Page 3 of Crown of the Dunes (The Ballan Desert #2)
Given the scowl I seemed unable to wipe from my face, I didn’t blame him.
My breath puffed out through my lips in sharp pants, and I pursed them in annoyance.
I paused, giving my burning lungs a chance to recover, and me an excuse to stay outside for a few minutes longer.
After long weeks in the infirmary, sleeping under a stone ceiling, I yearned for the open sky with a bone-deep ache that slowly became more painful than my burns.
As much as I loved Kelvadan, nothing soothed me like the sun-bleached desert sky, stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see.
With the hand that wasn’t holding the cane, I grabbed the railing that enclosed the terrace and let my gaze wander out over the edge.
It skittered over the stacked, geometric stone tiers of the city carved straight from the side of the mountain, past the blazing gold of the dunes, and instead fixed itself on the horizon.
My heart clenched, like a rag being rung out.
I squinted at the line where the sky met the sand, as if I could will my vision to penetrate the miles of open desert—as if I could summon the sight of a distant encampment.
But the magic pooling in my gut, becoming less sluggish every day that passed without pain medication, did not grant my request. The desert had motivations I had yet to understand, and she did not deign to show me Erix, despite the strange connection that lingered between us.
I bit my tongue, hating how I longed for the sound of his voice or the feeling of his fingers carding through my hair.
Making peace with him and the clans should be at the forefront of my mind, but selfishly, I often found myself just wishing for him.
But beneath that yearning bubbled an anger—a twisted and confused sense of betrayal.
It knotted up like the ball of darkness I knew existed in Erix’s own mind.
He had brought me to Lord Alasdar, and he had not come for me .
I let my eyes drift up toward the cloudless sky instead, hoping for a fluttering of familiar wings.
Erix had used his falcon, Zephyr, to send a message to Lord Alasdar during our time in the desert.
Surely he could send him with a note saying…
anything. He could negotiate a peace between the Great City and the combined clans he now commanded.
We could make a plan to retrieve and restore the Heart of the Desert.
At the very least he could confirm that I still lived—although I had a feeling Erix already knew that much, based on the way the bond between us pulsed and shivered at random intervals.
But the sky remained empty, the cloudless expanse bleached by the brightness of the sun. The endless openness of the desert sky usually calmed me—far more welcome than the stone ceiling of the palace infirmary—but now, the barrenness opened a hole in my chest.
It would seem Erix wasn’t coming.
A month had passed since that fateful night in Lord Alasdar’s tent, but no message had appeared—no rider on a dark horse crested the horizon to put a stop to the looming war.
I had told Erix that I loved him in all his brokenness just as darkness claimed me.
I hadn’t heard his response. Perhaps he thought I had abandoned him during the Kelvadan riders’ attack.
Maybe he still planned to march on the Great City and raze it, as if that could somehow destroy the legacy it had saddled him with.
I swallowed around the feeling of broken glass in my throat. I had spent a decade of my youth staring at the horizon, imagining my clan—my parents—appearing to take me back. Every second the endless sands remained empty added to the depth of my loneliness.
Now, I had been abandoned again.
As I stared, Neven stepped up beside me, laying his hands on the stone railing.
The sharp anguish of abandonment dulled at the awareness that I was not completely alone here in the Great City.
I tore my eyes from the sky to look down at Neven’s fingers.
Where his were smooth, the skin on the back of my hand now held the echoes of burns where my flesh had melted away at the touch of the lava wyrm .
They were not as scarred as they might have been, thanks to Queen Ginevra.
“How is the queen?” I asked, guilt bubbling up in my throat.
Neven sighed heavily. “She’s managed to make a few diplomatic appearances since she tried to heal you, but they must be short. She tires easily. Still, it’s been enough to keep the new ambassadors from Viltov and Doran from suspecting too much.”
I swallowed thickly, not looking at him as I nodded.
From the moment I passed through the gates of Kelvadan, I had carried the fear that I would bring its downfall. But I had always thought it would be from a loss of control—not from causing the queen to fall ill.
“Can I see her?” I asked. It was a question I had echoed every day since the first time I had gotten out of bed a week ago.
The warm air stirred as Neven shifted beside me. This time, I did turn to look at him, finding him considering me pensively.
“You’re getting stronger, and so is she.
I think Aderyn would agree that you’re recovered enough for a meeting.
” His mouth twisted into a wry smile, although the crinkles at the corner of his eyes belied a hint of wistfulness.
“I wish I could disagree though, because I know that as soon as the three of you get together again, you’ll be back to carrying the weight of the world once more.
If I had my way, you’d have more time to heal before picking up those burdens again. I think you’ve earned your rest.”
The smile that softened my scowl was genuine. “I think the desert heaps these burdens on us whether we are ready for them or not.”
“Maybe heroic riders like you,” Neven observed. “I’m just a humble weaver, and all I want is peace.”
“There is nothing humble about peace. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so difficult to achieve.” I looked out over the desert once more. With every second that passed without Erix on the horizon, hope for that peace slipped through my fingers, like grains of sand through an hourglass.