Page 29

"Tell us what's going on here," Airos says to Niah. "What are the Shimat?"

"The Shimat live within the body of the Uthur. They are water spirits, and our people have always relied on their guidance. Our migrations follow their movements. Where they live, water will flow. But they have changed. The shadows grow within them. Now they lead only to poison and death."

"But the well where you found us?"

"It remains pure, for now. But even the great oasis beneath the eastern star has become putrid, a place we have relied on for generations to provide in times when the desert is dry. Dark water. Thick as blood."

"How do we fit into this?" I ask. "Why are we Shalkek?"

Her eyes flash with excitement. "I have seen it. An outsider omega and his mate, pregnant with light, able to move with the Uthur and drenched with the water of our last sacred well. Shalkek. Chosen by the Great Fire." She nods. "It isyou."

This time, I'm able to keep my patience in check. "But the problem is?—"

"—Jackson and I are not mates," Airos finishes. "Like he said, we're barely even friends." He glances at me and I look away.Ah, shit. "The truth is, he and I are obligated to each other. We're on an urgent mission of our own."

"You seek to cleanse a great darkness," she says. "Our purposes are aligned."

Airos nods. "I don't know if we can help you. But I'm willing to try. Jackson?"

I don't need to think about it. These people need our help. "Yeah. One hundred percent."

To say I'm exhausted is an understatement. My endurance level is pretty damn high and I'm no stranger to sleep deprivation, but I don't know the last time I was this shattered. Azin walks ahead of us, humming and singing to himself. Airos is silent, and I know he's gotta be as tired as I am.

I know it's probably better for me to wait until the morning when I have more than a single brain cell operating to choose my words, but I just can't let it lie.

"Airos," I grunt. "What I said before about us not being friends and shit... I didn't mean it. I was just hangry. I needed to eat, you know? Sorry."

"Hangry..." Then the corner of his mouth curls into his usual easy smile. "I like this word." The man is good-looking. Can't deny that. Like a solid ten out of ten.

Shit. I'm delirious.

We've reached a group of small tents near the center of the encampment, but far enough from the fire pit that the sound of the still-ongoing celebrations is dulled to a low murmur. Azin lifts the fabric door of one of the tents and says something in his language, gesturing inside with his hand. Airos ducks his head to go inside.

"Goodnight," I tell him.

"Yes, goodnight," he says, looking back at me before disappearing inside.

I stand there waiting for Azin to show me to mine, but he just stares at me with the door flap still held open. He says something to me, nodding with his head and repeating the same gesture with his hand. My brain is moving like one of those kid's toys on the verge of running out of batteries, and it takes me a second to decide that I'm misunderstanding something here.

"One of those?" I ask, pointing to the other tents. "We go?"

He replies with a grunt, this time shaking his head and adamantly pointing into the tent.

"Seriously?"

Azin has a smile on his face, and if it weren't for our celebrity status here, I probably would've taken this as some kind of prank. But no, he's being polite. He expects us to share.

Alright. No problem.

I duck my head inside and see Airos in the process of stripping down to his skivvies. Or at least, that's what it looks like. He's seated in front of an oil lamp and he has his robe pulled down to his waist. His side and shoulder blade are streaked with thin scars, some of them overlapping each other like hashmarks. Ionly look for a second, but my impression is that they're old, and have been on his body for many years.

"Looks like we're both in here," I grumble.

There's not much inside. The floor is mostly bare sand, with just one section covered in a small spread of carpet, with a wool blanket and a couple of cushions.

"No beds?" I comment, sitting on the sand. "Weird."

He holds his shoulder and moves his arm in a slow circle, testing its mobility. "There is a bed."