Page 36 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)
I was invited to witness the Sand Trials. An honour, as outsiders are rarely permitted to observe such a significant event in the Desert Kingdom. But I’ve been friends with its people my entire life.
I’m beyond excited. I’ve heard the trials are both thrilling and terrifying. Dunayans compete for leadership through a series of gruelling challenges that can take weeks to complete. To me, it’s the perfect excuse to celebrate, and for the different tribes to come together.
Tabitha Wysteria
There was one thing Alina was quite certain of: she would never grow used to the peculiar cuisines of foreign lands.
Phoenixians, for instance, seemed to delight in elaborate dishes, most of them dry-cured meats spiced beyond recognition.
And yet, even that was preferable to the desert delicacies Hessa adored—odd-looking insects soaked in fragrant spices and left to dry under the relentless sun.
‘Pure protein,’ Hessa had said with a proud smile. ‘One acquires the taste.’
Alina remained unconvinced. She was quite sure the desert folk must have teeth in their stomachs to stomach such things.
It was strange, she thought, how grief so often took the shape of food.
Of all the things she could miss from her homeland, it was the honey-coated pears that haunted her most. Succulent and sticky-sweet, they lingered in memory like ghosts, their syrupy touch still clinging to her lips in dreams. It seemed foolish to cry over fruit, and yet, the ache in her chest at the thought of never tasting them again threatened to unravel her.
If anyone knew how much her heart ached for something as simple as a pear… they would surely think her mad.
But loss made poets of them all. She had heard Hessa, more than once, speak longingly of her homeland, of spiced wind and star-kissed dunes, of the cool silence just before dawn. Even those who wore their strength like armour still bled inside for the things they had left behind.
As they sat beneath the stars for supper, Mareena had arranged for a charming space in one of the palace courtyards.
A tranquil haven enclosed by tall palm trees and a floor split by a thin river, where shimmering fish darted like liquid gems. Servants had laid out dishes like a painted tapestry of flavours, but Alina scarcely noticed.
‘Do you think your parents will go to war?’ she asked softly, tearing a piece of flatbread in her lap.
Mareena took her time, mulling the question over with care.
‘I cannot say for certain,’ she replied at last, her voice gentle but distant.
‘The death of my brother will be... devastating. But phoenixians have never been quick to take up arms. We are not a people eager for war, and I do not know if my father will act in haste.’
The unspoken truth lay heavy between them: we are no longer bound to the drakonians.
For centuries, phoenixians and drakonians had marched as one.
Brothers in battle, the sun and the flame, united when it mattered.
Still, there had always been a quiet sense of superiority from the phoenixian court, cloaked in their reverence for wisdom and scholarship.
They had called the drakonians soldiers with swords but no thought, warriors bred for obedience, not strategy.
And yet, when war called, they had always answered together.
Alina looked down at her plate, the food suddenly too rich in her mouth.
‘My land…’ she began, and her voice trembled as she spoke. ‘I need an army to fight the witches. The drakonians left behind cannot do it alone.’
Mareena met her gaze for a moment before turning her face away. ‘And I’m sure,’ she said carefully, ‘that when the time comes, my father will offer you one.’
But Alina heard the hesitation in Mareena’s voice. She saw the truth behind those eyes. The words Mareena hadn’t spoken. The truth that lingered in the hearts of everyone now.
No one was coming.
The Kingdom of Fire was reaping what it had once so mercilessly sown.
It had been the drakonians who had ignited the flames of the Great War, soaring into the lands of the witches upon the backs of dragons, raining fire upon their cities and turning their homes to ash.
They had forced the other kingdoms into complicity, either to take up arms alongside them or to look the other way.
Now, the rest of the world was returning the favour in kind.
‘They killed your brother,’ Alina said through clenched teeth, the memory still burning behind her eyes. ‘Do you not crave vengeance?’
Mareena sighed, her expression one of weary sorrow. ‘Of course I do. But to go to war is to begin the cycle anew. Death begets death. They killed our brothers, so we kill theirs… and they will come again to take ours. And so it continues, endlessly, until the world is nothing but blood and ruin. ’
Alina recoiled, stunned by her words. ‘So your solution is what?’ she snapped. ‘That I surrender my kingdom because my ancestors once burnt theirs?’
‘I’m not saying we’ll let this go unchecked,’ Mareena replied carefully. ‘We will find a way to end this… problem.’
‘Massacre,’ Alina corrected, her voice low with fury. ‘They slaughtered my entire family. I watched your brother die, cut down before me by the very ones you now hesitate to fight.’
Mareena’s crimson eyes widened. ‘I am not protecting them, Alina,’ she said quickly. ‘You misunderstand. But we must not let them drag us into war on their terms. That is what they want. They seek retribution for what was done to them, and they want us to strike the match.’
But Alina could not bear to listen a moment longer.
She pushed herself up from the floor, her movements slow but burning with purpose, the quiet brush of fabric against stone the only sound in the stillness.
Hessa’s gentle touch found her arm, a silent attempt to soothe her, to reason with her.
But there could be no reason, not now. Not with fire boiling in her veins.
‘I want revenge,’ Alina hissed, her voice fierce and trembling. ‘And I will have it, with an army… or alone.’
She turned without bidding them farewell, her back straight and her footsteps swift as she left the courtyard and the princesses behind.
There was no more time for discussion. No more time for waiting.
Her next path was clear.
The Desert Kingdom awaited.
…
‘Do you not regret saying goodbye? You might never see her again,’ Hessa asked softly after they had ridden together atop one of the great desert serpents, their scaled bodies gliding effortlessly over the golden dunes.
They had stopped at last to rest the following day, the hours of relentless travel behind them.
Conversation during the ride was impossible, the wind too fierce, the speed too unforgiving.
‘Do you agree with her?’ Alina asked once they had begun setting up camp, preparing food and readying themselves for the long stretch ahead. The journey to the Desert Kingdom would take nearly a week.
‘I understand her logic, amira,’ Hessa replied with a measured shrug, catching the sharpness in Alina’s tawny gaze. ‘But that does not mean she is right. One may comprehend what drives the witches… but that does not mean we must yield to it.’
Alina stood from where she’d been crouched, helping to thread sun-dried scorpions onto skewers. The scent of spice and heat hung thick in the air. ‘I need a moment.’
‘Alina, wait. You cannot walk off into the sands alone. We are no longer on the desert’s edge. There are ghulas.’
‘Ghulas?’
‘Ghosts of the desert. Souls lost to the sands. They drift between the dunes, whispering lies and playing tricks upon the mind until you follow them to your death, so that they may not be so lonely.’
Alina arched a brow. ‘I’ll be a minute. I’ll stay within your line of sight, Hessa. Don’t fret.’ She turned away, ignoring the tightening of Hessa’s jaw, the words caught behind her teeth.
Alina walked, the sun scorching the top of her head, the weight of the heat pressing down on her like an invisible hand.
Each step grew more arduous, the sand swallowing her feet, pulling her down as if the desert itself wished to consume her.
Hessa had warned her not to lift her steps, but to drag them forward in a slow, gliding rhythm.
At the time it had seemed absurd. How could walking be deadly? Now she understood.
Alina halted once she had drifted far enough to taste solitude, but not so far that she couldn’t feel Hessa’s eyes watching from the camp. She dropped to her knees, then sat heavily in the sand, her hands curling into fists against the blistering grains.
No matter which direction she turned, all she could see were dunes, wave after wave of golden hills rolling endlessly to the horizon. The hard-baked lands of the phoenixians had vanished behind her, swallowed by the desert. Here, there was nothing. Only silence. Only sand.
Closing her eyes, Alina conjured the image of her brother as he had once been in the sun-drenched courtyards of their ancestral castle, sweat glistening along his brow after hours of training with his men.
Loyal Red Guard had stood vigil around the perimeter, poised and watchful, safeguarding their prince.
The very same guards who would later turn traitor, their blades stained with royal blood as they cut down all within those sacred halls.
Ash spun on his heels, a rare smile softening the fire-forged lines of his face. The golden boy. Their Fire Prince. But the smile was not meant for her.
Alina turned, her heart caught between anticipation and dread.
And there he was, Kai. He stepped into the courtyard, twin hook swords glinting in hand.
The breath hitched in her chest. He was exactly as she remembered him.
Tall and lean with shoulders made for carrying kingdoms, eyes as dark as storm-wrought skies, hair tousled by the wind. And that smile—god, that smile...