Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands #1)(38)

I thought I understood fear. I’d grown up in Dustwalk. But that was a restless fear, the kind that made me want to run. This was the kind that crawled up from the bottom of your gut and told you there was no running. The kind that made you go still from it.

“And Dassama was—”

“A testing ground,” he filled in grimly. “Commander Naguib must’ve taken the weapon up to Izman to hand it over. But they would’ve needed a testing site. Some place where the Gallan would be able to see it for themselves.” And the Sultan had given them one of his own cities, with his own people, so they could test a bomb that would cripple the rest of the world. “Dassama was a large Gallan base, but rumor had it they were losing control of the city to the rebellion.” I remembered the night we’d met in Deadshot. A new dawn, a new desert. The rebellion. The Sultan was allied with the Gallan. Holding his power depended on them. I’d never figured that the Rebel Prince might mean getting rid of the Gallan as well as the Sultan. I supposed the Gallan had.

“And you think the weapon is here?” I said. “In Fahali?”

“This is the only city within spitting distance of Dassama,” Jin said. “Rumor has it the Gallan have doubled their numbers here in past months, searching for the Rebel Prince.” He smiled, like at a private joke.

It’d be petty to yell at him about this. About not telling me. About turning around and walking away from the caravan without a word. “You’re going to get us both killed if you go off looking for it on your own, you know. And if I was going to die on account of you, I’d rather have done it weeks ago before I had to do all this walking.” So maybe I was a little petty.

“Amani, you are not a part of this if I—” Jin stopped abruptly. My eyes followed his behind me. I saw a flash of blue uniforms. It was all I needed to see.

Jin grabbed my hand as I moved to run, pulling me sideways instead, into a narrow side alley. The cool of the shade folded over me, and we both flattened ourselves in the shadows as the Gallan soldiers descended on the Camel’s Knees.

“All caravans must submit to inspection.” The Gallan soldier spoke Mirajin with a thick accent that came from the back of his throat and made it sound like he was gargling water while talking.

“We’ve already searched them.” One of the Mirajin guards stepped forward. “They have nothing. We were about to release them, sir.”

“We are to search again. Orders of General Dumas.” The Gallan soldier waved his men forward even as the caravan drew back.

The city guard had moved through the caravan’s bags like a lazy desert heat, but the Gallan soldiers tore through like a storm, only with more ill will. I stared as bags were ripped off of camels’ sides, what was left of our supplies emptied into the street. Yasmin was forced to raise her hands above her head while the Gallan soldiers searched her slowly.

Then there was a shout. A young Gallan held up what was left of one of the saddlebags. He’d sliced into it with a knife, peeling the layers of leather apart, and he was holding what looked like a thin silk bag. He tipped it sideways and something fell out, scattering in the afternoon wind. It looked like fine blue thread, almost like hair. Jin swore.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Medicines.” Jin said. “Only ones made from magic, not science.” That couldn’t be right. There were plenty of desperate charlatans across the desert who sold red water and claimed it was cure all Djinni blood, but nobody believed in that. But then, they didn’t hide it in the linings of their saddlebags, either. “Magic’ll cost anyone his head,” Jin said grimly. “Figures that Parviz wanted to avoid the city.”

I watched as Parviz was dragged forward and shoved to his knees in front of the soldier who’d spoken Mirajin. My hand flew to my gun at the same moment that the Gallan soldier pulled out his. My anger was sudden. They didn’t belong in our desert. They didn’t belong in my bloodline, either. I was a desert girl. I hated that half of me came from these foreigners.

I could shoot him.

The thought slid into my mind as neatly as a bullet slotted into a gun. It might not save Parviz, but I could try. Before I could move, Yasmin burst forward, shoving her way past the Mirajin guard. She flung herself between her father and the soldier, straight into the line of my shot. The soldier’s gun didn’t drop; it just stayed trained on Yasmin now instead of Parviz. His finger went to the trigger. Mine was already there.

“Stop.” The Mirajin guard stepped forward. “You will not shoot him here.”

“It is law that he be executed,” the Gallan soldier said. “General Dumas’s orders.” He said the name again, as if it carried the weight of God’s own command.

“It’s law for smugglers to stand trial before execution,” the Mirajin guard countered. “Prince Naguib’s orders.”

I felt Jin stiffen behind me at the name the same time as I did. Naguib was here. Commander Naguib, who had held a gun to my head and shot Tamid through the knee. Of all the people to save them. The pistol was reholstered.

I sagged back against the cool wall as the caravan was rounded up to be imprisoned. Jin and I stayed still in the mouth of the alley. When we couldn’t hear footsteps anymore, his body relaxed against mine.

“You know, I never believed in fate until I met you,” he said, tipping his head back against the wall with a deep sigh. “Then I started thinking coincidence didn’t have near so cruel a sense of humor.”