He shook his head. “I came up here the night Remy died, and there weren’t any shooting stars. Everything was as still and lifeless as his body had been.”

“So you don’t think the stars mean anything,” I ventured. I looked over at him, but he was only looking up.

“The first night I came out here to be a Desert Boy, I saw a shooting star. And to me, it meant that I was on the right path. That’s what I believe now. That they show you when you’re going in the direction you were meant to follow.”

I’d never heard that explanation before. But I liked it. “So you think those two we just saw mean we’re both on the right path.”

“I hope so,” he said.

Sand whispered silently around us. Cutting us off from the world.

“I always come here when I think about Remy,” Cion said quietly. “This was our spot. I’ve never brought anyone else here before. Not even Dimic.”

I studied him. “Why me, then?”

He was silent for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer. “I feel like you understand loss the same way I do. That you feel it as deeply as I do. Tonight, you let it show. I know it must kill you inside to have discovered what you did about your own father. I thought you might want a place to be alone with your thoughts.”

He was mostly right. Except for the being alone part. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how alone I’d been all my life. No mother. A father who didn’t love me. Not even a sibling to share the burden with.

“I think it’s easier,” I said, “never having known my . . . sister. And I was always so busy trying to impress my father that there was never any time to truly love him.”

“Were you lonely in the palace?” Cion picked up a handful of sand and let it slowly drain from his palm.

“No.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know what loneliness was back then. That’s just how life was. But now . . .” I met his eyes. “Now that I’ve seen what it’s like to have people care about you, I would be.”

“Well, you can always find a Desert Boy in the dungeon,” he said, only half joking.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “For what my father’s done to you. For what Rodric’s done to you. For what I’ve done to you.” I pictured the day Dimic was in the arena, how I wanted so badly for a tiger to tear him apart. How I wanted to tear him apart.

I clutched at the sand around me. “Sometimes I’m glad my mother is dead so she can’t see what I’ve become, how I’ve treated her people.”

“She’d be proud if she saw you now,” he replied. “You’re going to beat Rodric. You’re going to save our people.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him. Not yet. “Would you disband the Desert Boys then?” I asked.