Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands 1)

Shazad raised an eyebrow at me appraisingly, then lowered the weapon.

“Wow,” the curly-haired boy, Bahi, said to me. “I’ve never seen her give up so easily. She must like you.”

Shazad ignored him, “She knew the password,” she said simply. “Jin must trust her.”

Sakhr, I remembered.

“The door didn’t open, though,” I argued.

“It only opens from the inside,” Shazad said. “Any mortal who knows the true name of the Djinni who built this place can speak his name to request entry. It alerts us on the inside. We found the story of this place in an old book, along with the Djinni’s true name. Lucky for us, it turned out to be true when we had to flee Izman.”

True names had power. Shazad said, “So who let you lot in?”

“There are other ways in, if you’re able to fly.” Or willing to climb. I looked at the tops of the cliffs that surrounded us. If you knew the path, you could probably make your way in over the top of the canyon. How long until the Gallan from Fahali found their way in?

“Forgive us—” Ahmed paused expectantly.

“Amani,” I supplied.

“Amani.” He stepped around the table. “You’re tired. Would you like to sit and eat something and—”

“Bahi!” A new voice made everyone’s head turn. The girl who rushed in was younger than I was. Her hair was a dark purple, spreading in soft waves framing a round face earnest with panic. “Something’s happening to my brother. Jin’s babbling in his sleep.”

There was that word again. Brother.

She looked even less like Jin than the Rebel Prince.

“That’s normal,” Bahi said. “The Nightmare venom’ll be burning out of his system.”

“You’re sure?” The purple-haired girl’s voice was thin with tears.

“Delila.” The prince reached out for her comfortingly. For his sister, I realized.

“You’re the Djinni’s daughter,” I blurted. My head was spinning, trying to remember what was real and what was only something I’d heard around campfires. “From the story.”

Delila was momentarily distracted from her worry. She brushed her violent purple hair back behind her shoulders, like she could hide it.

“Expecting fangs and scales?” Prince Ahmed smiled like it was a joke, but there was a tinge of wariness there, too.

“Wings and horns, actually,” I half joked. That was what they’d said the prince’s monster sister looked like in Dustwalk. The younger girl’s eyes dashed to the ground, embarrassed. The air shifted around her head, like heat in the desert. The tinges of purple disappeared and her hair was as pure black as her brother’s. She fiddled with it self-consciously. I was suddenly sorry for having said anything at all.

“I’ll go check on him anyway.” Bahi scratched his neck, looking awkward in the tension. As he did, I saw blue ink etched into his palm in a perfect circle thick with lacing symbols.

My heart sank.

“You’re a Holy Man.” Back in Dustwalk, we stitched up our own gunshot wounds and missing fingers. You had to be missing a pair of limbs or a bucket of blood before it warranted the Holy Father’s intervention. We only called him when everything but prayer was hopeless—to heal in part, but also to bargain at the doors of death. The presence of a Holy Man was never a good sign. It was a last resort.

The thought must’ve shown on my face. “Don’t worry.” Bahi held up his other hand. It was blank. The matching tattoo that ought to have been there was missing. “I’m not a very good one.”

He put his marked hand on Delila’s shoulder, leading her out as he leaned in conspiratorially, speaking in her ear. He said something that made her laugh through her worry. I wished I knew what. I could use some words that would unknot the worry in my gut. If I’d dragged Jin halfway across the desert to die, I was going to kill him.

“What happened to him?” Prince Ahmed’s accent was neater than mine, but softer than Commander Naguib’s. Naguib. He was the Sultan’s son, too. He was Jin’s brother just as much as Prince Ahmed was.

Jin had pointed his gun at Naguib’s face and hadn’t pulled the trigger. It was a sin to kill your own blood.

“Is there anyone else related to Jin I ought to know about before answering that?” If ever there was a time to watch my smart mouth. It wasn’t even them I was angry at.

But Shazad snorted a laugh. An unpolished, undignified laugh that didn’t match the rest of her, and that didn’t seem to be at me either. “Not that we’re aware of. But you can never be sure with the Sultan and his women.”

But Ahmed caught the edge in my words. “You didn’t know he was my brother.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn't even know he was part of the rebellion.” Humiliation burned inside me. Ahmed and Shazad were both looking at me, waiting for me to say something that might explain why anyone would drag someone she didn’t even know through the desert. I wasn’t sure how to explain how the two of us got so tangled up.

“Jin blew up a factory.” That seemed like the right place to start, only it wasn’t, really. “That was after we burned down a building,” I added. “But that was sort of an accident.” Shazad’s face lit up with a smile. Like she’d just decided something about me and liked it. Then it all came tumbling out. d raised an eyebrow at me appraisingly, then lowered the weapon.

“Wow,” the curly-haired boy, Bahi, said to me. “I’ve never seen her give up so easily. She must like you.”

Shazad ignored him, “She knew the password,” she said simply. “Jin must trust her.”

Sakhr, I remembered.

“The door didn’t open, though,” I argued.

“It only opens from the inside,” Shazad said. “Any mortal who knows the true name of the Djinni who built this place can speak his name to request entry. It alerts us on the inside. We found the story of this place in an old book, along with the Djinni’s true name. Lucky for us, it turned out to be true when we had to flee Izman.”

True names had power. Shazad said, “So who let you lot in?”

“There are other ways in, if you’re able to fly.” Or willing to climb. I looked at the tops of the cliffs that surrounded us. If you knew the path, you could probably make your way in over the top of the canyon. How long until the Gallan from Fahali found their way in?

“Forgive us—” Ahmed paused expectantly.

“Amani,” I supplied.

“Amani.” He stepped around the table. “You’re tired. Would you like to sit and eat something and—”

“Bahi!” A new voice made everyone’s head turn. The girl who rushed in was younger than I was. Her hair was a dark purple, spreading in soft waves framing a round face earnest with panic. “Something’s happening to my brother. Jin’s babbling in his sleep.”

There was that word again. Brother.

She looked even less like Jin than the Rebel Prince.

“That’s normal,” Bahi said. “The Nightmare venom’ll be burning out of his system.”

“You’re sure?” The purple-haired girl’s voice was thin with tears.

“Delila.” The prince reached out for her comfortingly. For his sister, I realized.

“You’re the Djinni’s daughter,” I blurted. My head was spinning, trying to remember what was real and what was only something I’d heard around campfires. “From the story.”

Delila was momentarily distracted from her worry. She brushed her violent purple hair back behind her shoulders, like she could hide it.

“Expecting fangs and scales?” Prince Ahmed smiled like it was a joke, but there was a tinge of wariness there, too.

“Wings and horns, actually,” I half joked. That was what they’d said the prince’s monster sister looked like in Dustwalk. The younger girl’s eyes dashed to the ground, embarrassed. The air shifted around her head, like heat in the desert. The tinges of purple disappeared and her hair was as pure black as her brother’s. She fiddled with it self-consciously. I was suddenly sorry for having said anything at all.

“I’ll go check on him anyway.” Bahi scratched his neck, looking awkward in the tension. As he did, I saw blue ink etched into his palm in a perfect circle thick with lacing symbols.

My heart sank.

“You’re a Holy Man.” Back in Dustwalk, we stitched up our own gunshot wounds and missing fingers. You had to be missing a pair of limbs or a bucket of blood before it warranted the Holy Father’s intervention. We only called him when everything but prayer was hopeless—to heal in part, but also to bargain at the doors of death. The presence of a Holy Man was never a good sign. It was a last resort.

The thought must’ve shown on my face. “Don’t worry.” Bahi held up his other hand. It was blank. The matching tattoo that ought to have been there was missing. “I’m not a very good one.”

He put his marked hand on Delila’s shoulder, leading her out as he leaned in conspiratorially, speaking in her ear. He said something that made her laugh through her worry. I wished I knew what. I could use some words that would unknot the worry in my gut. If I’d dragged Jin halfway across the desert to die, I was going to kill him.

“What happened to him?” Prince Ahmed’s accent was neater than mine, but softer than Commander Naguib’s. Naguib. He was the Sultan’s son, too. He was Jin’s brother just as much as Prince Ahmed was.

Jin had pointed his gun at Naguib’s face and hadn’t pulled the trigger. It was a sin to kill your own blood.

“Is there anyone else related to Jin I ought to know about before answering that?” If ever there was a time to watch my smart mouth. It wasn’t even them I was angry at.

But Shazad snorted a laugh. An unpolished, undignified laugh that didn’t match the rest of her, and that didn’t seem to be at me either. “Not that we’re aware of. But you can never be sure with the Sultan and his women.”

But Ahmed caught the edge in my words. “You didn’t know he was my brother.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn't even know he was part of the rebellion.” Humiliation burned inside me. Ahmed and Shazad were both looking at me, waiting for me to say something that might explain why anyone would drag someone she didn’t even know through the desert. I wasn’t sure how to explain how the two of us got so tangled up.

“Jin blew up a factory.” That seemed like the right place to start, only it wasn’t, really. “That was after we burned down a building,” I added. “But that was sort of an accident.” Shazad’s face lit up with a smile. Like she’d just decided something about me and liked it. Then it all came tumbling out.