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“Sparrow. Get up.”

I groaned. The mattress beneath me was soft, the blankets warm and comfortable. Sinking farther into the pillow, I pretended

not to hear the voice of the Guildmaster, even as I knew he wouldn’t let this go.

An impatient sigh. “Fine. Sleep away the morning, lazy child. I suppose you don’t want the gift in my office, then.”

I opened my eyes. “Gift?”

“Aha. I thought so.” Vahn shook his head in amused exasperation as I sat up, more curious than anything. The times Vahn had

gifted me with anything could be counted on one hand. If I wanted something, I was expected to get it myself.

“It’s nothing big,” he went on, “but the client was impressed that you managed to get into Rul Fadel’s bedchambers to acquire

the item from his nightstand. She left you a gift from her private collection in thanks.”

“Ooh.” I hopped up, grinning. “I’m awake,” I told Vahn, who raised a brow at me. “I’m ready for my gift. Maybe it will make

dodging guards and hiding from a pack of attack dogs worth it.”

A reluctant smile flickered over his features. One hand rose and rested briefly atop my head. “You did well last night,” he said, and a warm glow ignited in my stomach. “That was a difficult job. I don’t know if anyone else could’ve pulled it off so easily.”

The warm glow spread through my whole body, but I shrugged. “As if there was any doubt. I am the best thief in the guild, after all.”

Anyone else, especially Jeran, would’ve rolled their eyes or made some comment about my lack of humility. Vahn, however, simply

chuckled.

“Yes,” he muttered, and turned away, leaving me to follow. “Let’s hope that stays true for a while longer.”

I stirred, opening my eyes slowly, the dream fading into a searing white light as consciousness returned. For a moment, I

wondered where I was. The surface against my back and legs felt hard yet unstable, bobbing rhythmically beneath me. I raised

my head, seeing the edges of a small wooden skiff with two figures sitting against its sides, one dozing with his head on

his chest, one gazing out over nothing. And then everything came rushing back.

Kovass had fallen. Jeran was dead. Vahn had betrayed me. And the godlike, immortal Deathless King had returned to the world.

Because of me.

My stomach heaved. I turned, dragged myself to the edge of the skiff, and emptied its contents into the churning sands, which

swallowed the mess instantly. My eyes burned, my vision going blurry, as I gagged and tried to suck in enough breath not to

be sick again.

“Sparrow.”

I felt Halek’s presence beside me, right before a gentle touch pressed into my back.

“Easy there,” he murmured as I panted and tried to compose myself.

“This is probably not the best time to mention this, but you should try not to waste any liquid. It’s going to get really unpleasant in a couple hours. ”

Blinking away the last of the tears, I looked up, and my stomach threatened to rebel once more.

The endless expanse of the Dust Sea surrounded us all the way to the horizon on every side. Dust eddies swirled along the

sand, dissolving into nothing before forming again. Heat waves shimmered off the surface, making the air look like water.

No matter where I turned, I couldn’t see anything but shifting sand and dust, stretching on and on until it touched the sky.

And then I saw Solasti, directly overhead, and I realized what Halek was talking about.

Demon Hour was coming.

Dread filled me. There was no shelter out here, no shade, nothing to protect us from the burning glare of the twins. The air

on the Dust Sea was already like an oven, thick and oppressive; once Demon Hour hit, we would be like meat on a skillet.

As Halek said, things were about to get really unpleasant.

I glanced at Raithe, sitting on the edge of the skiff with one foot braced on the bench, and found the iylvahn watching me.

“Any ideas?” I asked weakly. The inside of my mouth felt rancid and dry; I desperately wished I hadn’t vomited precious liquid

over the side.

The iylvahn closed his eyes. His face, I suddenly noticed, looked haggard beneath his hood. “Pray,” he said, opening his eyes.

“And hope that the winds of Fate blow a little harder in this direction.”

We drifted.

The Dust Sea stretched on, endless and eternal. Unchanging. Time was measured by the appearance of Namaia, poking her head

over the horizon, and how far she had climbed to join her sister overhead. When Namaia first appeared, the heat was unbearable.

By the time she was halfway into the sky, I knew we weren’t going to survive the next hour. Eventually, our boat would be

found bobbing in the waves somewhere, with three baked, shriveled corpses lying in the bottom. Halek, Raithe, and I worked

together to take down the sail, positioning it so that it cast a bit of shade over the boat, providing a little relief from

the glare of the twins. But it wasn’t enough, and as Namaia climbed ever higher, it was all I could do to lie motionless on

the deck, Halek and Raithe beside me, expending as little energy as I could.

It was hard to breathe. The air scraped my throat, passing over lips as dry and cracked as a brick wall. I couldn’t summon

any saliva to wet my lips; my mouth felt like a desert, filled with dust. On either side of me, Halek and Raithe lay like

the dead, Halek on his stomach with his face buried in his arms, Raithe on his side, facing away from me. The skiff was small,

so we were crushed together, but there was nowhere else to lie, and sitting on the edges of the boat was impossible. Occasionally,

I felt one of them shift, or heard a breath that told me they weren’t dead. Idly, I wondered when that would change. When

their movements would cease and there would be a pair of lifeless bodies lying next to me. Or would I be the one they tried

to rouse and couldn’t?

On my left side, Halek shifted so that his face was turned toward me.

My hood was pulled down as far as it could go to protect me from the sun, but even without seeing him, I could hear the faintest grin in his voice.

“Fate has... a funny sense of humor, I’ve found,” he whispered, his voice coming out raspy and dry.

“Escape the literal fall of a city... only to be roasted alive on the Dust Sea. But I can’t.

.. cry about it—literally—so I... have to laugh. ”

He was trying to cheer me up, but smiling would split my lips open, which would be painful. Besides, I didn’t think I would

smile again for a long, long time. Maybe Halek could laugh in the face of death, but when I closed my eyes, I could still

see Jeran bleeding out on the altar, and Vahn’s flat, emotionless stare. I could see the city crumbling, crushing thousands,

including the people I’d known all my life. And I could see the black soulstone hovering in the air above the pedestal. If

I had simply turned around and left it where it was...

Beside me, I felt Halek raise his head a little more, though how he had the energy to do even that, I didn’t know. “Hey, kahjai,”

he called weakly. “Raithe, was it? Are you dead?”

There was a pause, long enough to send a ripple of fear through my stomach; maybe the deadly iylvahn assassin had died and I was lying next to a corpse. But then there was a breath, and Raithe’s voice drifted up, raspy and hoarse. “No.”

“I feel... we got off on a bad foot,” Halek went on.

“This might not be the time but... if it is my fate... to die here on the Dust Sea, I want my conscience to be clean.” He took a breath, as if gathering the remains of his energy.

“I... appreciate that you helped Sparrow,” he went on, “and that you?.?.?.?didn’t kill me when you had the chance. So?.?.?.?thank you.”

Raithe made a tiny sound that might’ve been a sigh. “Save your strength, Fatechaser,” he said, not unkindly. “If it eases

your conscience, I am not your enemy. I appreciate that you came by when you did, though I fear the end result will be the

same.”

I’m sorry. My eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut. I had no tears to cry, even if I wanted to. All the death, the fall of the city ?.?.?.? it happened because of me. I was the catalyst for everything.

Now Kovass was gone. And I was going to die here, on a lonely boat in the middle of the Dust Sea. It seemed my luck had run

out at last. Maybe the Weaver had finally gotten tired of my hijinks, but Raithe and Halek didn’t deserve this fate.

Somehow, Halek gave a raspy chuckle. “Maybe we’ll be?.?.?. eaten by a dust serpent,” he wheezed, referring to the legends

of the enormous snakes that prowled the Dust Sea. “It would be over fast, I would think. At least then?.?.?.?we’d be out of

the suns.”

Raithe hesitated. I could sense him struggling with himself, debating whether or not to say something. “If?.?.?.?you like,”

he began at last, “if you want the pain to end, I can make it quick.”

My stomach twisted. He was offering to kill Halek, to end his suffering quickly instead of letting him die a lingering death.

For just a moment, it was tempting.

But Halek gave another painful-sounding chuckle.

“Much?.?.?. as I appreciate the thought, assassin,” he rasped, “it’s against the Fatechaser code?.

.?.?to orchestrate your own death. For good or ill, when our fate does come for us?.

.?.?it’s because it was meant to happen.

Trying to stop it, or hurrying it along?.

.?.?goes against the entire ideology of a Fatechaser. ”

Raithe didn’t say anything to that, and another moment passed in silence. “Sparrow?” the assassin murmured after a few heartbeats.

“Are you awake?”

I nodded, knowing he would feel it, not trusting my voice at the moment.

“I am sorry for Kovass,” he went on, making my throat close and my eyes burn even more. “And your friends. I know that’s of

little comfort now.”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, and talking seemed like too much effort. His next words, though, caused my stomach to twist