Rebel of the Sands (Rebel of the Sands, #1)(57)

The Djinni’s mark.

“I realized you didn’t know when you told me about your mother’s husband. You called him your father. Demdji who know what they are don’t do that.” I looked at the two Demdji next to him. Delila was chewing her lip, looking uneasy, while on her shoulder Hala looked like she might be about to clap her hands at my discomfort.

“Plenty of Gallan soldiers have eyes like mine,” I argued.

“Northerners have eyes like pale water. Yours are different. Yours are the color of fire when it burns too hot. And it’s more than that.” Now that Jin had stopped ignoring me, all his attention was mine. “You know the stories better than I do: Djinn can’t tell lies. Neither can their children. I’d bet my life no lie has ever crossed your tongue.”

My laugh was short and violent. Shazad took a step toward me, but I pulled back. “You calling me honest?”

“No, you’re a great deceiver. But you’re no liar.”

I remembered something Jin had said in the shop in Dustwalk. You’re a good liar. For someone who doesn’t lie.

“At the shop, I hid you from Naguib—”

“You didn’t lie to him.” The world narrowed to Jin and me and the memory of that day. “Not once. You told him it was a quiet day. You said there weren’t many foreigners in Dustwalk. Misleading truths, but still truths. You tricked him. Just like you did with the caravan. Just like you did when you told me I could call you Oman.” I thought about how easily Jin had trusted my word. Of how easily he’d given up on finding the weapon in Fahali when I’d said. “Djinn are powerful, deceitful things.”

“So what’s your excuse?” I lashed out, but Jin didn’t even flinch.

“I can keep going if you want.”

“Jin.” Ahmed’s warning sounded far off.

“The sand and the sun don’t drain you the way they do us mere mortals. You belong to them.” I remembered one of our last nights in the desert. You’re unnatural, he’d said to me. “You pick up languages like that.” He snapped his fingers, and I realized he’d spoken the last two words in Xichian. All the nights in the desert when he’d fed me stories of far-off places and scraps of their language. Testing me.

“Stop it.” I could barely speak the words. What was it Shazad had said about the Demdji? That they—we—were useful. Was that why Jin had saved me in the first place? Dragged me across the desert, not as an ally, not because we needed each other to stay alive, but because he knew his brother could use me?

I stepped closer, the circle around him parting for me nervously. Until I was close enough that I could’ve kissed him again. That kiss was a trick, too. Mine. I was a creature of deceit, but I wasn’t the liar here. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Go on, then.” His mouth twitched up. “Prove me wrong; tell me a lie. Tell me your name is Oman, straight out this time. Tell me you’re a boy named Alidad. Tell me you are not a Demdji.”

“Why should I?” I could feel my tongue fighting against the words he dared me to say.

“Because you can’t.” Victory was marked all over him as he watched me struggle.

My hand lashed out. His face cracked sideways and my palm stung. And before anyone could say anything more to me, I ran.

? ? ?

“SO ARE YOU planning on stealing all our guns, or do you think maybe you only need one per hand?” I whirled around. Ahmed was watching me from the mouth of the small cave in the canyon wall. I could just make him out.

I’d decided to leave. I’d decided that before my hand had even stopped stinging from hitting Jin. But I wasn’t going unarmed. I wedged the fourth pistol between the sheema I’d tied around my middle like a sash, since I didn’t have a belt, and my hip bone. “Maybe your armory ought to be better guarded if you don’t want folks helping themselves.”

“Not a consideration we’ve really needed to have before you,” Ahmed said.

“Well, you ought to think of that next time your brother brings ignorant strays home.” I pushed by him and started walking. Ahmed followed me.

“Am I a prisoner?” I turned to face him when we’d walked a few steps.

“No.” Ahmed clasped his hands behind his back. “Though Jin did say we’d better send someone after you so that when you collapsed from sheer stubborn exhaustion, we could bring you back before you died.”

“He has so much faith in me.” I didn’t try to keep the bitterness from my voice as I fiddled with the pistol at my waist.

“He does,” Ahmed said. “He thought you’d have made it much farther than this by now, for one thing.”

I flicked the hammer of the pistol restlessly. He wasn’t wrong. I was exhausted. And wounded. And hungry. And miles from anywhere else I could go. Even farther from anywhere I wanted to be. But before Jin woke up, before the word Demdji spun out of Hala’s mouth and landed on me, I’d wanted to stay.

“Why?” My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat.

“Well,” Ahmed said, “from what I understand, you walked a long way here. Jin figured you’d at least make it past the point of no return . . .”

I caught myself before I laughed. I could almost pretend he was just another boy from the Last County, except with a better accent. “Why didn’t he tell me?”