They left early in the morning, well before the sun came up.

Ba’an had worn her coat of feathers under her long travel shift, the one all desert-dwellers wore whenever there was a possibility of walking under a hot midday sun. The sleeves were long, as were the hems, and the hood was deep with plenty of fabric. It was perfect for concealing her rather strange attire from her travelling companion.

She had not wanted to walk so far without strong magic within reach. There was no telling what kind of dangers the road would hold. Sometimes, everything went well and nothing happened. Other times, she had been grateful for her ability to simply fly away. Of course this time, she was travelling with Lukios. If there was trouble, she would have to fight. The coat would help with that too.

Ba’an took her walking stick from its place by the door and left. Lukios had already gone out to get firewood and was industriously stacking it up against the cliff wall beside the privy as usual.

“You will need a cloak.” Ba’an held out what had been a blanket. She didn’t actually own another cloak, and even if she did, it would not have fit him; she had done her best to turn it into something travel-worthy, but looking at the patchwork fabric and its uneven hems, she was not sure she had entirely succeeded.

Wordlessly, Lukios accepted it and slung it around his shoulders. His clothes were of good quality, and she’d sewn up the holes the best she could. Overall, he was likely better dressed for travel than she was. She handed him a thick bone pin, which he used to fasten the makeshift cloak over his shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and he disappeared into the not-vuti, only to come out with his sword strapped around his hip and his knife sheathed against the small of his back.

They each carried a waterskin—a large one—and enough food for two nights. They would make it to the road, but they would have to seek shelter during the hottest time of day. Ba’an knew the area well. There were plenty of shady areas in the valley and a Dolkoi’ri watering station along the road itself.

And with that, they were ready.

It was dark, though the moon and stars were bright.

The desert was cold before the sun came up. Ba’an was glad for her cloak and her sturdy shoes, which were doing an admirable job of keeping her toes warm. There was no keeping the sand out, though—it simply could not be helped.

Lukios was quiet, and she let him be.

The sun crept up, as did the heat. There was no path between Ba’an’s not-vuti and the road, but there were landmarks along the way. The land itself was mostly flat and full of sand, but it was broken up by plenty of jutting rocks and steep cliffs, so it was easy to find shelter from the sun.

It was lucky that the hottest season had already passed. They would only have to wait three hours or so for the heat to start dipping, which was a perfect number of hours for a snack and a nap.

They lay across from each other in the shade. Every time Ba’an started to doze, he would shift and she would rouse. It was annoying, but also somewhat concerning. Lukios was obviously a soldier. He could drop off to sleep immediately, and snap awake just as quickly. But now he was fidgeting, turning over restlessly with nervous energy.

“Lukios.” Ba’an didn’t open her eyes, but she heard him freeze.

“Sorry.”

She turned her head to the side so she could look at him. She wasn’t surprised to find he was already looking at her. “A few hours here and there will change nothing.”

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the jagged red cliff face. “I know.”

They listened to the wind whistling between the rocky cliffs that scattered the area. The Dolkoi’ri called this place the Red Maze; the local tribe referred to it as ‘that place with the rocks.’ Sometimes travellers got lost and turned around. Most of them died. The wind blew dust and sand around until the landscape seemed to shift as one walked, but Ba’an was wise enough to the desert’s tricks to find her way and besides that—the worst-case scenario was that she would have to fly to get her bearings. This would be tricky to manage discreetly with her travelling companion, but she was sure she could tell him to keep watch while she relieved herself. Surely he would not attempt to spy on her then?

“Ba’an.”

“Mm?”

“How long has it been?”

She paused, thinking. It had been the end of the dry-heat season when she had found him. There had been five moon cycles since then. In the Dolkoi’ri way of reckoning that was…

“Four of your months, I think. A little more, maybe.”

He laughed softly. “They’re everyone’s months, Ba’an, we just count differently.” She rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see it. By now he knew her well enough to guess what she was doing. They lapsed back into silence.

“You will be tired later if you do not sleep.”

“Yeah.”

Ba’an dozed and listened to him not sleep.

----------------------------------------

Nothing happened on their way to the road. A bold desert fox crossed their path, ignoring them for some lizard it was stalking across the hot dunes.

It turned out Ba’an had been right. The road had been cleared already, though time had not worn away the blood stains. That had seeped into the cracks in the flat stones that often made up rural Dolkoi’ri roads, the grooves forever stained by violence. She could still see where the horse he had killed had been laying on its side, the ground a dull reddish-brown beneath the dirt and grime.

Lukios stood at the side of the road, staring at the old echoes of carnage told in rust-red splotches.

She could tell by his face he needed to be alone. She laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I will wait by the watering station.” Before she could step away, he put his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together. Ba’an blinked, eyes falling to their joined hands. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture.

“Can you stay?” Ba’an raised her head to stare at his profile. He did not turn to look at her, but his fingers squeezed hers lightly. “You don’t have to. But…I’d like you to.”

“Very well.” He squeezed her fingers again, rubbing his thumb lightly over hers before pulling away.

“Thank you.”

He sat. She did too, careful not to touch him. She could feel tension in the way he held himself, and she was close enough to feel the heat of him radiate through her cloak and coat.

He was silent for a long time.

“Ba’an,” he said, finally. She looked at him. He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “Why did you save me?”

Well, that was a difficult question.

After a long moment, she opened her mouth with an answer. “It was not K’Avaari.”

“What?”

“K’Avaari did not do this.” She gestured to the old bloodstains that stretched from down the road all the way up to where they were seated. A great many horses and men had died together that day.

Understanding dawned in his eyes.

“I’ll tell them,” he promised, and she found herself believing him.

He turned his head to stare at the road again.

“They already know, though.”

She looked at him, letting her puzzlement show on her face.

“I’m sure there was a ransom demand by now. It will have been sent through a third party, but I have my suspicions. It’s not even about money. I guarantee it.” Ah. The missing woman.

“So she is a very important person, then?” He looked at her again.

“Yes and no.” Well, that was not a very useful answer. He scuffed the dirt with his foot, and she could see he was deciding how much to tell her. “This was a marriage procession,” he said, finally. “She was the bride-to-be. We were escorting her when we were ambushed.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “She is important, but…it’s the alliance that was key. Between the groom’s family and hers, I mean.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I fucked up real good. I…really…just…fuck.” He took a long, shuddering breath.

There was more to it, she could tell—but it wasn’t her place to pry. Tentatively, she took his hand in hers. He seemed to find it comforting. He squeezed her fingers, clutching a bit too hard, though she didn’t pull away.

“You did your best, Lukios.” It was strange and a little alarming to see him without his usual good cheer. His mouth, which was most often set in a small smile even when there was no one to smile at, was turned downwards into a frown.

He started shaking his head. “No. No, I did not. Ba’an, I did not do my best, or even my second best.” She frowned.

“But I saw you fighting,” she said, and he turned to look at her sharply.

“You did?”

“Yes. By yourself. Everyone was dead but you kept fighting.” He shut his eyes.

“Ba’an, that doesn’t mean anything. What else was I supposed to do? And…I didn’t know. I didn’t know everyone was dead until I was done fighting and it was too late for anything else.”

She remembered him crawling to the man with dark hair, how he had tried to shake him awake. “Useless,” he muttered, and the bleakness in his expression made her insides twist uncomfortably.

“No,” she said, “Not useless.” He was shaking his head again.

“No,” he denied, “You don’t understand. Ba’an, I was sleeping. I was hung-over, so I was sleeping in the fucking carriage.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

----------------------------------------

The sun was starting to sink. Ba’an sat at the watering station by herself, building what must have been the smallest campfire in all the desert, if not all the continent. The watering station was really just a flat patch of dirt beside the road with a well dug into the ground.

It was Dolkoi’ri-style, with blocks of stone protruding from the base and a little roof against the weather. There was a tight-fitting wooden lid against the same and everything else. Resting inside a wooden box beside the well was a bucket with a string attached. Miraculously, no one had stolen it, though Ba’an suspected this bucket was newer than the well. A fire pit had been built close by.

The area was large, meant for travellers and merchant caravans alike. The location had likely been chosen for its distance from the nearest settlement as well as its proximity to the tough, fast-growing sagi grass that could be used to feed beasts of burden.

Lukios was nowhere in sight.

She sighed. Lukios had scrubbed his hands over his face after his announcement and stalked off without a word. Stopping him had seemed a poor idea—a man had his pride, which was a fact of life that did not change whether the man was Dolkoi’ri or K’Avaari. So Ba’an had done the practical thing and come to the watering station to set up camp.

She hadn’t brought any pots, so it was cold rations only. Too bad.

Dinner was lizard jerky and a handful of nuts and dried berries. Boring, and not that filling. She needed a mouthful of water with every bite to help bring it all down, but at least the water was cold and fresh. Ba’an did not like drinking lukewarm water, especially when it smelled and tasted like a waterskin.

Ba’an had been contemplating doing one pass—just one, mind, just one—as a flock of crows over this stretch of road to ensure he hadn’t tilted himself down a cliff when she felt his bright, familiar soul making its way to her fire. Ba’an did not turn or otherwise react, though she noted appreciatively that Lukios’ steps became rather noisy as he approached the watering hole. How mannerly—he was normally very light-footed.

“Lukios.”

“Ba’an.” Lukios stepped into the small circle of light cast by the fire. In his hand was a rabbit, already skinned and ready for the fire.

“How…?” He lifted his other hand, where a strip of twisted cloth dangled. It was a piece from the blanket. A sling. Well, that was rather unexpected. It wasn’t a very good sling, so he must have been a remarkably good shot to compensate.

He dropped the weapon and squatted near the fire, picking up a suitably large flat rock. He wiped it with the corner of his makeshift cloak and placed the rabbit on top, then popped the whole thing into the flames.

“Hold out your hands.” He obeyed, and Ba’an poured water from her skin over them so he could wash the blood off.

“I’m sorry.” He pushed his hair out of his face. It had gotten rather long. “I shouldn’t have just left like that.”

“Very well.” She accepted it easily. It wasn’t as though she was upset that he’d stalked off to—she suspected strongly—cry out his misery. She understood pride. She had only been slightly concerned he would do something stupid, like walk off a cliff.

Ba’an would never say it out loud, but it was a feeling she could sympathize with: crushing failure, despair, and a desire to simply splatter against the hard, unyielding ground.

“…I’d feel better if you were madder.”

She gave him a look. “Why would I be angry?”

He looked down and away, right into the fire. You will ruin your night vision like that. She erred on the side of caution and said nothing.

“I was awful. I just…left you there. It’s rude. Ungrateful. Just…ugh. I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said, and he glanced up at her, finally. “You feel bad about that, yes. But not only that. You want someone to yell and hurt you. I will not.”

He winced. “Ba’an. Did you know that sometimes, the things you say are a bit…”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” He picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “You’re not wrong.”

For a while there was only the crackling of the fire. The smell of rabbit meat made her hungry all over again. Lukios used his stick to turn the rabbit over, making it sizzle anew.

“It was my half-brother.” Lukios was still staring into the fire, focusing very hard on making the rabbit cook in a perfectly even way. “The groom, I mean. We were negotiating on his behalf with his bride’s family.”

Ba’an remained silent, letting him speak at his own pace.

“We celebrated once the papers were signed. You know, feasting. Not with my half-brother, he wasn’t there—well. I mean, it’s traditional, celebrating a marriage agreement. I got drunk. Very, very drunk.” He made a soft noise of self-deprecation. “I was supposed to be the vanguard, but I was too hung-over to ride. So I rode in the carriage and my…uncle took my place. Well, we were both supposed to be up front, but he—he was alone.”

Ba’an remembered his look of grief. Rekos, he’d said. Now she knew who that had been. He turned the rabbit over again, then poked it with the stick. It must have been satisfactory, because he started prodding the rock from the fire. “I was sleeping when we were hit.”

He swore, very softly. “It should have been me with an arrow through my neck. Not Rekos.” He finally looked up from the fire. His eyes gleamed in the firelight like a cliff-cat’s, but his expression was all too human.

“So there you have it. A good man died in place of a stupid one, and the stupid one lived, for no better reason than sheer, dumb luck. We’re a barrel full of bad apples, Ba’an, and Rekos was the only good one. And now he’s dead, along with the entire escort party, and I’m sitting here wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. Because there’s no fixing this. Rekos is dead, Eirene’s gone, and I’m sitting here on my ass, completely useless.”

Lukios drew his knife and started to cut the meat into strips. Once he was done, he pushed the warm rock toward her.

“Half,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. And I can hear your stomach from here.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. Ba’an was ravenous again. Even so…

“Hungry or not, eat. Tomorrow we will walk back.” He gave her a look, then skewered a single strip on his stick pushed the rest to her.

“You know Ba’an,” he said, once she finally took the meat. “I’m grateful. But…you should have saved someone else. Anyone else. Or—fuck—gone after Eirene.”

Ba’an chewed thoughtfully on her piece of rabbit. It was delicious, though it hadn’t been seasoned in any way. She wondered what it would taste like if she had slathered it in red berry jam and cooked it that way. Perhaps she would try it once she got back.

She looked at Lukios again, who was sitting silently and watching her eat.

“No,” she said, finally. He snorted.

“Anyone from that escort would have testified truthfully, Ba’an. And they weren’t fuck-ups, either.” He tilted his head back to stare up at the stars. “Theoi.”

“No,” she said again, and he sighed. “I would have let them die.”

That got his attention.

“What? That doesn’t even make sense. Why would you let a witness die?”

She popped another piece of meat into her mouth and chewed, thinking about how to explain it. By the time she swallowed she had marshalled her thoughts.

“I told you half of it. Yes, I wanted you to tell them, ‘No, not K’Avaari.’ But K’Avaari holds are hidden. Your people can blame them or get angry, but what will they do? March again? Into the desert? No. Perhaps trading will become hard. But nothing big. Nothing like the Dolkoi’ri-anta will happen because of this.” The Dolkoi’ri had marched against the K’Avaari five years ago.

They had lost.

Ba’an had made sure of it.

Lukios stared at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. She continued.

“The other half is…rei-tat.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what that word means.”

“Yes, I know. Just…hmm. It is like…spirit. But not just spirit. Soul-fire? No.” Ba’an muttered to herself, struggling to explain wholly K’Avaari ideas in Dolkoi’ri. Frustration twisted her tongue so the words came out wrong.

“Like…” She scooted over to him so quickly that she nearly tipped over. He reached out and steadied her, hands on her shoulders. She put her palm over his heart and he stared down at where her hand touched him. “Fire in here. Rei-tat.”

“…Passion?”

“No. Rei-tat. Not passion. Passion is short. Shallow. This is different. Not feelings. Maybe…soul texture? Those who are rei-tat make history. Change fate.” And Ba’an had been a witch. She never let a tool go to waste, and old habits died hard. Witches always watched over those who were rei-tat—either to control them or kill them, as needed.

Ba’an did not think that particular detail was one he needed to know.

“…So, this is a compliment, right?”

“Yes and no.” Ba’an frowned. “Sometimes, the ending is bad. Hard to say. People who are rei-tat are very bright. Burn hot. Sometimes too hot.”

He gave her a sideways look. “Oh, that’s great then. I might burn myself up in my own stupidity. Sounds exactly like me.” She scowled and smacked her palm against his chest.

“Ow,” he said in a perfectly blasé tone, “my heart.”

Ba’an clicked her tongue at him. “I could be wrong. You might just be stupid but lucky.” He burst out laughing.

“There you go. Back to normal. I was getting nervous for a second there.” His heart was beating a bit fast under her palm, and Ba’an frowned.

“Are you sick now?”

“What? No. I’m fine.” His hands were still on her shoulders, and she watched as his eyes flicked over her face and fixed on her mouth. Ba’an blinked up at him. He raised one hand and wiped her bottom lip with his thumb. Ba’an could feel the callus there drag across her skin.

Flushing, she broke away and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Rabbit grease. How embarrassing. She probably had pieces stuck in her teeth. Wonderful.

“So,” she finished, “I was going to let you die. I changed my mind.” She shrugged her shoulders, back at her spot by the fire. “No rei-tat, no help.”

“Huh,” he said. “That’s cold. But somehow very you.”

“It is what it is. Outlanders kill each other everyday.” She gave him a pointed look. “I cannot save you all. I do not want to.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. We’re a violent bunch. Lots of backstabbing, too. I can’t fault you.”

She finished the last of her rabbit, then used a twig to clean her teeth before lying down to sleep. She wanted a bath. There was sand everywhere.

Lukios ate some of his rations and sat with his back to the well. “I’ll take first watch.” This was wise, because one never knew when someone or something would think they made good pickings.

“Very well. Wake me up when it is my turn.”

“Sleep well, Ba’an.”

“Goodnight.”

----------------------------------------

“Why did you not wake me?” Ba’an huffed at Lukios angrily as she stomped her way back through the Red Maze.

“Well…you were sleeping really soundly. Seemed a shame to wake you.” He cracked another yawn.

“But now you are sleepy! What if there are bandits? You will be stabbed many times!”

“There won’t be any bandits in the Red Maze, Ba’an. Nobody’s that stupid. I can nap when we stop.” He yawned again.

“You said you would wake me!”

“No, I said ‘Sleep well, Ba’an.’”

“So you did not plan to wake me at all! Liar!”

“Well, you were sleeping soundly. It really would have been a shame to wake you.”

“Argh!”

He didn’t look repentant at all. Lukios cracked out another yawn, looking far too relaxed for someone who hadn’t slept all night.

Surprisingly, they were making good time. Ba’an was glad they were moving fast, and even gladder that the trip was boring and unexciting. Exciting usually meant bandits or rabid wildlife.

No, thank you.

Once they reached the camping spot in the canyon, Lukios lay down without a word and fell asleep. It was instant.

Idiot.

He had been right, though. The Red Maze had claimed more lives than most people could count, and even Dolkoi’ri bandits were not that stupid. As for K’Avaari, they had no reason to raid two travellers wandering by on foot. If anything, they would feel compelled to fish them out of a sand trap—provided they hadn’t recognized her. Otherwise, they would pass by as silently as shadows, with nary a whisper to mark their passage.

Lukios was snoring. It was not a loud snore—just a sort of light, occasional snuffling that would have normally been relieved by the right sort of pillow. He had not bothered putting anything on the ground for his head.

Idiot.

He would wake up with a terrible crick in his neck. The ground was very hard and unforgiving.

Ba’an inched over. His hair had grown out, and now it really did look like a lion’s mane—shaggy, and getting a little ragged. His lashes were unfairly long, and from this distance she could see the light freckles dusting over his nose and cheekbones beneath his tan. Normally, they were invisible.

He shifted, and the snore intensified.

Her waterskin was mostly full. Even so, when she pressed her fingers against the body of it, there was a pleasing amount of give.

She tried sneaking it under his head.

No luck.

For one thing, his head was too heavy to shift. It figured—a blockhead was a blockhead. She tried lifting his head with both hands so she could slide the skin underneath with her knees, but that didn’t work, either—she only managed to lose her balance and flop onto her side so she was curled around his head.

Lukios shifted, and Ba’an froze.

If he woke up now she would die of embarrassment. She would die.

He didn’t wake up. Slowly, she sat up. This was not worth it. It was not—

“If you wanted to sleep with me,” he said, very, very sweetly, “you should have just said so.”

She jumped.

The little stit-tat!

Lukios’ eyes were open, and he was looking up at her with a grin. He clearly thought he was being funny.

“I do not.” She gave a delicate, dignified sniff. “You were snoring. It was very annoying.”

“Oh. Sorry.” His grin dropped. “Did I keep you up?”

“Yes. Lift your head, Lukios. It is too heavy for me.” He obliged and she slid her waterskin under his neck and head. “You must use a pillow, Lukios. You will injure your neck and spine if you do not.”

“Um, thanks. Hey, what are you going to use?” He reached over and grabbed his own skin. “I guess you can use mine then?”

Well, now that she thought about it, she had been rather silly. She could have just used his skin and saved hers for herself. What had she been thinking?

Ba’an stifled a sigh. “I…yes, I will. Thank you.” She took it. Why not?

She went back to her side of the shade and lay down.

“Sleep well, Ba’an. I’ll try not to snore.”

“Sleep, Lukios. You will be too tired if you do not.”

He laughed softly. “Whatever you say, Ba’an.” As usual, he dropped off immediately.

Ba’an listened to his steady breathing. He did not snore again.

The wind blew between the rocks, an eerie whistling hum that sounded nearly human.

Ba’an lay beneath the shade and listened. Eventually, she fell asleep.