Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands 1)

I held my breath as Noorsham looked up. The lock on the side of the mask was loose. The force of the sand had knocked it open. I watched as Noorsham’s hands came up to his face, shaking. The bronze mask that encircled his whole head came off.

He looked terribly young without it. As young as he had when he’d been just a blue-eyed, smart-mouthed boy from the shop in Dustwalk. A kid I’d figured was fragile and human and destined to die.

I’d been wrong on all counts.

“This city’s not the one who ought to burn,” he said, raising his hand toward Naguib.

The heat rolled off him in one angry wave, rocking everything in its path. The Gallan guns leveled on Noorsham. I pulled both my hands up, dragging the desert with them. Shielding him from the bullets as his fire crashed toward our enemy.

Naguib screamed.

thirty

I was born in the desert. The desert was part of me. That was all I remembered of the fight that followed. Chaos and sand and gunshots that didn’t hit me. And when all my enemies were gone I slumped back against a wall, too tired to care if anyone wanted to shoot me or burn me alive.

“Amani.” My eyes flew open. Jin was standing in the gates to Fahali. His face cleared as he saw me, and he ran toward me, relief written all over him. “Thank God.”

“You don’t believe in God,” I said. It came out half a croak just as he closed the last of the space between us with a kiss.

A throat cleared behind us. We tore apart.

The twins were standing a few feet away with matching crossed arms. They looked a little singed, but otherwise no worse for wear. “Is that the congratulations we’re going to get for surviving?” Maz asked. “Because I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Izz’s hair stuck up. “I know how I feel about it.”

“And I know how I feel about breaking both your noses.” Shazad shoved Izz with one hand without breaking stride. Hala trailed in her wake, golden skin smeared red with blood. I realized the fighting was done. And we were all still alive. I wanted to cry in relief. Shazad sheathed her scimitar before reaching and pulling me into a hug. I collapsed into her gratefully.

As we broke apart, I realized we had an audience. The people of Fahali were crowding around us, gathering as the dust settled. Only they weren’t looking at us. Every eye in the street was fixed on Ahmed.

He was standing just outside the city gates, with three Mirajin soldiers. Prisoners, I guessed, as they waited on their knees, heads bowed, for his verdict.

He really did carry himself like a prince. I saw it now. The smiling, friendly Ahmed who’d brushed off “your majesty” was gone. But he wasn’t some golden ruler ready to climb onto a throne either. He looked like a legendary hero fresh from battle. Like a man who could lead this country.

“What happened?” I asked, leaning on Shazad. Everything was a blur after Naguib’s death.

“The Gallan soldiers who survived retreated,” Shazad answered in a low voice as we looked on. “I saw them riding north. When they report back to their king that the Sultan tried to kill them, he won’t have an alliance on his hands anymore. What was left of Naguib’s army surrendered to us after he died. Everyone saw him burn.”

“And Noorsham? I lost track of him in the fighting . . .”

“Then he’s gone.” Shazad’s jaw tightened.

He’d gotten away. I tried to hide the relief on my face. Noorsham had killed Bahi. The boy who drunkenly serenaded her below a window and joined a rebellion for her. But he was still my brother. My brother, who had the power to destroy this whole desert if he chose to, was out there somewhere. And he knew my true name.

“I am not going to kill you.” Ahmed was speaking to the Mirajin soldiers who had surrendered, his voice loud enough for those around him to hear. “Execution without trial is what the Gallan have done here for decades. And their influence on our desert will be ending soon.” One of the three Mirajin soldiers glanced up, like he was just daring to hope he might get out of here with his life. “So I will release you on the condition that you carry a message to my father.”

A rustle went through the crowd at “my father.” If Ahmed noticed, he didn’t let it show. “You will tell him Fahali is whole and it is under my protection. That I am laying claim to every city west of the middle mountains. My father cannot hold this whole country against its will without the Gallan alliance. And if he will not listen to the people’s will, he will listen to mine. One way or another, I will take the throne of this nation one day. But until then, these are my people.”

Everyone’s attention was on Ahmed now as his eyes traveled between the three soldiers. They might flee Miraji before going back to the Sultan with Ahmed’s words. But stories had a way of traveling in the desert. The Sultan would hear that the Rebel Prince had stood in the ashes of the battle of Fahali and laid claim to half his kingdom. “And if he comes after my people, I will bring war to his doorstep.”

“A new dawn!” The cry burst out of the crowd before Ahmed had even fully finished speaking.

“A new desert!” A dozen voices called back, ragged and out of pace.

“A new dawn! A new desert!” The cry was taken up around Fahali, thousands of Mirajin voices together as one. Chanting for their prince, their hero, for all of us.

The sun was setting as we made our way out of the city and back into the Dev’s Valley. When the story of this day reached the Sultan, no one would tell him we were a small rabble of tired and sorry-looking rebels. That we didn’t look fit to fight the war that was coming. That half of us weren’t sure if we could. He would only know that we had won and were still alive. d my breath as Noorsham looked up. The lock on the side of the mask was loose. The force of the sand had knocked it open. I watched as Noorsham’s hands came up to his face, shaking. The bronze mask that encircled his whole head came off.

He looked terribly young without it. As young as he had when he’d been just a blue-eyed, smart-mouthed boy from the shop in Dustwalk. A kid I’d figured was fragile and human and destined to die.

I’d been wrong on all counts.

“This city’s not the one who ought to burn,” he said, raising his hand toward Naguib.

The heat rolled off him in one angry wave, rocking everything in its path. The Gallan guns leveled on Noorsham. I pulled both my hands up, dragging the desert with them. Shielding him from the bullets as his fire crashed toward our enemy.

Naguib screamed.

thirty

I was born in the desert. The desert was part of me. That was all I remembered of the fight that followed. Chaos and sand and gunshots that didn’t hit me. And when all my enemies were gone I slumped back against a wall, too tired to care if anyone wanted to shoot me or burn me alive.

“Amani.” My eyes flew open. Jin was standing in the gates to Fahali. His face cleared as he saw me, and he ran toward me, relief written all over him. “Thank God.”

“You don’t believe in God,” I said. It came out half a croak just as he closed the last of the space between us with a kiss.

A throat cleared behind us. We tore apart.

The twins were standing a few feet away with matching crossed arms. They looked a little singed, but otherwise no worse for wear. “Is that the congratulations we’re going to get for surviving?” Maz asked. “Because I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Izz’s hair stuck up. “I know how I feel about it.”

“And I know how I feel about breaking both your noses.” Shazad shoved Izz with one hand without breaking stride. Hala trailed in her wake, golden skin smeared red with blood. I realized the fighting was done. And we were all still alive. I wanted to cry in relief. Shazad sheathed her scimitar before reaching and pulling me into a hug. I collapsed into her gratefully.

As we broke apart, I realized we had an audience. The people of Fahali were crowding around us, gathering as the dust settled. Only they weren’t looking at us. Every eye in the street was fixed on Ahmed.

He was standing just outside the city gates, with three Mirajin soldiers. Prisoners, I guessed, as they waited on their knees, heads bowed, for his verdict.

He really did carry himself like a prince. I saw it now. The smiling, friendly Ahmed who’d brushed off “your majesty” was gone. But he wasn’t some golden ruler ready to climb onto a throne either. He looked like a legendary hero fresh from battle. Like a man who could lead this country.

“What happened?” I asked, leaning on Shazad. Everything was a blur after Naguib’s death.

“The Gallan soldiers who survived retreated,” Shazad answered in a low voice as we looked on. “I saw them riding north. When they report back to their king that the Sultan tried to kill them, he won’t have an alliance on his hands anymore. What was left of Naguib’s army surrendered to us after he died. Everyone saw him burn.”

“And Noorsham? I lost track of him in the fighting . . .”

“Then he’s gone.” Shazad’s jaw tightened.

He’d gotten away. I tried to hide the relief on my face. Noorsham had killed Bahi. The boy who drunkenly serenaded her below a window and joined a rebellion for her. But he was still my brother. My brother, who had the power to destroy this whole desert if he chose to, was out there somewhere. And he knew my true name.

“I am not going to kill you.” Ahmed was speaking to the Mirajin soldiers who had surrendered, his voice loud enough for those around him to hear. “Execution without trial is what the Gallan have done here for decades. And their influence on our desert will be ending soon.” One of the three Mirajin soldiers glanced up, like he was just daring to hope he might get out of here with his life. “So I will release you on the condition that you carry a message to my father.”

A rustle went through the crowd at “my father.” If Ahmed noticed, he didn’t let it show. “You will tell him Fahali is whole and it is under my protection. That I am laying claim to every city west of the middle mountains. My father cannot hold this whole country against its will without the Gallan alliance. And if he will not listen to the people’s will, he will listen to mine. One way or another, I will take the throne of this nation one day. But until then, these are my people.”

Everyone’s attention was on Ahmed now as his eyes traveled between the three soldiers. They might flee Miraji before going back to the Sultan with Ahmed’s words. But stories had a way of traveling in the desert. The Sultan would hear that the Rebel Prince had stood in the ashes of the battle of Fahali and laid claim to half his kingdom. “And if he comes after my people, I will bring war to his doorstep.”

“A new dawn!” The cry burst out of the crowd before Ahmed had even fully finished speaking.

“A new desert!” A dozen voices called back, ragged and out of pace.

“A new dawn! A new desert!” The cry was taken up around Fahali, thousands of Mirajin voices together as one. Chanting for their prince, their hero, for all of us.

The sun was setting as we made our way out of the city and back into the Dev’s Valley. When the story of this day reached the Sultan, no one would tell him we were a small rabble of tired and sorry-looking rebels. That we didn’t look fit to fight the war that was coming. That half of us weren’t sure if we could. He would only know that we had won and were still alive.