Throne of Sand (Desert Nights Book 1)

by Helena Rookwood

  “The princess is thirsty, Kassim,” Elian called. He didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty. “I’ll go fetch her some extra water.” He dropped back, cantering along the line of shadowy figures stretching out behind us.

  I turned back to Kassim. He looked at my face intently. I sighed. There was no hiding it from him now. He was betrothed to a girl with a face like a jackal.

  But if he was horrified, Kassim didn’t mention it. Still, I looked away from him as we rode on in silence, the hiss of sand beneath our horses’ hooves the only sound disturbing the hot swell of the desert.

  This was the first time we’d been alone together since we had danced when I first came to the palace. I tilted my head to try and look at him without him noticing. He was scowling, as usual, his beautiful, amber eyes staring ahead of us, his full, wide mouth set in a sullen line.

  If he’d realized the same thing I had, he didn’t look particularly pleased by it.

  “Are you glad to be out in the desert?” I blurted, suddenly desperate to not be riding along in silence.

  “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Well, it’s nice to get out of the palace for a while, isn’t it? Away from all those stuffy traditions and high walls that mean you can’t see the horizon.”

  “You think my palace is stuffy?”

  “Well, uh… Not stuffy exactly…”

  “What then?” He glared at me. “What exactly about the palace isn’t to your liking?”

  “It’s all to my liking,” I said hastily. “I just meant it’s nice to get away from it sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “Either you enjoy being in the palace or you don’t.”

  “Oh, I don’t know!” I said in frustration. “I’m just enjoying being out riding, and I thought you might be, too. Please, continue to ride next to me in silence. I’m sure you’d rather count the grains of sand than, you know, actually talk to me for once.”

  I dug my heels into Bandit’s side, urging him on so I didn’t have to see what kind of a reaction that prompted from Kassim. I’d probably regret my outburst later, but spirits, the sultan made me so angry.

  He reappeared at my shoulder, having urged his own horse into a trot. “You shouldn’t ride ahead of the sultan, you know.”

  I whirled around to snap at him, but to my surprise, the corners of his mouth twisted up, his eyes dark with humor.

  “You’re teasing me now?”

  “No.” He smirked. “I’m distracting you while I overtake you.” Kassim kicked at his horse and sped past me until he was a few paces ahead again. “There. That’s better,” he called over his shoulder.

  I paused, the challenge pushing at my competitive nature. “You think you can outride me?”

  He didn’t answer as he flashed me a grin before rocketing forward, his horse racing ahead of the guard and galloping away.

  I froze for a moment, too shocked to do anything else.

  Then I urged Bandit into a gallop.

  We sped over the sand, the desert shooting past us in a bright, golden blur. I laughed as we passed the sultan, my Khirideshi stallion easily outpacing his steed. I flung my head back and closed my eyes, giving myself over to the rhythm set by my horse. My headscarf flew back, the hot air raked through my hair and over my cheeks, and for the first time since arriving in Astaran, I truly felt like myself.

  At that thought, I slowed to a stop, suddenly aware of the heat on my cheeks and sweat running down my back. I licked my lips, wincing when I felt the rough skin beneath my tongue. Perhaps it was good that Elian was fetching me some water.

  I glanced back. The line of guards was now far behind me – although Kassim closed in quickly. His horse slid to a halt in a cloud of dust.

  “You took your time,” I said idly.

  The sultan’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as his lips curled up. “I don’t count that as conclusive. You have, by far, the better horse. Even if you did steal it from me.”

  His long fingers moved to stroke his horse’s mane, and I found my gaze fixed on the gentle sweeping motion. When I dragged my gaze back to his face, he smirked.

  “Want to swap, horse thief?”

  My cheeks grew even hotter. At least he thinks my interest is in the horse. “I don’t think so,” I said primly. “I’d prefer to retain my status as the better rider.”

  “So you admit you couldn’t outride me if we changed horses?”

  I glared at him, unable to think up a response that didn’t involve a very un-princess-like hand gesture.

  “I think I am beginning to enjoy being out of the palace after all,” he said slowly, tilting his head to one side, his eyes fixed on my face.

  My heart pounded in my chest. As if he sensed what I was feeling, my horse took a quick step toward the sultan, bringing us closer.

  Kassim frowned. “Do you have a preference for your jewelry, Zadie?” He asked suddenly, his gaze searching my face, neck and then dropping to the ring on my finger.

  My chest tightened. I hastily shoved my hand into my pocket. Has he guessed about the ring?

  “Jewelry?” I repeated faintly.

  “I take it you understand what the word means.”

  “Of course,” I snapped.

  “A number of princes have expressed interest in a match with Safiyya and we’ll be entertaining the suitors at the palace next week so she can choose whomever is most suitable. I believe it’s tradition for a sultan to buy a gift for his betrothed for formal occasions...”

  Tradition again. Kassim’s favourite topic.

  I relaxed and slid my hand back out of my pocket. “Isn’t Safiyya a bit too young to be getting married?”

  Kassim threw me an irritated look. “It’ll be a long engagement. But it’s vital to strengthen our relations with other kingdoms. Besides, both of my other sisters were already betrothed at her age.”

  I snuck a look back along the distant line of horses to where Elian had disappeared into the clouds of dust to fetch me some water. I thought I knew who Safiyya would choose if given any kind of real choice in the matter.

  “So,” Kassim drawled. “What jewelry do you want?”

  “I don’t really wear jewelry,” I replied. “If you want to get me a gift, you can get me a book.”

  “A book?” The sultan looked aghast.

  I nodded emphatically. “I brought a book with me that might interest you, actually.”

  He looked blank. “What book?”

  “It’s called Spirits of Smoke and Fire. I thought it might be useful.”

  “Is it from the palace library? You shouldn’t bring books from the library into the desert.”

  “It’s from a library,” I replied evasively. Kassim didn’t need to know I’d stolen it from the Order of the Scholars. “I’ve not even been shown the palace library yet,” I added pointedly.

  “Well, princesses aren’t usually interested in books.”

  “Then aren’t you lucky to have found one who is? Especially considering the purpose of our current journey.”

  Kassim took a deep breath and cast his eyes up to the sky. “A book about spirits?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would that be useful?”

  “Do you want to see it or not?”

  A shadow suddenly fell over us and the vizier cut into our conversation. “I’d certainly be interested in taking a look.”

  I looked over my shoulder to where she’d ridden up behind us. Unlike the rest of our party, she’d spurned the cool Astarian white-and-cream robes for a dress of midnight blue and a long, black headscarf edged with gold embroidery. Irritatingly, she didn’t seem even the slightest bit bothered by the heat.

  She gave me a knowing smile. “You seem to have a gift for sourcing rare and valuable literature these days.” Her eyes narrowed. “Kassim, Elian asked if you would join him for a moment.”

  “Of course, Hepzibah.” His cheeks had turned a little pink. Was he embarrassed? Of what? The fact we’d been
riding together unchaperoned? “Look after Princess Zadie until I return.”

  The vizier’s smile widened. “Certainly.”

  Kassim whirled his horse around and trotted back down the line in a cloud of dust. I watched him go, unwilling to enter into conversation with the vizier unless I absolutely had to.

  I jumped as her voice sounded right by my ear.

  “Why don’t we chat a bit more about that page you found.”

  Without thinking, I squeezed my thighs against Bandit’s sides and the horse picked up its pace again. I began to feel like I might faint in the heat. A bead of sweat slid down the back of my neck, the hot air seeming to thicken.

  I wiped a hand across my forehead and focused resolutely on the sand before us.

  A hot wind suddenly swelled, picking up the sand at our feet and depositing yet more golden dust into my lap, the grit sticking in the corners of my eyes. I blinked hard, unsure whether wiping my eyes would remove the irritation or worsen it.

  “So tell me, princess.” The vizier’s voice was very close to my ear again. “Where did you source this book about spirits? The same place as the missing page?”

  She’d brought her horse up right alongside mine. Her scent reminded me of the one my mother had doused me in the day Kassim had arrived in Satra – the heavy, woody smell of oud. It didn’t help my swimming head.

  I forced a smile onto my face. I was hardly going to admit to being in the Order with the thieves. “Yes, actually. From a merchant in the bazaar. I’m afraid I can’t recall his name. The title drew my attention, and when I picked it up, there was a sheaf of loose papers underneath. I recognized the name of the talisman Kassim had mentioned.” I licked my dry, swollen lips again. “The merchant wouldn’t sell me just the sheet of paper, so I bought the book, too.”

  The vizier gave me a thin smile. “And what, exactly, about a book on spirits would draw a princess’ attention in the first place?”

  I fell silent, resisting the urge to glance down at the ring on my finger. I couldn’t tell her I’d hoped the book might tell me more about the devious djinni I’d accidentally found myself the master of. Oh, and with whom I’d accidentally made a deal.

  The vizier reached out her hand, her long fingers clamping around my arm like a manacle. Her touch was cold on my skin, despite the stifling heat, and I stilled. What kind of sorcery is this?

  “I’m not sure I believe that story, Scheherazade.”

  Another blast of wind gusted and fell, the sand glittering in the air as it danced around us. Thoughts raced through my mind. I’d wondered if the vizier had been the thieves’ mysterious benefactor when I’d first seen the book in the council rooms, but now, I was increasingly sure. And if that was the case, then she knew I’d stolen the page, even if she didn’t know how.

  But why did that matter? We were both trying to help Kassim.

  I glanced back toward the pale line of guards on horses behind us. They faded in and out of view as the sand swelled, puffing out clouds of golden dust. I narrowed my eyes. I could no longer make out the end of the line, where Kassim and Elian must still be.

  “I know you think you’re helping, Scheherazade,” the vizier’s voice was low. “But you can only truly help the sultan by acting as the bride who was promised. You are not here to advise him, or source rare books, or help track down talismans”

  “And yet I’m here, aren’t I?” I snapped, my control fraying like the edges of a well-worn carpet.

  “Yes. Somehow you are.”

  Suddenly, I was certain the vizier had lied about me being sick. There was no servant, no mix up. She didn’t want me here. The sand lifted into the air so that the light brightened and dimmed around us.

  “Kassim needs me,” I said. “You can’t speak to the soothsayer without me. And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even know how to find the talisman.”

  The vizier let out a pitying laugh. “You don’t even know why we’re looking for it.”

  I flushed at the truth of that statement. “It doesn’t matter. I know it’s important to Kassim.”

  “Now that is the attitude I expect from a princess. And what’s important to Kassim is that he has a wife he can rely on. Who will be at his side when required and see to the running of the palace while he is away. Who will be humble and beautiful, one other sultans will envy.” Her gaze ran over my disheveled appearance as she readjusted her own headscarf, winding the ends of it around and around her head until only her eyes were visible. They stared out at me from beneath the black-and-gold material.

  I knew I should do the same, what with the wind making the sand dance in the air, but the thought of mimicking her was too much, so I resigned myself to swallowing yet more of the sand whipping around us.

  “Make no mistake, princess–” the vizier called, her voice battling against the wind. Whatever she was about to say next was swallowed into the belly of the sand ballooning up around us.

  I put my hands to my headscarf, wishing I had just swallowed my pride and rearranged it earlier. It grew increasingly difficult to even see the vizier, her figure reduced to smudges of black and blue behind a wall of glittering gold. The sand grazed my skin painfully as I hurried to tie my headscarf around my face. My breath was hot behind the wall of fabric, but at least it stopped me from inhaling sand.

  “Princess!” A voice sounded briefly before it was snatched away by the winds.

  Spirits, it seemed like a sandstorm was settling in. I’d been so distracted by the vizier I hadn’t fully noticed the change in the weather. I turned back, but I could no longer see any of the guards who had been behind me. Had they already secured tents to wait out the storm?

  The sound of whinnying suddenly grew closer, and Elian erupted from the sand. His scimitar was drawn, his eyes wide and frantic as they searched through the dust cloud. His face broke with relief as I came back into sight.

  The vizier appeared out of the swirling sand beside us, a long, thin blade clutched in her own hand. “What is it, Elian?”

  “A sandstorm?” I asked quickly.

  But Elian shook his head, reaching out for Bandit’s reins to draw me closer. “No, princess. An attack!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I froze, the sand whipping against my cheeks. An attack? From bandits again?

  I gripped my horse’s reins, wishing I had a knife, a sword, something to defend myself with. Not that I’d know how to use it. At least I was on the Khirideshi stallion. After all, he had defended me last time.

  “Who?” the vizier asked sharply, moving her horse into a more defensive position.

  Elian hesitated, fear flickering across his face. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s almost like they are the storm... They appear one moment and are gone the next...”

  A chill ran down my back, despite the heat.

  I twisted around in my saddle, trying to peer through the furious flurry of sand. I could see nothing beyond the dark sand pitching and wheeling through the air. But the sound of muffled shouts was just audible, punctuated by high-pitched shrieks that didn’t quite sound of this world…

  “What do you mean, Captain?” the vizier snapped, although she turned very pale as the shrieks grew louder.

  Elian just shook his head. “This is no human attack…”

  My hands began to tremble. I had heard about the imps, ifrits, and djinn that haunted the desert. Spirits, I carried one on my finger. And according to the stories, people who were attacked by these creatures didn’t usually make it out of the desert alive…

  Another unearthly shriek split the air.

  Did these spirits somehow know what treasure we sought in the old city? I swallowed, sand sticking in my throat.

  The air had grown dark. The sand rose up around us like walls, blocking out the sunlight and keeping us trapped in its middle. Flashes rippled through the dust, reminding me of lightning in the clouds.

  What kind of spirits fly like fire through the sand?


  Sand scraped against my face, into my ears, into every opening of my clothes. Even my headscarf couldn’t keep it completely at bay. I lifted an arm, trying to keep the grit from my eyes. The desperate cries of our guards grew louder, wails and screams interrupting the war cries we had heard earlier.

  “Go!” I shouted at Elian above the roar of the storm. “You have to go back to them!”

  The captain gave me a look that very clearly said he wasn’t going to leave me.

  I turned my horse, determined to get back to Kassim – and stopped again as a strange, creeping laughter swelled with the gusts of wind, then died away as the sand dropped back to the ground. A prickling sensation ran down my neck.

  Then a line of fire whipped across my back.

  I screamed.

  It clutched at my shoulders, burning fingers digging into my flesh. My skin wrinkled and crisped at its touch and I gagged at the smell of roasting meat.

  My flesh is burning from my body.

  I let out a whimper as pain ripped through me.

  I wrenched myself sideways, away from the flames, hanging from Bandit’s side. The line across my back burned, and the acidic taste of vomit reached the back of my throat. I could still feel the heat of the spirit close by as I leaned away from the searing flames.

  A blade sparkled above me.

  Elian.

  It danced and flashed, catching the light of the fire-spirit, and with each powerful swing of his scimitar, Elian drove the spirit back, the searing heat retreating. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself back upright, wincing as another line of pain lanced down my back.

  A long, thin flame rippled before us, slowly receding as Elian lunged for it. He whirled and swung his scimitar as fast as the sand flying up around him, his huge form dark against the fire. For a moment, it looked like he was winning.

  Then laughter crept through the air again, a whining crackle of the sand, and a line of fire whipped forward, reaching for Elian.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Is that what struck my back?

  With a speed I was certain a man of his size shouldn’t be able to achieve, Elian brought his sword back up to meet the flames, his blade glimmering in the firelight. Sparks flew as metal met fire, a low, wailing sound reverberating through the air.