Anticipation for it thrummed through Raya, but she still flinched when Amina whirled on her. "You stole me away?" Disbelief wracked the words and shook them until they splintered.

The sting of bile lingered in Raya's throat and nostrils, a slur over her thoughts she could do without. She searched for her voice amid it and found herself hesitating.

When the silence ticked on a beat too long, Amina released a frustrated snarl. Fire flooded her gaze; Raya could've sworn the dry air around them crackled and warmed, lit by the force of her glare. Her fists pounded the air as she threw them down. "This is ridiculous! Why?"

This pause had no room for Raya's voice to hitch, but it did anyway. Amina spat another curse she shouldn't have known at her age. "Answer me!"

Sand spraying from her heels, she lurched into a furious pounce, and fear, if nothing else, spurred Raya into motion. She scrambled to her feet and skittered back, hands thrust defensively in front of her. Her heart beat against her ribs. "I had to," she breathed in a rush.

Amina rolled her eyes. "You just had to. That explains everything." She flung her arms in wide arcs, gesturing to the expansive, empty desert around them. "We're in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, and you nearly got me killed!" Her glare swept towards Meag, a ball of curled-up grey fur in Raya's periphery. "That freakish thing would've murdered us both if I hadn't saved us. What kind of messed-up crazy are you?"

"That wasn't Meag's fault. I didn't know she was injured." Raya's voice drifted, far too soft. She felt more foolish with every word.

Amina blinked, confusion shuttering momentarily over her anger. She scoffed. "You named it?"

Something about her tone rubbed against the hairs on the back of Raya's neck, both eerily normal and unsettlingly wrong. She threaded her fingers through her uneven hair to shift it out of her eyes, trying to hide the slight jolt of surprise when her fingers slid abruptly into empty air rather than a sleek, unending river, and fixed Amina with a proper stare. "Meag had a name already. She's not a monster." Her hand found her pocket and curled around Corvin's flute, assured by the touch of carved wood. Part of her wanted to draw it out and test it against her lips again, though she knew she couldn't play its notes with a fraction of his gentle ease. At Amina's deepening frown, she added, "She's a living being—intelligent, even, maybe. She's a friend."

For a singular moment, hope swelled within her, pushed upward by the confidence the repeated words filled her with. She convinced herself that Amina's expression told that she was mulling it over, processing the new concept, though the delusion ended quickly with the girl's whispered words, thick with shock and then venom. "You seriously believe that?"

"I do." Raya gripped the flute tighter.

Like a cloud had just passed over the sun, Amina's glare returned in full force. "You're mad."

Raya's shoulders sagged. "Maybe." Evading the girl's gaze, she fiddled with the edge of her brother's cloak, adjusting where it sat on her shoulders. She felt overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. She didn't want to argue her choice, not when the same squabble chased itself in unforgiving loops around her mind.

"I know this is a mess," she admitted. "No-one else was supposed to get involved. But when you followed me—"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Amina bit out.

A sigh billowed out. "Look the other way." She released the cloak, dissatisfied with its unfixable broad frame. Bitterness rose, darkening her tone so that words slipped out on their own, driven by an itch in the pit of her stomach. "That's what people in Tehazihbith do when something goes wrong."

The honesty of it burned. Now gone from sight, she would simply be brushed out of mind too, as all her many flaws—her mediocre skill, her lack of friends—had been over the years. She'd be as much of an unseen blot on the city's wellbeing as the servant girls like Yasmin. They'd dance carefully around any mention of her name during those dinner-table conversations and scrub her from common thought until she was simple enough to forget. That way, perfection would remain.

There must've been someone like her in the past. She couldn't be the first one to have seen the cracks, but how could she ever know?

She thought of Hariq and stuffed him swiftly to the back of her mind. He wouldn't forget. She didn't know whether she wanted him to, not when his betrayed look chased her.

Movement jolted her from her reverie, though not quickly enough. A hand fisted the front of her shirt and towed her a step closer, and suddenly Amina's nose was inches from hers, her face flushed. She was pushed up her toes, her chin lifted. Her lip curled back. "Don't you dare speak of Tehazihbith that way."

Taken aback, Raya didn't fight the grip. The fervent passion in Amina's voice trembled like a taut string. Her bared teeth were oddly reminiscent of Corvin's expression when he'd snapped at her by the boundary, when he'd called her a coward—when he'd blamed the destruction the mages caused for his lost home. It was a jarring comparison.

Amina's curling fingers dragged over Raya's chest. "Our city is blessed." Her amber eyes narrowed. "And you will take me back there."

Wrapping a hand around Amina's wrist, Raya tried to gently peel the girl's hand away, keeping her voice reasonably soft. She didn't want any kind of argument, but she couldn't let this escalate into a fight. "Amina, you know I can't—"

Amina's shove stole her breath. Abruptly released, she staggered a pace backward, touching the crumpled portion of her shirt. Amina's rage still sparked around her. She swung an icily familiar object: Raya's dust pouch, the same colour as the shadier parts of the surrounding dunes, cloth choker limp and squeezed in her shaking grip. In a clumsy flourish, she stuck her other hand into it and drew out a shimmering pinch. Prismatic flecks scattered in a loose ring and swirled in the same sudden, dry breeze that lifted her curls.

Her eyes flashed. "Take me home."

Fear tickled Raya's spine, but it was distant. The pity returned, sharp and sour, and it washed over all else, pulling on a sigh. It came with a realisation. Threat boiled in Amina's gaze, but there was a tremble in her legs, a desperation dragging through her tone. Much as she acted like something tougher, she was only a child. Raya knew what it was to be a child with too much weight on her shoulders. With so much blatant power, Amina must've experienced that weight tenfold.

Even her anger was fragile. It broke in the next moment as her eyes widened, flicking past Raya's shoulder. Raya's glance followed just as the rumble of a popping growl found her ears. Having noticed the threat, Meag had risen and crept their way, and now stood as a protective barrier arched at Raya's back. One black eye swivelled Amina's way as she showed her fangs.

Raya's pulse fluttered. Holding out a hand behind her she prayed would still the agitated beast, she did her best to level Amina's split gaze. "I can't," she said more firmly. "I can't make Meag fly any more now I know she's hurt, and people will have too many questions when we return." And I'm not done here. It was hopelessly selfish, but it was true. She had something to find—something she'd brushed upon that night under the stars she needed to chase.

Her guilt had a life of its own, but much as it writhed, it stayed low, squashed into the uncomfortable recesses of her core. She held out a second placating hand towards Amina. "Don't threaten me, please. I really am sorry, but you must calm down."

There was an odd comfort to the steady warmth she felt at her back. She was glad at least that Meag seemed to trust her, much as she wished the beast would hide her fangs. Amina, however, backed up another step, tense as a cornered beast herself as if ready to spring, though she didn't act. The fight hadn't left her, but her bunched shoulders were stiff now, and fear bled easily through her fierce mask. She opened her hand, and the dust scattered harmlessly amongst the sand.

Raya tried for a smile. She followed slowly and unpicked Amina's grip on the pouch, extracting it with a few tugs and nudges. Amina's breath hitched when their fingers brushed against one another. Once they were separate, she curled the now-empty hand towards her as if the brief touch had burned.

There were tears in her eyes, bright as the shine of liquid gold. "Why did you bring me here?"

The pouch knocked against Corvin's flute as it slid into Raya's pocket. She fingered the instrument, stirred it around, feeling her smile fade. "You got in my way."

The sentiment pooled sadly around them both, and Raya heard the unintended malice one might interpret within too late. She winced, knowing the damage was done.

Amina shifted her face away. A curtain of hair shielded her expression as she reached up to toy with its frizzy waves, working on detangling the golden jewellery caught in them. She stole one last glance at Raya—a wounded, burning look that seethed the same way as a strong sunset's reflection in water—before turning her back completely and shuffling to the far end of the short rise of sand they stood upon. She took a seat at the edge, knees tucked to her chin and fingers still shakily winding through her hair, and Raya didn't attempt to interfere. Her relief had a bittersweet tang. This was hardly a problem solved. Amina's silence had a bite, and it stung of fear and hate.

Raya found herself toying with her own hair, flattening it, fingers prowling restlessly until they discovered one of the two straight locks that remained long. It dangled past her ear, swaying in the corner of her eye. She wound it over and over around her finger, pulling until the joint ached, while she scanned the horizon without purpose.

This had all been so much easier with Corvin by her side.

Meag's wet nose bumped her elbow. She jumped, instantly fighting to calm the skitter of her pulse, making herself process the gentle depths of the beast's abyssal gaze before reaching out a hand towards her snout. With a snort that warmed Raya's skin, she bumped against it, allowing Raya to pat the bristly fur. A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips, though it never truly rose.

She sank her fingers more deeply into the fur and fought not to glance over her shoulder. "I feel wicked," she murmured, hanging her head. Her tongue felt heavy. "Am I in the wrong?"

She longed to hear someone disagree, but Meag wasn't a helpful conversation companion. As good as deaf to the words, she nudged at Raya's hand again, sand clouding around her shifting forefeet. A keening whine rolled in her throat. She further bent her head to butt her nose into Raya's thigh. The touch was harmless, Raya reminded herself, though she still gasped when the force of it made her stumble. It left the area around her pocket faintly damp.

She touched the pocket protectively and felt the cylinder indent of Corvin's flute. Curious, she retrieved it. Meag let out a huff as soon as it was within view, her wings twitching at her sides. The injured one hung at a sharply awkward angle, feathers ragged and still wet with blood.

Raya bit the inside of her cheek and dragged her gaze from the sight, rolling the flute over in her hand instead. Meag's gaze tracked it with dark intensity. Excitement? It felt more purposeful than that. A chill trickled down Raya's spine.

Lifting the flute, she asked, "Does this remind you of Corvin?"

If nothing else, Meag knew the sound of his name. As soon as the light, hollow syllables left her tongue, the beast's tiny ears pricked, standing on end as two slim triangles lost amid her mess of fur. Her whine was softer this time. It had a stringy, mournful quality, deepening when she twisted her head to gesture with her nose at something beyond her flicking tail. The desert rolled on to a red horizon. There was nothing to see, but Raya's mind pulled pieces from the emptiness, scribbling a conclusion that tightened her chest.

"Corvin," she repeated in a whisper, taking note of the responding shuffle of Meag's feet. She was unsettled, unhappy. "You're missing him."

Meag lowered her head. With a snort, she slid by Raya's side, then curled around, trotting an anxious arc that led her up the slight incline. She kept her gaze on the horizon. She made a dim, mucky silhouette, poised, waiting.

"You're worried about him," Raya guessed.

The beast's cry was confirmation enough. It rang through the stillness, trembling like a growl but pitched high enough to pluck Raya's heartstrings. Curling her hand around the flute, she clasped it to her chest, letting her heart beat against it.

"Something's wrong," she breathed. If Meag was worried, it meant Corvin was in trouble, and it made sense. If his beast had been so badly injured, he should've been by her side. He should be searching for her now, at least, but he gave no answer to her call.

Lifting her chin, Raya straightened, shrugging back her cloak so that it fluttered behind her. She hoped that would shove her fear out of view. She owed everything to Corvin, and she was lost without him. Whatever it meant facing, she would have to save him.

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