This Djanna was different than what Kamar recalled.

It could be the fact that he was hurrying after Mikhail in the dark, dawn beginning to creep in the sky, lifting the shroud of cover they used to cross the border of Zhebair into Djanna. Kamar’s heart still hammered thinking about the equal parts thrill and anxiety he’d waded through to get where he was.

The only thing that had kept him going was keeping his sights locked on Mikhail’s determined, forward-moving back and sometimes it helped when his eyes dragged a little lower to ogle Mikhail’s shapely, firm behind.

They huffed and puffed up and down sand dunes. Kamar was ready to beg for a break when a dark form broke the horizon. Refuge never looked sweeter, especially when Mikhail appeared to be heading in that direction.

Catching up to him, Kamar tugged down the scarf from his mouth. “Is that where we’re going?” he asked, panting softly.

“I hope,” Mikhail said behind his scarf.

Pulling his scarf back on, Kamar focused on matching his strides to Mikhail’s. He wanted to get there as fast as they could. The sooner they arrived, the quicker he could collapse and give his aching muscles a break.

By the time they were at the back of the building, Kamar stretched his neck up to take in the massive stone fortification. He had one question on his mind.

“Just how are we going to get in?” Kamar wondered.

Mikhail pressed a finger to his lips, and then he gestured for Kamar to approach the wall. Very carefully, he started setting aside stones. Pulling them out of the wall and setting them off to the side. Realizing it would be faster with two pairs of hands, Kamar crouched by his side and worked in tandem. Mikhail pulled the stones out, and he passed them to Kamar who was glad to unload them.

Once there was enough space to crawl through, Mikhail gestured for Kamar to follow. They were inside a small dark and dank room, what looked to be a cellar of sorts. Only the light of dawn warmed the space. Soon that was gone too as Mikhail pieced the stones he’d displaced back in their places.

Mikhail led the way, his steps quick and light, forcing Kamar to match his stealth. As Kamar wondered if Mikhail learned to fight and move like a warrior in his days as a king, they reached their destination. He could tell when Mikhail whipped off his mask and stalked toward the soot-covered fireplace in the room.

“You go first,” Mikhail said, once he revealed a secret passage. Darker and heading down into unknown depths, Kamar waited for Mikhail to join him on the ladder. Together they moved through the dark, their steps on the ladder softly clanging in the thick silence.

Kamar’s ears ringed with anticipation all the way down.

When he reached the bottom, he stepped aside for Mikhail to make his own landing. Once grounded, Mikhail moved fast in the shadow.

“Don’t move yet,” Mikhail warned him.

Kamar felt him breeze by, and after a moment of shuffling in the darkness, a warm light dispelled the clinging dark. Mikhail lit more candles, snuffed out the match, and beckoned for Kamar to meet him.

Mikhail shrugged off his backpack, his hand reaching in to haul out the food they’d packed diligently before the long walk from Zhebair to Djanna.

Not realizing how hungry he was, Kamar peeled the wrapper off the sandwich and sunk his teeth in with a little moan. Mikhail watched him as he dug into his own sandwich.

In between mouthfuls, Kamar filled in the silence.

“So, where are we?” he asked.

Mikhail chewed leisurely, swallowed and said, “The king’s desert fortress. It’s a training ground for his elite soldiers. Also, it’s been in the royal family for years.”

Kamar looked around the room, recalling what little he’d seen on his way here, and tilted his head in question. “I didn’t see any soldiers.”

“That’s because I didn’t want them to see us,” Mikhail said, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want them to notice us.”

Kamar gulped, but for bravado’s sake he laughed. “Is that because you trained them yourself?”

“I trained with them, yes.”

At a loss for words, Kamar blinked, shook his head and took a larger bite of his sandwich. It became apparent to him, once more, how little he knew of Mikhail. Sometimes, moments like these, reminded him of how not too long ago Kamar had believed Mikhail was a simple merchant named Malik.

Now he was sneaking into a fortress with the former king of Djanna, a man who the Djannian media and the world still believed missing and likely dead. And they were infiltrating a foreign government building, together.

Finishing his sandwich and working up the nerve to speak again, Kamar said, “What’s the next plan?”

“We send word to my brother.” Mikhail popped the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, his tongue snaking out to lick his fingers free of the flavorful crumbs. Entranced, Kamar realized he was staring. He also noted Mikhail’s smile, and he scowled at him.

“King Idris knows you’re alive,” Kamar muttered, more to himself. He recalled Mikhail telling him of his fallout with his brother. Of how Idris discovered that Mikhail had plotted his own death, and how the new king turned his back on the old one.

Mikhail lapsed into silence, likely thinking about King Idris as well. The tension gripping his features spoke volumes. It also stirred Kamar’s empathy. He did know what it was like having a frustrating relationship with a relative.

“How will we send word?” Kamar asked, switching topics. “How will King Idris know we’re here, in Djanna, waiting to meet with him?”

Mikhail seemed relieved for the change of course in their discussion. “I thought you could deliver our message.”

Kamar frowned. “You’re serious?” And when Mikhail nodded, Kamar reminded him of the elite soldiers he’d trained with, the soldiers he imagined wouldn’t hesitate to cut down intruders. “I can’t go…out there.”

“I know this fortress well,” Mikhail said. “I have a way to get you out.”

Kamar wasn’t reassured. But he realized the second option was to give up and go home, and after all they went through to get here, Kamar’s legs ached from the fatigue. Nodding, he mumbled, “Fine. I’ll go and see King Idris.” And he wouldn’t worry about dying in the process. Or at least he’d try not to worry.

Mikhail’s expression softened, but it was his easy, radiant smile that gave Kamar pause. Kamar’s heart throbbed with desire, his mind framing the memory and storing it away safely.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

Kamar shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he honestly didn’t feel. “You’re welcome. Everyone has their part to play in this revolution. Now it’s my turn, that’s all.”