other side of the carriage. “I cannot.”
“Yes, you can. And nobody will know or care. Arigu’s gone. Eldra’s gone.”
“I will know. I will care.”
She knelt on the carriage floor, her arms over his legs, hands clasped as if in prayer. “This could be the last day we ever spend together. If that were so, wouldn’t you want to hold me?”
He ran a hand through her hair, a different look on his face now: the look of a Rider just come in from the hunt. “Of course I would. But this is not our last day.”
She ran her hands up his chest and kissed the front of his shirt. Hard muscle lay beneath her fingers. Strength, but trembling, even so. “Please, Banreh,” she said, rising up on her knees, touching the back of his neck with her hand. He exhaled, a shaky, breathy noise, and she knew she had him then. He pulled her in with his strong arms and pressed his lips against hers.
She held to him, skin against skin. His chest firm, his neck soft, his cheeks rough. His lips fell over her arms and face; his fingers pulled at the lacings of her shirt. This was as it should have been. They should have made a plainschild.
“Lie with me, Banreh,” she whispered in his ear.
He slowed his kisses. His hands let go of her laces and went still. “No,” he said. He pushed her back and leaned against the side of the carriage, away from her.
“No?” She threw her arms around him and kissed his face. “Why not, Banreh?” His soft hair tickled her cheek.
“Mesema, you know why not. Stop. Stop!” He pushed her away and before she could say anything else, he hit the roof of the box with his fist, requesting a halt. He opened the door while the carriage was still moving.
“Banreh, what are you doing? Don’t leave me!”
He jumped down into the sand. It hurt his leg, she knew, even though he didn’t show it. He pushed the door shut and limped away from her. He would ride, then, with the other men. She would be alone. The carriage moved forwards, uncaring.
Mesema wiped at a tear. Banreh couldn’t go against her father’s wishes, not even for love, not even if this were the last day of his life. She hated him. He was no more than a thrall, and Eldra had been braver. She reached in her pocket for the blue feather, her reminder of Eldra’s wish. She rubbed the feather against her cheek, wondering if she’d live to fulfil her promise. The not-knowing felt like torture. She wished she could jump out of the carriage like Banreh, run to the palace and the emperor, find out for certain.
At last Mesema pulled herself together. She sat up and settled on the bench. It was no use feeling sorry for herself; she would wait with dignity, like a woman. She sat with her own thoughts through the dark night, until the sun rose and the caravan came to a halt. When she climbed out of the carriage that morning, she held her back straight and her head high. Marry or die, she would do it like a princess.
Chapter Eighteen
"A caravan.” Eyul studied the parallel tracks in the sand. “We’re close to the buried city,” Amalya said. “Horses, twenty or thirty of them, and a carriage.” Military, without a question. Whether they were White Hats or Blue Shields, Beyon’s Imperial Guard, he could not tell.
“Too close.”
He looked at her now. She was shivering, her hand clutching the pommel. “Then we will go wide around them.”
Eyul mounted his camel and steered it westwards, away from the road. The Scorpion looked down upon his back, while the Maid pointed to the palace with one starry finger. They steered their camels in and out of shadow, the dunes guarding their path.
“Do you think it is safe to sleep without your Knife?” Amalya asked after a time.
They passed between the dunes in silence. Eyul closed his eyes and felt the weight of the weapon at his side. “I will sleep with my Knife, then.”
“You are the emperor’s Knife, the Knife of Heaven,” she said. “Your weapon is the holy connection between you and Beyon.”
“Beyon would not care for there to be a connection between us,” he said.
“Why do you say that?”
Did the Tower really know so little of the palace? “Because I cut the throats of his five brothers. The eldest had reached ten years of age. The youngest was