‘The others?’ Jin asked, giving up.

His question was answered before Hala could. Imin stumbled in, servant’s garb badly torn. Shazad pushed her way into the kitchen behind Imin. She had Tamid by the arm. He tried to shake her off angrily as she pushed him ahead of her. Shazad let him go slowly, making it clear she didn’t have to before she did. And then she saw me and that sloppy smile broke over her face as she closed the distance with a hug. I felt my own arms, like they were finally untethered, fling themselves around her.

‘Rahim?’ I asked.

‘Alive.’ She released me. ‘Captured. He’s a soldier through and through. We needed someone to cover our escape. And he wouldn’t run.’ She looked at me. ‘We’re going to fix this.’ And I believed her. Because I was back. I wasn’t a prisoner any more and we could do anything. Her hand tightened on my back. And then Imin was demanding her attention and she split away from me. And I was facing Tamid, who was staring at the ground intently, leaning wrong on his fake leg.

And then my arms were around him. Relief wracked through my body. ‘Thank you.’ I pulled him close.

But Tamid didn’t return the gesture. He pulled away. ‘I’m not a traitor, Amani. I didn’t do it’ – his eyes went to Jin – ‘for your rebellion.’ The only time Tamid had met Jin he’d been pulling me up onto a Buraqi while I left Tamid bleeding in the sand. My guess was that wouldn’t particularly endear him to my childhood friend.

‘Well, then.’ Shazad clapped a hand on his shoulder, as I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘I guess we’ll be keeping both you and the princess under lock and key for a while. Come on.’

‘Where are we?’ I asked finally, glad my voice sounded normal as we started towards the door leading out of the kitchen and into the house.

‘My house,’ Shazad said. I tripped on the bottom step of the kitchen. Jin steadied me. ‘My father is away and I sent my mother and my brother to our house on the coast. I didn’t want to put them in danger.’

‘We’re camping out in General Hamad’s house?’ I asked.

‘No.’ Jin’s hand was at the base of my back. ‘That would be like asking to get caught. We are using it, but most of the camp—’ He winced as he reached for the door, grasping his side. I opened it for him. A fine dining room, dark now, waited on the other side. ‘There’s a garden, not far from here,’ Jin explained as we crossed slowly. ‘It’s linked to this house by a tunnel.’

Jin led me through another door, his hand looping tighter on my waist. I realised he’d scarcely let me go since we’d left the palace. We were propping each other up.

The tunnel started in the cellar, behind two huge boxes that were labelled as being flour but that sounded a lot like guns when I disturbed one of them as we pushed by. Shazad struck an oil lamp to life and led the way.

I wasn’t sure how far we walked. It was more than twice the length of Dustwalk, though. I counted my paces for that long before giving up. And then a pinprick of light appeared ahead of us. Another door, I realised.

I hesitated. Dozens of memories of coming home to the Dev’s peace flooded in. Of standing outside the door in the cliff face, and waiting for it to let me leave the desert dust and come home. That was gone now. That home wouldn’t be waiting for me on the other side of this door. It wouldn’t spill open onto an oasis that had been built out of magic and turned into the Rebellion’s refuge. The people who had died in our escape wouldn’t be on the other side waiting for me. I didn’t know what to expect. But I wanted to come home all the same.

I stepped through.

It was quieter than the old camp. That was the first thing I noticed. And I realised why in an instant. The huge walls that stretched up around the property might block everything from sight except the sky, but we were still in the middle of a city. There were ears all around.

But the place was still blazing with light and with movement.

It wasn’t the desert, but the memory of the desert was still there. Tents were scattered among the campfires and a makeshift armoury had been set up against one of the walls. Lanterns and laundry crisscrossed patterns over the sky. It almost looked like hope.

‘Amani!’ Delila was the first person to see me. She was sprinting across the garden and flung her arms around me, pulling me from Jin’s grip. ‘You’re alive! They got you out! What happened to your hair? I like it, though! You look older. I wanted to come and help, too, but no one would let me.’

I realised as she pushed her hair behind her ears that it looked darker. And not just by some trick of the light or because of an illusion she was casting. It had been dyed black with henna, hiding the telltale Demdji purple. A safety measure in the big city. Ahmed was taking no risks with his little sister.

‘We’ve been over this,’ Shazad said. ‘We need to keep one of you two in the camp at all times just in case we need to hide it.’ She gestured between Delila and Hala, who smiled tightly.

‘And somehow I’m always the expendable one.’

‘Nice to see you, too, little sister,’ Jin joked as she pulled away from me. With a foolish grin Delila flung herself at Jin. I was sure the greeting I was getting was a pale shadow in comparison to what Jin had had when he finally returned.

Navid was on us, grabbing Imin, still in the bloody servant’s garb, in a tight embrace. All those days with Imin roaming the palace and no news couldn’t have been easy on Navid. But Imin had been right – the beard didn’t suit him.