JAVAN WOKE IN the predawn darkness of the infirmary the morning after facing the sand demon, his body throbbing with pain. The monster had torn into his back and raked his stomach open. Every breath hurt, every movement was fire running through his veins.
But worse was the crushing knowledge that he’d failed.
His bargain with Sajda, his allies, and his strategy were worth nothing in the face of the warden’s alliance with Fariq and the impostor. Yes, Javan had survived. But he’d gained no points; the warden was bent on killing him, even if it meant killing everyone else in the tournament; and the impostor now knew that Javan was still alive.
Still a threat.
How long before he came for Javan?
And how could Javan stop him? He couldn’t defeat the warden, the crown, and his fellow prisoners combined. At the moment, he couldn’t even get out of bed.
Darkness bloomed in his chest, heavy and absolute, and he closed his eyes.
Where was Yl’ Haliq in all of this? Where was the steady presence that had comforted and guided Javan for so many years? Didn’t he see the prince, abandoned and surrounded by enemies?
Tears pricked his eyelids, and he blinked rapidly.
Something rustled to his left, and he whipped his head in that direction, half expecting to see Hashim rising from his bed, but the man had been hurt worse than Javan, and he wasn’t moving. Instead, Javan locked eyes with Sajda, who sat beside the doorway, her back against the cold stone wall.
She rose in one fluid motion and came to his side. For a long moment they stared at each other, and Javan couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Finally, she reached past him to a shelf above his cot and grabbed a small bowl and a cup of water. Scooping up a spoonful of yellow-gold powder, she dumped it into the water, stirred briskly, and then sat beside him on the cot.
“Drink this,” she said.
He stifled a groan as he struggled to get into an upright position. She placed the cup on the floor, wrapped her arms beneath his, and lifted. In seconds, his pillow was between his back and the wall, and she was handing him the cup again.
“Turmeric powder,” she said. “It will help the pain.”
He took an experimental sip, and then quickly downed the rest of the spicy drink. Maybe it would help dull the pain of his wounds. He wished there was something that would dull the rest of his pain as well.
She watched him carefully, and he scrambled for something to say. It wasn’t her fault their plan wasn’t going to work. She was caught up in all of it because she’d been loyal to Tarek. He prayed that loyalty didn’t get her killed.
“You should leave,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid waking the other prisoners.
Her brow rose. “No ‘thanks for giving me some medicine, Sajda’? Or ‘thanks for spending the night in a doorway so that no one tried to kill me, Sajda’?”
“You spent the night here?” His voice rose. “Why would you do that?”
Hurt flashed across her face, so fast he almost missed it. “So that no one would try to kill you when you couldn’t defend yourself.”
He closed his eyes and tried to push the darkness inside him away. Tried to find the thread of hope he’d been holding on to for weeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this at all. You shouldn’t be here watching over me. You shouldn’t try to help me with the next combat round. In fact, you need to stay as far away from me as possible.”
Her eyes flashed. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not.” He drew in a deep breath, striving for calm. Maybe he couldn’t protect himself, but he could protect her. “You’re right. I don’t tell you what to do. So I’m asking you. Please. Get away from me before my enemies decide to punish you for helping me.”
She glared. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty much all you’ve got. The warden just tried to kill everyone so she could get to you. Hashim might be too injured from the sand demon to hurt you at the moment, but that will change. And that boy in the royal box yesterday seemed very angry when the sand demon died. I don’t think he wants you alive either.”
“No, he doesn’t. They all want me dead, and they’re going to succeed, Sajda.” He leaned forward, wincing at the pain that shot across his wounded stomach, his voice shaking. She had to listen. “They’re going to succeed because they have all the power; and when they do, they’re going to take down anyone close to me. I can’t be responsible for your death. I can’t. I might not be able to do anything else right, but let me at least do this.”
She fell silent, and he stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving with every breath, his composure fraying as he waited to see if she would do the one thing that would save her.
The one thing that would finish ruining him.
Then she straightened, throwing her shoulders back and raising her chin. There was fire in her eyes, and the runes on her cuffs glowed in the dim gray of the room. Leaning forward, she put a hand on his chest, and licks of heat spread from her skin to his. With one gentle push, he was back against the pillow, her face a few breaths from his.
“I’m not your slave,” she said. “I don’t take your orders.”
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. “Sajda, no. I never said . . . That’s not how I see you.”
The heat from her palm raced along his chest, a thrill of lightning that sent his heart racing. “I know that. This isn’t about how you see me. It’s about how I see myself.” She leaned closer, until he was drowning in the dark blue of her eyes. “I might wear the warden’s cuffs, but I make my own choices. And I choose to help you.”
He closed his eyes against the wave of pain and hope that threatened to undo him. “I’ve already lost everything, Sajda. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“Then you shouldn’t have insisted on being my friend.” Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and he opened his eyes to see fierce compassion on her face. “I don’t turn my back on my friends.”
“The warden will try to kill me again. So will the impostor and my uncle. Hashim—”
“When have you ever been afraid of a challenge?” She leaned back and pinned him with the look she usually gave him before they sparred.
“I’m afraid of this one,” he said quietly.
“And that means you give up? You walk away and stop fighting? You give them what they want?”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away. “I’m not giving up. I’m acknowledging that the odds are stacked heavily against me. I was so sure I could fix this. So sure that my destiny was to rule Akram, and that Yl’ Haliq would deliver me from this so that I could make things right. But he hasn’t. Things just keep getting worse.”
“So you fight harder. You fight smarter. And you don’t tell your best ally to leave you alone.”
“I don’t know how to win,” he admitted, forcing himself to look at her. “I don’t know how to fight all three threats at the same time.”
She smiled, and his pulse beat faster. “Hashim is badly injured. And sadly it looks like he is getting an infection from his wound. A shame so much dirt got in there after it was already bandaged.”
He blinked. “Did you—”
“I doubt he’ll be well enough to do anything to you for a week or more. And the warden has a scandal on her hands, as does the crown.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile grew. “Oh, just a few well-placed observations and speculations with the right aristocrats during Exhibition Day. By now, the entire city should be on fire with rumors about the new competitor who looks so much like a Kadar. Many of the prominent families already hate what Fariq has done to the city and are just looking for an excuse to turn on him.”
“And you made sure to give them what they needed.”
“Like I said, I make my own choices. Now you choose to get better and keep fighting.”
He leaned toward her, ignoring the burn of agony in his body, and wrapped his arms around her as the faint whisper of hope within him flickered into a flame. “Thank you for staying with me.”
She stiffened at first, and then slowly melted into his embrace. Her body was warm, her breath tickled his neck, and the darkness that had opened up within him shrank a little before the unrelenting demands of her faith in him.