It was a three days' flight from the pyramids to the Qazri Lagoon at the eastern coast. Since Rabyatt hadn't told Inna where he had spent his time with the merfolk, she and Arran had chosen to travel to the most popularly known residence of a merfolk tribe. So far, so good, the weather was hot and dry and, contrary to camels, the carpet never tired or needed water, which allowed them to cover vast distances in one day.

It would have been a relatively comfortable journey but for the tension in Arran's back and the strained conversations during meals.

He was upset. So was she, for that matter, and it made her want to yell at him to man up and not to make this solely about him. However, she knew his distress was not merely caused by Ezahar's revelations about her godly descent, but by all those tiny puzzle pieces thrown together into a chaotic mess. Imprisoned gods. The mysterious Cult of Idran. Their new hope of a cure for Arran's curse, but not without freeing Onshra first. Nevertheless, she had been hurt when he ran away from her in the pyramid. And she had no idea how to break this new barrier between them.

You're both overthinking this, Zazi admonished her. Inna shivered when the snake's smooth scales grazed the inside of her wrist. While you're fretting over a way to approach him, he's over there biting his nails for the same reason.

She scowled. If you're really so wise, O great queen of snakes, why can't you bring back your memories?

Because there are none.

Inna heaved a soft sigh. Since Ezahar's animal symbol was a snake, she suspected that Zazi had been one of the goddess's loyal servants before a soul had been transferred into her body. Now they just had to figure out whose soul.

The glaring light of high noon shone down on them. The back of Inna's neck was soaked in sweat, drenching her hair. She gathered it in a bun on top of her head and wound her thin shawl loosely around her head to protect her skin. The heat made her sleepy, yet she forced herself to stay alert. She still hadn't forgotten about the last time they had attempted to cross the desert.

A flash of green caught her eye. Squinting, she searched the horizon and spotted a small oasis—a murky pond shaded by a couple of palm trees. When the isolated piece of paradise didn't disappear like a mirage as they came closer, she steered the carpet down.

"We'll stop here to take a break," she informed Arran over her shoulder. "We can rest in the shade until the sun starts lowering and travel through the night. It's too hot to keep going."

"Good for me."

She ground her teeth. Only one spark was needed to set the smoldering embers of her frustration on fire, and she longed to let them burn. She managed to keep her lips pressed together until they had landed, but one look at Arran's distant expression was enough to ignite the fuel.

"That's it. I'm sick of it."

He looked up, startled at the expression on her face. "Of what?"

"You."

He blinked, then his cheeks reddened as his own rage fought its way to the surface. "What have I done this time?"

She stepped forward until their chests nearly touched and prodded his shoulder with her finger. "You've hardly spoken a word to me since we left the pyramids. I understand that you feel like your life has gone to hell in the last few weeks, but you know what, so has mine. You're not the only one neck-deep in trouble here."

"Is this the part where you start preaching about the hardship of being a princess?" He faked a yawn. "Been there, done that."

Bastard. She tackled him. He grunted as he landed hard on his back in the sand and the air was pushed out of his lungs. She dropped to her knees so that she straddled him, trapping him between her thighs. Her fists trembled with the effort of not launching them at his face.

"I know it's hard, all right?" She slammed a hand into the sand inches from his head. He flinched. "I've done nothing but worrying since we left Primsharah. About my father. About you. About myself. Do you think I'm not upset by what Ezahar said? Do you think my world hasn't been turned upside down as well?"

"Oh yes, it must be terrible to find out you have the blood of a goddess," he sneered. "I feel your pain. Mine too, considering I'll have to put up with your inflated ego."

Her entire body stilled. White-hot fury crawled underneath her skin, a wild beast on the verge of devouring everything in its path. "Excuse me?"

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "You bear yourself like everyone is supposed to worship the ground on which you walk. I can only imagine what it'll be like now that your relation to Ezahar is revealed. Don't expect me to swoon in your presence, princess. You're still the same spoiled girl to me."

She curled her hand around his throat, but he only laughed. The rage in his eyes had shifted to another, deeper emotion, far more dangerous. One of his hands drifted up to her shawl and tugged at it. Her hair came loose, falling down around their faces in a cocoon that blocked out the rest of the world.

She suddenly became aware of how close they were. A vein pulsed a frantic rhythm beneath her fingers and she stroked it with her thumb. Keeping her voice sweet and innocent, she said, "If you're really so disgusted with me, then why is your heart beating so fast?" His eyes widened just a fraction. "Liar."

Without allowing herself to think this through, she lowered her head and pressed her lips on his.

He stiffened. For a second, she worried that he would shove her away. But then he melted into her, biting her lower lip hard enough to sting. She responded by sweeping her tongue into his mouth, and they both moaned so loud that the sound startled the birds drinking from the pond.

They poured their previous anger toward each other into hard, hungry kisses. One of Arran's hands buried itself into Inna's hair, winding the locks around his wrist to pull her even closer, while the other explored the curve of her spine. All thoughts vanished from her head as Arran filled her senses. Every touch of his fingers, every caress of his tongue fueled the fire between them until it singed the air and set the world ablaze.

In one quick movement, he rolled both of them over so that he lay on top of her, with one leg thrust between hers. She ground her hips against him, which elicited another groan from him. His hand had slipped beneath the hem of her qamisa and grazed her stomach, traveling higher at an excruciatingly slow pace. His lips traced her jaw, her neck, down to her collarbone, where his teeth scraped against the muscle between her neck and shoulder.

She dug her fingers into his muscled back and tilted her head back to give him better access to her throat. She remembered the voice of a fortune teller, whose name she had temporarily forgotten, whispering promises of a passionate love at the back of her mind. Well, Inna didn't know about the love part, but the passion she felt for the man in her arms burned hot enough to sear her skin. She hadn't realized how much she wanted this, wanted him.

She twined her fingers in his hair to pull his mouth back to her lips. He glanced up at her, eyes half-lidded with dilated pupils, lips red and swollen, cheeks flustered. His hair was tousled from running her hands through it again and again. He was so beautiful she wanted to stare at him forever.

She grinned. "See? You do worship me."

"Shut up," he mumbled, and his mouth crashed down on hers once more.

This kiss was slower, sweeter. She felt drunk, on him, on his taste, on the lazy thrusts of his tongue. Like an addict, she craved for more and clung to him as though he kept her from falling off a cliff into the uncharted waters of her heart. Or maybe they jumped together.

She had no idea how much time had passed when he tore his lips away a second time. His breathing came hard and uneven as he looked down at her. "I'm sorry," he panted.

Her head swam, and the proof of his excitement pressing against their tangled legs formed too great a distraction. "What?"

"I'm sorry for being such a jerk with you. I guess I just needed to give vent to my frustration." A sheepish expression crossed his face.

She huffed out a laugh. "You just did."

He stared at her as if he was starved to the bones and she was the meal that could save him from certain death. A pleasant, insistent warmth spread to her lower belly. She reached up to tug him back to her, but he grabbed her fingers and laced them together with his own. He pressed a kiss on their joined hands.

"No matter how much I'd love to ... worship you, princess, perhaps the desert at high noon is not the most suitable place to do so." An amused chuckle escaped his lips when she rolled her eyes. "Besides, I've been feeling dizzy all day. In fact, our little skirmish has made it worse."

The desire throbbing between her legs ebbed away. She sat up straight, inspecting him from head to toe. "Are you all right? Why didn't you warn me before I threw myself at you?"

He cracked an impish grin. "Because you wouldn't have kissed me if I had."

She hit him playfully on his arm. "You're nothing but trouble, aren't you, Arran?"

"Not half as much as you are, princess." He sounded like he meant it too.

She scooted over to create more space between them. She couldn't breathe with him so close to her. "Maybe it's the heat in combination with the curse. We're in the deepest part of the desert; it never gets this hot in Primsharah. Splash some water into your face, that might help."

While he dragged himself to the pond, she hauled herself to her feet and walked to the palm trees to set up a relaxing spot in their shadows. Zazi had already half buried herself in the sand. Inna thought she was napping, but the snake's eyes flew open at her approach.

I'm glad you two finally got some of that restless energy out of your system.

Her cheeks burned up. "Have you been watching us?"

Zazi hissed, which almost sounded like a chortle. No, but you kept moaning Arran's name. It was hard to ignore.

How embarrassing. Gathering the shards of her broken dignity, she sank down cross-legged onto the carpet and prayed to Amalia for respite. However, considering the goddess of love belonged to the ten gods who had been locked up in a World Artifact, she probably wouldn't hear her.

When Arran returned several minutes later, he looked refreshed. He stretched out onto the sand like a cat and folded his arms behind his head, his eyes closed. The movement made his shirt ride up, exposing his dark skin. "I've been thinking," he began. "I think I know how to free Onshra."

Her mouth formed a small O. "What? How?"

He shrugged, though his mouth tightened. "It was something Ezahar said, about a sacrifice needed to free him. As a djinn, Onshra is technically my servant, and a servant can only be set free when their master releases them. Since using up my three wishes will only send him back into the Amulet, waiting for his next master, another possibility is that I sacrifice my third wish for his freedom."

Could it really be that simple? She had been too preoccupied with Arran's silence lately to give it much thought. "Then why haven't you made your last wish yet?"

His eyes opened to narrow, turquoise slits. Stripped of its usual glint of mischief, his gaze reflected a whirlpool of emotions. "Because we may still need the djinn's help. You and I both know that we'll have to return to Primsharah eventually, Inna. And we both know what's waiting for us there: Rabyatt and his Cult, pursuing the Amulet. If we want to save our city and keep the world's doom out of their hands, we'll have to break their hold over the Shah and drive them back to the desert. Or even kill them."

"Arran, don't pretend to be such a selfless, self-sacrificing fool."

He burst out laughing. "You know me so well."

Her brow quirked. "You may be right, though. Godly power or not, I doubt my magic is enough to fight the Cult. We don't know how many sorcerers they have already recruited and their spies may be all over the city. As soon as we get back, the news of our return will reach their ears too." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Then I'll just have to keep you alive long for you to hand over the Amulet to me so that I can free Onshra myself."

His gaze softened. "You really are determined to save me, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

He grimaced. "Yes."

She studied him out of the corner of her eye, the crinkle between his eyebrows, the shadows under his eyes. On an impulse, she cupped his chin to turn his head toward her. He answered her gaze with breathless anticipation. "Are you ready to go back?" she asked quietly.

A flicker of disappointment, quickly replaced by consternation. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated. "By then, your mother and sister won't have seen you in just under a month. What will you tell them when the curse starts affecting you for the worse?"

He pushed himself up, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. "The truth. Even if I don't plan to die, I still might. Though, I don't think my mother's heart could bear the possibility of another loss. Not after ..."

"Your father," she completed his sentence. "Whom she doesn't know is still alive and well in Rasir."

"With a new mistress, at that." He pressed his knuckles against his eyes. "Gods, I can't break her heart again. She's suffered enough."

She licked her lips. "Do you have any idea who may have hidden your father's letters from your family?"

He shook his head. "I've racked my brain until it nearly bled out of my ears, but I can't come up with anyone who may have had a motive for hiding them."

Biting her lip, she averted her gaze to stare at the small, colorful birds hopping around the pond's shore. She probably shouldn't speak her suspicions aloud, but there had hardly been any secrets between them from the start. Now she owed him the one thing she hadn't dared tell him up until this moment. "Could it have been Zohra?"

His head snapped up, his eyes large and wary. "Don't be ridiculous, Inna. I've known Zohra almost my entire life. She would never deliberately inflict pain on my family."

"Are you sure? Because she and I had an interesting conversation about you while you were busy robbing Onshra's temple." His whole body tensed as if he braced himself for the final blow that would shatter his mental sanity. Guilt washed over her, but she had to press onward. "Since she's a fortune teller, have you never wondered what she saw for your future?"

"Just get to the point, Inna."

"She knew you were going to steal the Amulet long before you agreed to it, and she didn't stop you. Despite the curse. Strangely enough, she argued that you had to be cursed to have a chance to live." She paused to take a deep breath. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest when Arran's eyes darkened. "She claimed every other future she had seen for you ended in an untimely death."

He balled his hands into fists. "What has any of that to do with my father's letters?"

"If your mother had received those letters, she would have dropped everything to move to Rasir to be with him, am I right? Taking Adira and you with her." He dropped his gaze. "Zohra said that you could only live past your twenty-fifth birthday if I helped you survive for so long. Don't look at me like that—those were her exact words. Anyway, if you had left Primsharah, you would never have stolen the Amulet and we would never have met. It may be twisted, but if she truly believes that stealing your father's letters might keep you alive, that sounds like a good motive to me. She loves you, and people do all kinds of things for the ones they love."

He was silent for a long time after that. Zazi curled around his wrist to catch his attention, but he had retreated into the deepest corners of his mind. When he spoke at last, his voice was thick with betrayal. "I believe you, but to accuse her of breaking my family apart on purpose ... Why did you never mention any of this?"

A sad, lopsided smile curved her lips. "How could I, Arran? I didn't want you to lose hope any more than you already had." His fingers trembled, so she curled her own around them. "You're right, let's not accuse anyone without further proof. We'll hear her out when we get back."

"She's wrong, you know," he murmured, so softly she had to strain her ears to hear him. "I used to think my life in the Copper District was a punishment for whatever sins my ancestors had committed. I was determined to get out and deemed it worth the risk of laying my life on the line. But I don't believe that anymore."

Inna angled her head, but didn't dare interrupt him. He squeezed her hand. His eyes were lighter when they locked with hers.

"Because now I know what it's like to balance on the edge of death. And I have plenty of reasons to live."