Hero at the Fall (Rebel of the Sands 3)

My fingertips grazed the edge of the window even as the pain in my side stabbed through me like an arrow. My tenuous grip on my power faltered, and I felt it slipping away from me like a handful of sand. The more I tried to hold on to it, the faster it fell. And then, all at once, it was gone, sand dropping out from under me, and I was the one falling. My heart lurched, but my fingers found purchase on the windowsill. I scrambled, trying to pull the sand back, but it was no good. I fought to slow my panicked breathing. I’d been struggling to use my Demdji powers ever since I’d got them back, but they’d never completely abandoned me like this before. What if I only had so much of the power left and I had drained it? What if it was gone forever now?

I felt my fingers start to slip …

And then there were familiar hands on my arms, dragging me up.

‘That’s a hell of an entrance, even for you,’ Jin said, his grip on me never faltering as he pulled me through the window.

I collapsed in a messy heap below the windowsill, my hip throbbing where I’d bashed it on the ledge as I’d scrambled through. I caught my breath as my vision cleared slowly. I felt Jin’s hand on my face. It came away red. ‘Are you aware that you’re bleeding, Bandit?’

I focused on him. He was sitting back on his heels across from me, brow creased with concern. He was clad only in loose desert trousers tied at his hips by a drawstring. My earlier thoughts of crossing the hallway to find him rushed through me, making my whole body flush with heat, even through the pain. ‘Are you aware that you’re not wearing a shirt?’ I retorted.

‘I was sleeping.’ He ran his hand over his face tiredly. Sure enough, I could see behind him the mussed bedsheets and pillows. And sleep was still clinging to him, in the weight of his eyelids and his dishevelled dark hair. I reached out, finding the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. He exhaled as I ran my fingers through it, and I shivered. My blood was still racing from the escape, and now that the pain was ebbing, I felt awake and alive and like every little sensation was magnified a thousand times.

I needed to talk to him, to tell him what I’d decided. What I’d done. What we had left to do. Instead, I moved recklessly, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth where it had a habit of drawing up into a wry smile just for me. He made a noise, low at the back of his throat, as his hand found its way up my neck, into my hair. I shifted closer until his body met mine, wondering how far I was ready to push us into unsteady waters this time.

He caught my hand with his, our fingers lacing together, our palms pressed tightly. And then he drew away just as quickly as he’d moved forward, holding my hand up to the light leaking through the window.

‘Your hands are covered in gunpowder.’ He sounded different now, drawing away as I glanced down. Black powder was buried in the creases of my palms. A part of me wanted to draw him back, to dust off my palms and promise to explain later. To put the Rebellion aside for one night. But Jin was already on his feet, lighting the lamp by the side of his bed so he could see me clearly.

‘Does this have anything to do with why I heard gunfire earlier?’ he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a safe distance between us, putting us back on solid ground, where there was a war happening. I was going to have to explain.

I sketched it out for him as quickly as I could, explaining the offer the captain had made. The price of it. What I’d decided. And my plan.

By the time I was done, Jin was watching me grimly. ‘Amani …’ He hesitated, lingering on my name like he didn’t know where to start. He scrubbed his hand across his jaw, an anxious gesture. ‘You’re seriously considering turning down an army?’

‘I’m not considering it,’ I said, my knees drawn up to my chest. I was leaning against the wall under the open window, and the cool night air spread gooseflesh along my neck. ‘I’ve decided.’

‘An army is what we came here for. And now suddenly you don’t think that’s important?’

‘I don’t think it’s worth trading an entire country for,’ I argued. ‘Or Sam’s life.’

‘We don’t even have a country to trade.’ Jin leaned forwards. ‘Don’t you think we maybe ought to win the throne before we decide it’s under threat, Bandit?’

‘It is under threat.’ I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but I didn’t like his reasoning, cajoling tone. I dropped to a whisper, remembering the soldiers outside. ‘And making alliances with foreigners is how your father wound up in this mess in the first place.’

Jin’s mouth pressed into an angry line. He hated being reminded that the Sultan was his father. I knew that. Because I knew him. I’d done it deliberately, to needle him. ‘You didn’t have a problem letting Hala die for the Rebellion,’ he retorted. Now that was more than a needle. ‘How is Sam different?’

‘Sam doesn’t have to die.’ I clenched my jaw angrily. I didn’t like what he was implying: that I was being governed by feelings instead of reason. That I hadn’t cared about Hala.

‘Hala didn’t either.’

‘No,’ I snapped as quietly as I could. ‘You’re right. I could’ve just left her to be tortured and manipulated by the Sultan. Then would you be questioning my reasons for wanting to save one of our own?’

‘You know that’s not what I—’ he started to interject, but I was done letting him talk. ngertips grazed the edge of the window even as the pain in my side stabbed through me like an arrow. My tenuous grip on my power faltered, and I felt it slipping away from me like a handful of sand. The more I tried to hold on to it, the faster it fell. And then, all at once, it was gone, sand dropping out from under me, and I was the one falling. My heart lurched, but my fingers found purchase on the windowsill. I scrambled, trying to pull the sand back, but it was no good. I fought to slow my panicked breathing. I’d been struggling to use my Demdji powers ever since I’d got them back, but they’d never completely abandoned me like this before. What if I only had so much of the power left and I had drained it? What if it was gone forever now?

I felt my fingers start to slip …

And then there were familiar hands on my arms, dragging me up.

‘That’s a hell of an entrance, even for you,’ Jin said, his grip on me never faltering as he pulled me through the window.

I collapsed in a messy heap below the windowsill, my hip throbbing where I’d bashed it on the ledge as I’d scrambled through. I caught my breath as my vision cleared slowly. I felt Jin’s hand on my face. It came away red. ‘Are you aware that you’re bleeding, Bandit?’

I focused on him. He was sitting back on his heels across from me, brow creased with concern. He was clad only in loose desert trousers tied at his hips by a drawstring. My earlier thoughts of crossing the hallway to find him rushed through me, making my whole body flush with heat, even through the pain. ‘Are you aware that you’re not wearing a shirt?’ I retorted.

‘I was sleeping.’ He ran his hand over his face tiredly. Sure enough, I could see behind him the mussed bedsheets and pillows. And sleep was still clinging to him, in the weight of his eyelids and his dishevelled dark hair. I reached out, finding the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. He exhaled as I ran my fingers through it, and I shivered. My blood was still racing from the escape, and now that the pain was ebbing, I felt awake and alive and like every little sensation was magnified a thousand times.

I needed to talk to him, to tell him what I’d decided. What I’d done. What we had left to do. Instead, I moved recklessly, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth where it had a habit of drawing up into a wry smile just for me. He made a noise, low at the back of his throat, as his hand found its way up my neck, into my hair. I shifted closer until his body met mine, wondering how far I was ready to push us into unsteady waters this time.

He caught my hand with his, our fingers lacing together, our palms pressed tightly. And then he drew away just as quickly as he’d moved forward, holding my hand up to the light leaking through the window.

‘Your hands are covered in gunpowder.’ He sounded different now, drawing away as I glanced down. Black powder was buried in the creases of my palms. A part of me wanted to draw him back, to dust off my palms and promise to explain later. To put the Rebellion aside for one night. But Jin was already on his feet, lighting the lamp by the side of his bed so he could see me clearly.

‘Does this have anything to do with why I heard gunfire earlier?’ he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a safe distance between us, putting us back on solid ground, where there was a war happening. I was going to have to explain.

I sketched it out for him as quickly as I could, explaining the offer the captain had made. The price of it. What I’d decided. And my plan.

By the time I was done, Jin was watching me grimly. ‘Amani …’ He hesitated, lingering on my name like he didn’t know where to start. He scrubbed his hand across his jaw, an anxious gesture. ‘You’re seriously considering turning down an army?’

‘I’m not considering it,’ I said, my knees drawn up to my chest. I was leaning against the wall under the open window, and the cool night air spread gooseflesh along my neck. ‘I’ve decided.’

‘An army is what we came here for. And now suddenly you don’t think that’s important?’

‘I don’t think it’s worth trading an entire country for,’ I argued. ‘Or Sam’s life.’

‘We don’t even have a country to trade.’ Jin leaned forwards. ‘Don’t you think we maybe ought to win the throne before we decide it’s under threat, Bandit?’

‘It is under threat.’ I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but I didn’t like his reasoning, cajoling tone. I dropped to a whisper, remembering the soldiers outside. ‘And making alliances with foreigners is how your father wound up in this mess in the first place.’

Jin’s mouth pressed into an angry line. He hated being reminded that the Sultan was his father. I knew that. Because I knew him. I’d done it deliberately, to needle him. ‘You didn’t have a problem letting Hala die for the Rebellion,’ he retorted. Now that was more than a needle. ‘How is Sam different?’

‘Sam doesn’t have to die.’ I clenched my jaw angrily. I didn’t like what he was implying: that I was being governed by feelings instead of reason. That I hadn’t cared about Hala.

‘Hala didn’t either.’

‘No,’ I snapped as quietly as I could. ‘You’re right. I could’ve just left her to be tortured and manipulated by the Sultan. Then would you be questioning my reasons for wanting to save one of our own?’

‘You know that’s not what I—’ he started to interject, but I was done letting him talk.