Page 7 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

‘The witches will all be gathered in my kingdom by now,’ Alina said quietly, ‘now that the castle and the city of Spark lie beneath their shadow.’ They would need allies, desperately so, if they were ever to reclaim what had been stolen.

But before that, she needed to become something more than a fallen princess.

She needed to learn how to wield a weapon with purpose, how to become the storm instead of the wreckage it left behind.

Only then could she return to her homeland.

Not to beg, but to destroy. And when she did, she would kill the warlock who had betrayed her, even if it was the last act she ever performed.

‘Perhaps,’ Hessa conceded. ‘But the phoenixians deserve to know.’

Hessa rose to retire, her long silhouette graceful beneath the starlight. Just before vanishing into the shadows of the tent, she turned back, her moon-pale eyes softening. ‘Desert clothes suit you, amira.’

Then she was gone.

Alina glanced down at herself. Gone were the heavy, high-necked dresses of courtly life.

In their place, flowing desert silks hugged her frame.

Hessa had loaned her garments from her own trunks, carried faithfully by the servants atop their serpents.

Alina still wore a shawl, carefully wrapped to shield her exposed skin from view.

It offered her a kind of armour, a veil between herself and the world.

Hessa, on the other hand, strode freely through the desert winds, bare arms and stomach on show, unbothered by judgment or tradition.

Perhaps one day, Alina might find such boldness within herself. But not tonight.

She turned to head for her tent, only to find Hessa hurrying back, something cradled in her cupped palms, a delighted grin stretching across her face.

‘Look, amira!’ she called, breathless with excitement. ‘Look what was resting on my bed! I told you, my sister is watching over us.’

‘What is it?’ Alina asked, stepping closer, though her tone was wary.

Hessa opened her hands, revealing a strange, glimmering insect. Alina recoiled slightly, a shudder rippling through her. Insects had never been to her taste.

‘It’s a narshara,’ Hessa explained. The creature pulsed with light, delicate wings humming.

‘Oh, we have those in the Kingdom of Fire too,’ Alina said, recovering herself. ‘But we call them fireflies. In summer, the palace gardens would be full of them.’

‘In the desert, we believe the narshara are gifts from the dead,’ Hessa said, her voice softening.

‘A guide, left behind to help the living find their way through the dunes.’ She lifted her hands, releasing the creature into the night.

It twinkled once more and vanished into the darkness. ‘Perhaps my sister means to guide us.’

‘Perhaps,’ Alina echoed, uncertain, but unwilling to extinguish the flicker of comfort in Hessa’s eyes.

‘Let’s sleep out here tonight, amira,’ Hessa said, lowering herself once more beside the fire. She beckoned a servant. ‘Trahar mi guita, paahfa.’

Though Alina couldn’t decipher the Sandhii tongue, the servant swiftly returned with blankets and thick woven covers, and she assumed that had been the request.

‘Won’t we freeze?’ she asked. The old tales of the desert had warned of cruel nights, when the heat fled with the sun and death crept in with the cold.

Hessa laughed. ‘Yes, in the deep desert perhaps. But this, this is phoenixian land. It is not yet true desert. The warmth will hold through the night.’ She patted the ground beside her. ‘Come, lie with me. We’ll watch the stars.’

Alina followed Hessa’s lead, lying beside the desert princess as they gazed up at a sky heavy with stars, each one a silent witness to the sorrows and secrets of the world.

‘Will you teach me?’ she asked softly.

‘Teach you what?’

‘Your language.’

She felt, rather than saw, Hessa turn her head, surprise likely etched across her features.

‘You wish to learn Sandhii, amira?’

‘I’ll be spending time in your kingdom learning to fight. I’ll need to understand something of the language,’ Alina replied.

Hessa laughed, warm and teasing, which made Alina twist to face her with a mild glare. ‘And what, exactly, is so amusing?’

‘Nothing, amira. Just… the thought of a drakonian learning Sandhii.’ Her tone was light, but Alina caught the faint trace of bitterness beneath it.

‘We study phoenixian,’ Alina offered defensively. ‘We are not entirely ignorant.’

Hessa shrugged, her smile fading into something a little more tired.

‘The phoenixians have always been powerful. Your people have seen them as worthy allies. But us? We desert folk have never been granted that same respect. From the three southern kingdoms, yours has always considered mine the weakest. What do they call us?’

Alina swallowed. The lump in her throat was sharp and bitter.

‘Dessert,’ she whispered, ashamed.

Hessa snorted, her nose wrinkling in quiet frustration.

Alina longed to reach for her hand, to offer some unspoken apology, to show that, though her kingdom might have viewed Hessa’s people with disdain, she never had.

But that would be a lie. So instead, she turned her gaze back to the sky, biting down on her lip in silent vexation, for the truth was plain and shameful: she had once been one of them.

One of the drakonians who had laughed along with the court’s cruel jokes.

‘Well,’ she said, more to the night than to Hessa, ‘it’s a different world now. My kingdom is no longer.’