bright its reflection was a wall of white gold beaming back into the sky.
Each glimpse lit my eyes afire. They watered, the tears trickling down my cracked cheeks.
The ledge’s surface chafed my palms and knees and burned my skin. I thought of Baba as I kept my head bent down and crawled. You were always the strong one, he’d told me on my last day at home. Like your mother. I couldn’t fail him.
I dragged myself toward the edge—toward that waterfall of sunlight. The sun was reaching its zenith, and the heat made my hands swell until they could barely fit into the spider-silk gloves. I yanked them over my fingers, ignoring the pain.
I wasn’t going to give up now. I wasn’t going to die here.
I closed my eyes. Gather the sunlight.
My heart hammered and my stomach churned with fear, but I ventured one last inch forward.
I reached into my pocket for my walnut and dug my nails into the seam to crack it open, but the gloves blunted my grasp, so I had to use my teeth.
I held the walnut out carefully.
Sunlight stroked my fingers. The shell grew heavy, hot. It trembled, shuddering as though the light within it were alive. Quickly, I shut the other half of the shell and shuffled backward. My foot wobbled off the ledge, and the sun hissed, greedily scalding my skin.
I screamed, but my throat was so dry that no sound came out. My eyes snapped open and a flash of white blinded me.
Little by little, I pulled myself up until I knelt on the ledge. Gasping. Panting.
All of me was blistered and raw. I just wanted to lie down—I had no energy for anything else.
No! You can’t give up now.
Was that my voice or Edan’s? I couldn’t tell. But it was enough to give me the strength to crawl off the ledge. Shielding my eyes, I slipped the walnut into my pocket and took the first step down the ladder.
One step. Then another. And another.
Mercifully, the path out of the labyrinth was straight and wide. When I could finally see the sand outside, I started to run, so fast I nearly slid out of the temple gate. My whole body ached like fire, but I let out a strangled, dry laugh.
Edan pulled me up and thrust his canteen to my lips. “I see the Temple of the Sun has left you half baked….” His voice faltered. Worry etched itself into his features. “You don’t look well, Maia.”
I drank greedily; then I got up slowly and dusted myself. “I’m fine. I did it.” I held out my walnut to him, but instead of taking it, he caught me in his arms.
“So you did,” he said, holding me upright with his good arm. “Well done.” He touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up.”
It hurt when he touched me; my skin was scorched and I was almost delirious.
Blisters swelled on my eyelids, and I winced when he covered my eyes with his hand.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
“I’m fine. It’s just bright.”
Without any warning, he picked me up, his chin touching my forehead, and carried me into the shade of the trees. The winds were strong, but he shielded me from the gusting sand.
I started to wrap my arms around him, but his eyes were yellow and bright like the sun…they frightened me. I struggled out of his hold and ran toward Milk before collapsing in the sand.
* * *
• • •
Edan was reading by the dim light of his lantern when I awoke. My movement startled Milk—and me. I was secured to the saddle, but now that I was awake and flailing, I lost my balance. She kneeled just before my legs tipped off her back onto the sand, and she blinked her large amber eyes at me. Then she licked my cheeks.
Edan made a tutting sound at Snowfoot and dismounted. “You’re awake.”
As he untied the ropes holding me to the saddle, I tried to stand. My body was stiff, the pain from the burns a dull throb. My face and arms were sticky, plastered with salve.
“You had heatstroke,” said Edan. “Try not to wipe it off or your burns will fester and become infected.”
Steadying me with his arm, he gave me a canteen. I took a long, long drink, suddenly thankful he had been managing our supplies so carefully.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Fine,” I replied tersely. “Hungry.”
“No wonder. You were asleep for nearly two days.”
“Two days!”
He passed