he spoke, his skin scraped across the edge of the knife like a dangerously close shave. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.” I tried to make it sound like a warning as I went back to work on his shoulder. I dug the tip of the knife into his skin. His muscles bunched under my hand, but he didn’t cry out.

As I tried to get under the bullet, I noticed a tattoo inked on his ribs. I traced the edge with the tips of my fingers. His muscles tensed under my hand, sending shivers all the way through my arm.

“It’s a seagull.” When he spoke, the inked bird moved under my fingertips. “It was the name of the first ship I ever served on. The Black Seagull. It seemed like a grand idea at the time.”