Page 12 of Crown of the Dunes (The Ballan Desert #2)

“When I have seen cavalry from Doran, they always had reins to hold on to,” Calix observed, now awkwardly trying to stack his hands at the base of his stallion’s neck. Stump snorted and tossed his head.

I wrinkled my nose. “The clans only ever put fresh foals on lead ropes. We wouldn’t want to take away our mount’s ability to steer themselves. How else would they pick the best path?”

“I think most people believe the rider is supposed to guide the horse, not the other way around.” Calix sighed in defeat as Stump began shuffling sideways again, instead of walking parallel to the city wall we rode along.

I ducked behind them to the other side, straightening out their path again.

“Besides, you seem to control your horse well enough,” Calix pointed out once we rode side-by-side once more.

I stared down at Cail’s dappled neck, watching it bob as we walked. “She knows where I want to go,” I admitted. “But if I don’t follow her cues as much as she follows mine, we won’t work.”

I looked up, finding Calix staring at me curiously—as if I was a complicated but engaging puzzle .

“It doesn’t seem all that dissimilar to sailing, really,” Calix observed. “Even when you’re sailing into the wind, you can’t fight it. You have to work with it.” He smiled. “You would probably be a good sailor.”

I raised my brows. “Just because they have similarities, doesn’t necessarily mean the skills transfer. You are comfortable on a ship, but Kaius practically had to lift you onto Stump’s back.”

Calix folded his arms, only to immediately uncross them and throw them out to the side to catch his balance as Stump shifted. I suppressed a snort. Stump was as placid as his name implied, and even clan children would be able to ride him without aid, but he was also fittingly stubborn.

Once he had settled, Calix crossed his arms once more, although he still looked wary. “If you’re so good, why don’t you show me what you can do?”

My thighs tensed around the horse between my legs, as if my body was primed for the freedom of galloping across the dunes before my mind had fully processed the suggestion. I hesitated, but deep in my gut, something stirred—my magic reared its head in interest.

Calix cocked his head and raised one dark brow. The twinkle in his eye made me smile, calling to the wild part of me that sometimes suffocated under the weight of walls around me.

With a sharp cry, I kicked my mount into action. Muscles lurched beneath me, forcing me to lean forward to avoid losing my seat. As we launched forward and my stomach leaped up into my throat, it occurred to me that I may not have given Cail enough credit.

Her hooves beat a tattoo against the sunbaked earth, accelerating to match the wild pounding of my heart.

We left Calix and Stump in a cloud of dust, and I let her run until I could make out the dull green of the grain fields at the base of the mountain next to the city, placed where they could be irrigated by the mountain springs.

An involuntary trickle of magic escaped my mind, reaching into my mount’s consciousness and making us move as one as we flew.

The trickle of magic teased loose a knot within me.

It was the first time I had tapped into my power since unintentionally trying to bring down the palace around me during my convalescence.

This wasn’t like that though—it wasn’t a terrifying and overwhelming surge that cost me my sense of self.

It felt like stretching a stiff and underused muscle, aching but strangely pleasant.

This was how it was supposed to feel. My horse and I were in harmony with the desert around us.

We approached a pair of Kelvadan riders in their patrol circling the city but made no move to slow. We barreled past them, and a wild whoop escaped my chest as the wind of our passing ruffled the closer man’s hair.

The air pulled my own curls from the braid across one side of my scalp, tickling the shaved side pleasantly.

Gone was the burning and tingling that had encased one side of my face and scalp, even when the queen’s healing had removed the visible scarring.

Instead, my skin only felt the warm wind, laced with the ever-present grit of sand.

I didn’t make any move to slow my mare until we approached the grain fields at the foot of the mountains.

When I finally sat back, slowing to a canter and then finally a walk, Cail’s sides were coated with sweat, but the way she pranced and tossed her head told me she had enjoyed the exercise as much as I had.

I patted her neck for a few moments, before the clomp of a second pair of hooves behind me grabbed my attention.

I twisted in my seat to find Stump and Calix approaching, Calix’s hands gripping Stump’s mane in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable for the gelding. The prince’s eyes were wide and his jaw tight as he bounced inelegantly on the creature’s back.

As they pulled up beside me, the glare Calix shot me was almost enough to make me feel bad—almost.

“Your showing off gave Stump some ideas,” he grumbled.

I looked at the gelding in surprise, not expecting him to have voluntarily gone faster than a lazy trot. Apparently, the wildness of my flight was infectious.

“I apologize. We were just having some fun.” I stroked my mare’s neck in appreciation.

“Apologize to my ass,” Calix said .

I reared back in shock, only to find him smiling wryly, clearly joking. I snorted at his antics.

“It’s going to be bruised for a week,” he admitted, taking a moment to rub his backside.

I grimaced. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll probably be sore too. My riding muscles aren’t as strong as they used to be.”

“Maybe we should get back to the stables then, before either of us develops too much of a limp,” Calix suggested.

“I did only just get rid of mine.” I sighed.

“And it won’t do for a diplomat trying to negotiate for horses for our cavalry to have been nearly left maimed by trying to ride one.”

I stiffened in my seat enough that my horse broke into a shuffle. I let her do it, and it gave me a moment to collect my thoughts as we began our short walk back to the gate.

I had distantly known Viltov wanted horses to aid in their war against Doran, but the purpose of Calix’s presence had been shoved aside by my initial concern in keeping the queen’s illness from him, and in hoping Kelvadan might still get outside help in defending itself in the war that seemed more inevitable by the day.

Of course, Viltov would not help Kelvadan without getting something in return.

I glanced at Calix, opening my mouth even though I hadn’t figured out what to say. He wasn’t looking at me though, instead staring ahead with a look of curiosity.

I followed his gaze. The grain fields at the base of the mountain stretched for miles in either direction. Arrowgrass waved gently in the stretch closest to us, while fields of durum and sorghum fanned out into the open patches at the feet of the mountains.

“I’m surprised so much grows here,” Calix commented as he clambered off Stump’s back to the ground, where he twisted this way and that, clearly stiff from his ride, short as it had been. “Everything in the desert looks… dead.”

“Oh, the desert is very much alive,” I said, also dismounting and giving Cail a pat on the nose. “You just have to know where to look. Admittedly, crops like this can only be grown near the city, where they can be irrigated by the mountain springs.”

I’d learned as much in a stilted conversation with the city’s Archon of Agriculture when he greeted me in the hall one day, and I’d tried to focus on his explanations, even as they made my brain ache.

Still, most of the details slipped out of my brain like it was a water skin with holes poked in it.

“Then what do the clans eat?” Calix asked, squinting over a large stretch of crops and shading his eyes.

“They hunt. And they harvest from the date palms at the oases.” That was something I knew far more about. “They used to trade with Kelvadan for grain on occasion but…”

I trailed off, not knowing what to say about the current enmity between the clans and the city.

I stepped forward into the neat row of knee-high grass, letting my fingers brush over it as I admired the grain in the distance.

After years of unseasoned meat and sickly-sweet dates, bread was one of the pleasures of life in Kelvadan.

Every time I received my meal from the palace kitchens, I would tear into the fragrant, steaming loaf first. Even thinking about it now, my mouth watered.

Sands, I loved bread.

The soft swish of the grasses signaled Calix joining me.

I expected to tense at his proximity, but I found him a pleasant companion.

The thought raised my mental hackles, and I stepped away from him, further into the waist-height plants.

I couldn’t lower my defenses—especially around someone who might yet become an enemy.

Figures milled through the field, tending the crops that kept everybody in Kelvadan fed, keeping at bay the starvation of the desert I knew far too intimately.

Of course, I also knew that with the increasingly violent storms making farming difficult, food in Kelvadan would also not be guaranteed for much longer.

A few of the workers paused to look in our direction. I couldn’t see their faces from this distance, but I wondered if their expressions were curious or judgmental .

The man closest to me—a dark-skinned figure, no more than a boy really—suddenly toppled forward, falling to his hands and knees. I could barely make out his hunched shoulders over the tall grass. I frowned, already striding toward him in concern when I felt it.