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I pull the door open into the corridor where avid smokers and the last ones in line to the bathroom usually make the space feel cramped, but the early hour of the morning has chased them away. A woman ducks out of the lavatory, and I take her place. Closing the door behind me, I let the water run from the tap as I take off my clothes. They must smell just as bad as the rest of the car, but I only have two shirts and a pair of trousers left and an entire week ahead of me.

Completely naked, and shivering in the cold, I splash water on my body in an attempt to wash away the smell and the grime.

A knock on the door startles me.

“Hurry up, will you?”

Another knock comes, and I rush to stick my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and tug my legs through the trousers. The fabric sticks to my skin, and any comfort I had drawn from cold water has vanished.

With my backpack over my shoulders again, I open the door and curse my luck. The same man who had pushed me as I got into the car all the way back in The Broken Sands stands in the corridor.

I scurry to leave the lavatory, but he bars my passage. “A girl in boy’s clothing. And without her brothers to protect her, it seems.”

The man steps closer, and I stumble back. It’s enough for him to gain what little space he needed to close the door.

This can’t be happening. Not again.

My heart thrumming in my chest, I wrack my brain for how to get out of this particularly sticky situation. I could scream and someone would come to my aid, but then everyone would see my eyes and know who I am.

I can’t allow it. Not when Inara’s and Damen’s lives are at stake.

As the man takes another step and my back hits the wall, my hand falls on the grip of my sword looped through my belt. His eyes spot it in an instant, and a wild grin shows on his lips. “A girl with a fight in her. I like that.”

I clutch my swords so hard my knuckles turn white. The metal unfurls enough to dig into the fabric of his shirt and push him back against the door.

“Take another step, and you’ll taste a bite of bound steel,” I say as the blade tears the fabric, rasping the skin and drawing blood. “Get out and let me finish in peace.”

The man curses, fumbling for the lock, but it’s my turn to press harder. “Sands, move or you’ll spend the rest of the trip with fewer fingers than you had when you boarded the train.”

The man is out of the door before I can take the next breath. He runs straight into Valdus, who’s leaning on the frame of the door.

“You even look in her direction again,” Valdus says in a flat voice. “And I’ll bring the whole wrath of the desert on you.”

“Who are you people?” the man says, stumbling back. “Rebel—“

Valdus interrupts him in a grumble so low I can barely catch the words. “Finish that thought, and I’ll kill you right here.”

The man dashes back into the car, and I slump against the wall, lifting my eyes to the ceiling where sun and sand filter inside through tiny holes in the corroded metal.

“Are you all right?” Valdus asks.

“How fitting that I stumble on the worst men of this empire on my way to and from The Shadow City.”

“You don’t need rescuing. Not any longer.”

“Then why are you here?”

Valdus pulls away from the door, and I see Numair guiding the man back to his seat with an arm slung over his shoulder in what looks as a friendly manner if it wasn’t for the man throwing terrified glances over his shoulder.

“I’m here to check on how you’re doing,” Valdus says.

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

I rub my brow where the scar is a reminder of the time where I was a defenseless girl, and I sigh. “Eager for all of this to be over.”

Valdus presses a tender kiss on my lips, and I can’t stop a giggle. “This must be the worst place to do this.”