I didn’t move. His footsteps continued. Near and far, left and right, until I could tell the distance. I slowed my breath. I let the sun’s warmth soak into my body as it rose. I let the wind whisper over my skin.

I could smell Cion. Underlying the smell of smoke was the slippery scent of body heat rising against the sweet coolness of the desert breeze. It reminded me of twilight.

“Now come find me,” he whispered. His voice floated on the wind.

I took a step forward, my arms cast out in front of me. I kept walking. Sand sprayed forward with every step. I walked several feet and encountered nothing.

“Wrong way,” Cion said.

His voice came from behind me. I whipped around, but already he was moving. Sand scattered, but I couldn’t tell in what direction.

I started back toward where his voice had come from.

There was the smallest murmur, like an inhale, as sand sunk downward. I raced toward it, but by the time I got there, Cion was gone. And my own loud footsteps had drowned out any hints of where he’d gone.

“Listen harder,” he said from off to my left.

This time I didn’t leap toward the noise. I waited. Sure enough, he began to move. His footsteps were hard to hear above the wind, but there was the smallest crunch where his full weight came down on the sand.

I waited until the noise stopped. I crept forward. I flung my arms out. Nothing. I dropped my hands and balled them into fists. I took one more step forward.

I faltered. There was nothing there. I stamped my foot into the dirt and waited for him to give me another clue as to where he’d moved.

None came.

Maybe he was reclining somewhere, laughing at me going in circles.

“This isn’t working.” I yanked the blindfold up.

To my surprise, Cion stood right in front of me. My nose almost poked into his chest. His face was as close as it’d been last night. So close I blushed at the memory.

He looked down at me, his lips tugging up mischievously at the ends. “Really? I thought you were finally catching on.” There was a softness to his features that wasn’t normally there. I hadn’t seen him this relaxed since I’d met him.

“You were really standing right there?”

He nodded.

A breeze blew across me and then him, confirming why I hadn’t been able to smell him. Though I could feel heat rising from his skin. I wasn’t sure if I should move away. I told myself I didn’t want him to think that I was one to back down.

But it was more than that. Being near him was a welcome warmth. The sun didn’t pound my shadow into the ground quite so fiercely when I was focused on his eyes. Even the coarse sand being whipped against my skin didn’t sting quite as much.

“You should’ve trusted your instincts,” he said. “Rodric’s no doubt spent months teaching you not to, to trust your sword and eyes instead. He’s wrong. Honed instinct is worth more than a honed sword in a fight, and the desert is the best trainer. If you can’t distinguish a yellow-spotted sand snake hole from regular sand, you won’t survive. And if you can’t distinguish one of Rodric’s feints from his real attacks, you won’t win.”