Inna had never flown before, but gods, had she missed the pure joy of the wind blowing through her hair and caressing her cheeks. It was worth the tears that streaked her face because she could hardly hold her eyes open at this speed. She loved the feeling of weightlessness and her elevated pulse as she leaned over the edge of the carpet to watch the earth sail by. Zazi enjoyed it as well; she had lifted her head toward the sun, eyes closed in the absolute peace of the moment.

However, Arran didn't share their delight. The slight furrow in his brow and the unnatural rigidity of his posture betrayed his discomfort with flying. A small smile curved her lips, which widened when he caught her gaze.

"Are you all right?"

"Just fine," he answered, shifting his tangled legs.

She studied his tall form, the way he had folded his limbs to fit on the carpet. "You can swing your legs over the edge if you have cramps in your muscles, you know. I'll make sure you don't fall over."

He waved away her offer with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "Don't bother."

Fine. If he'd rather petrify in that position, that was his problem.

She kept her face turned to him, though. The Amulet dangled from his neck, its gleam cold despite the warm, orange rays of the late afternoon sun. The darkness of the djinn's soul inside expanded to Arran's own aura, deepening the shadows at its edges. Her stomach grew heavy as a stone from merely looking at it. How much longer before the first symptoms of the illness lingering under his skin would show?

"What's the point of having access to cosmic powers if you can't use them to take away a stupid curse?" she muttered. Arran had told her every detail of his conversation with the djinn in the dungeons, including the part about the three wishes and their limitations.

He leveled his gaze with hers. "I reckon even a djinn can't interfere with a god's wrath."

She clucked her tongue. "So what are we supposed to do, then? Find the nearest temple dedicated to Onshra and pray until our knees bleed?"

"I don't know." He rubbed his face. "Gods, if my mother could see me now ... She would never let me hear the end of it. For that matter, neither would her rolling pin."

Inna tilted her head. "Rolling pin?"

His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. The dry, hot wind played with the curls in his hair, inviting him to a flirtatious dance to loosen the tension in his body. "Her favorite weapon to threaten me with whenever I've gotten myself into trouble."

"Really?" She laughed. "Sounds like a lovely woman to me. If I got into trouble as a child, my tutors would have me apologize to my victims and that was that." Her smile died on her lips, blown away by the breeze. "You know, I love my father and siblings, but sometimes I feel like an employee in a business rather than a member of a family." His brow quirked, but he said nothing. She lowered her voice, aware that she was about to tread into sensitive territory. "What's your family like?"

For a few seconds, Arran only stared at her. "We're poor."

She quelled the urge to roll her eyes. "So?"

"So?" His eyes burned with white-hot rage, the sharp lines of his nose and jaw somehow even sharper than before. "Poverty ripped my family apart. Every time I look at my mother, all I see in her eyes is disappointment. She keeps rubbing me in the face that my thievery stains my father's memory. Adira, my sister, always tries to conciliate between us, but my mother and I are too much alike, too bitter about the hand life has dealt us. We only have different ways of coping with it." He averted his gaze, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "Yesterday, I let both of them down."

"Arran, you were willing to steal the Amulet of doom to give your family a better life." She extended a hand, but he shielded himself from her touch. She dropped her arm, respecting his need for space. "To me, that's just proof of how much you care about them."

He scoffed. "Honestly, Inna? I thought you liked scolding me so much for being such a complete fool."

"I believe I've expressed my opinion about your foolishness enough already. Yet, that doesn't mean you have to throw out the baby with the bathwater now." A subtle heat spread across her cheeks as she realized she was indeed scolding him again.

He threw a mocking glance her way. "You don't know anything about me."

She begged any god who was listening for patience. Leaning forward, she caught his gaze and used all of her willpower to hold it. "If you had refused, those mind warpers would have found another candidate to steal the Amulet. You were just the deliverer to them, so stop wallowing in your guilt." He glared at her. "Instead of sulking and regretting what can't be undone, you'd better help me fix this."

"See, that's what I don't understand, Inna," he retorted. "Why are you even helping me at all?"

"Not everything's about you, Arran. I have a responsibility to my city."

"Oh, really?" Zazi's eyes shot open at his sharp tone and she let out a warning hiss. Arran ignored her. "If the city's well-being is truly your only motivation, you could easily have coerced me into handing over the Amulet to you when we were still at Zohra's house. Hell, I was ready to give it to you willingly. It might even have bought you some time before the mind warpers realized I no longer had it in my possession. So stop lying to me and tell me the real reason."

Inna pressed her mouth into a thin line. He was right, of course. Guilt was what had driven her to this point, huddled together with him on this flying carpet. Guilt about leaving an innocent man to fend for himself against an enemy whom he couldn't hope to defeat. She refused to admit that Zohra's bold prediction about a possible romance had anything to do with it.

She breathed a long sigh, releasing the anger which had been building up inside her during their argument. "I would never have forgiven myself if I hadn't helped you," she whispered. Without waiting for his response, she turned back around and fixed her gaze on the undulating horizon.

They didn't speak another word for hours after that, not even when they shared a lump of cheese and some dates, or when they stopped to relieve themselves in the sand. Their stubborn silence lasted until Inna urged the carpet into a fast landing. The desert's golden sand surrounded them like the earth's personal treasure, although Inna knew the landscape was as merciless and lethal as it was beautiful. Reaching into her duffel bag, she pulled out the bottle of wine and planted it into the sand so that she would remember which way they had come in the morning. The treacherous sand dunes never stopped moving, which made them a highly untrustworthy reference point with regard to direction.

"You're not going to drink that?" Arran asked, gesturing at the bottle with his chin. His pale face looked like it could use a large sip of wine.

She cracked a hesitant smile. "I'd rather stay sober in the middle of the desert. It's known for its hostility to humans who haven't traveled its grounds before."

A sparkle of light returned to his eyes when he chuckled. "You should become a writer instead of a queen. Half the time you open your mouth, all I hear is poetry coming out of it."

She blinked, taken aback, then threw her head back and laughed out loud. "You make it sound like I'm a pretentious snob."

"You are."

"Right, let's not tar all nobles with the same brush."

He smiled, although he kept his eyes cast down. "That would be hypocritical, considering I've always longed to be one of you."

The tone of their conversation had grown serious once more. Inna considered holding her breath for the rest of the evening not to upset him again. Nevertheless, her curiosity eventually got the upper hand. "Why is that? I remember you saying poverty ripped your family apart. What does that mean?"

He stayed quiet for a long while after that question. She waited several minutes, and her shoulders sagged as she lost hope he would even bother to answer at all. After all, she couldn't expect him to spill his darkest secrets on her when they had only met the day before.

He surprised her, though. "My father was banished for stealing from his boss."

Her mouth dropped open; she couldn't help herself.

He gave her a wry smile. "He worked for a rich merchant in the Bronze District who dealt in spices. The bastard barely gave him a few silver coins a week for all the hard work and the long hours. Then my mother fell sick and we had to rely on his income alone for two weeks ... A slice of bread and some vegetables were the only meal we could afford. So one day, my father decided he'd had enough and robbed his employer. Of course, he was caught before he had the chance to leave the premises."

Arran closed his eyes. Inna scooted closer and rested a comforting hand on his arm, glad when he didn't shrug her off.

"He was imprisoned for two whole weeks before he was brought to trial. We were only allowed to visit him twice, once during his imprisonment and one more time before they put him on a carriage and escorted him out of the city." His voice broke into a stifled sob. Inna looked away from the grief on his face as her own heart shriveled up with a similar loss. She pushed the images of a bright, loving smile and twinkling, amber eyes back to the darkest corners of her mind before they could hurt her.

"Why banish him?" she asked softly. "It was only one incident. Wouldn't the court have demanded a fine instead?"

"The fine they imposed on him was too high, even if we sold our house," he replied, his voice clipped. "So they banished him to the desert instead. My mother lost it; she wanted to go after my father, but he convinced her otherwise because of me and my sister. I reckon he's dead, unless he came across a caravan while wandering the desert, but what are the odds?"

Zazi flicked the tip of her tail across Arran's hand. Inna opened her mouth to say something, but words fell short to express the impact his tale had had on her. How many people had suffered the same abhorrent fate as Arran's father due to a judicial system which handed out punishments left and right, but failed to tackle the root of the issue?

Arran wiped his nose with the back of his hand, regaining his composure. "That's what your city does to poor people like us, princess," he continued in a bitter tone. "They act all surprised when we bite their hand because it refuses to feed us."

The truth in his statement dug its talons into her mind. "Why did you tell me this?"

He looked at her as though she had grown two heads. "You asked, princess."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"And perhaps I also told you because you insist on working together," he interrupted her, "and you would've found out sooner or later anyway. Perhaps I told you because I want you to know what your inheritance as future Shahbano will be, and I hope you can fix that too."

The burden of his words, this hope he cherished, descended onto her shoulders with the weight of a heavy cloak. Yet, she welcomed it, appreciated Arran's candor. Now she would have to prove she was worth it.

Provided that her brainwashed father didn't attempt to hang her for treason first, of course.

Arran spared her the effort of searching for a good answer, raking his fingers through the sand around them. "Are there any scorpions around here which may decide to kill me in my sleep?"

She chortled. One of her hands hovered above the sand while she concentrated, focusing the power of her aura onto the chosen spot. The magic sang in her veins, seduced her into releasing it. It's been so long.

Just a bit longer, then. She had a feeling all that accumulated power would come in handy soon enough.

A red flame sparked in the darkening air and chased away the cold that accompanied the arrival of the moon and stars. "That should keep the scorpions away," she joked, studying him out of the corner of her eye. The fire illuminated his fascinated face.

He caught her staring. "Poverty also robbed me of the chance to develop my magic," he confessed, his low, quiet voice filled with regret.

"Zohra mentioned you have quite some potential," she replied. "If you want, I could teach you the basics. Given our current circumstances, it wouldn't hurt to expand your knowledge on magical powers."

This time when he smiled, his whole face lit up. "I'd like that."

"Me too."

Zazi had curled up against her thigh, snoring at an increasing volume. Inna stroked a loving finger along the snake's scales. At the sight of her sleeping friend, exhaustion hit her with the force of a hammer's blow on the head. Her entire body ached and she pressed her fingers against her eyelids to keep them open.

Arran noticed. "Go to sleep, princess. I'll keep first watch."

"Are you sure?"

He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. "Yes."

"Thank you."

He answered her soft smile with one of his own before turning his attention back to the fire.

The carpet stirred under her when she lay down on it, curling an arm around Zazi. She turned her face up to the night sky so that she would fall asleep with the glowing dots of the first stars imprinted on her memory. Arran hummed a song, a melody she didn't recognize, but she relaxed and allowed her eyes to drift closed.

A nightmare awaited her on the other side of sleep's cloudy veil.