The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 26: A Line Crossed

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.