“You’re not what I expected,” Cion said after finally catching his breath.

“Why? Because I’m faster than you?”

He scoffed. “Because you actually might know how to have fun.”

The heat from the sun weighed down my chest. “It was different when my mother was alive. She would show me how to paint with colored sand, and she’s the one who taught me to dance. She could make the most beautiful sand arc with her foot and trace the most intricate shapes. My feet were always too big for my body.”

“You mean you weren’t born with a sword in your hand?” He said it lightly, because there was no way he could know what my past was like. Especially since I’d never told anyone. There’d never been anyone to tell. At least not anyone who’d care.

“My father didn’t speak to me until after my mother died. I was the daughter he never should have had. It wasn’t until after she died that he took notice of me.” I sighed. “But that was only because I was his last chance to hold on to the monarchy.”

He sat up and looked down at me. “Then why did you stay and fight for him?”

I sat up as well and swirled the end of my sandal through the sand. “I thought my father cared, and that was why he wanted me to train so hard. Plus, I promised my mother I would watch over her people.” I met his eyes.

It was surprising how easily we could talk about anything now. I’d thought all those days ago that we didn’t have anything in common. But we’d both suffered under my father, and neither of us had let it break us. We’d both been raised as if we were orphans, our training driving us onward. We both wanted to save our people. No, Cion and I were more alike than I ever imagined. And if there was anyone in this whole desert I wanted to be like, it was him.

Besides, his obvious strength with a sword, his underlying kindness for those he met, his willingness to give them everything he could, made me want to do better. To be better. When I was with him, I finally felt like I was living up to my mother’s expectations. It was more than that though. I finally felt like me. Not a princess, not my father’s puppet, not Rodric’s tiger on a leash. Me.

He studied me a moment before offering me his hand and pulling me to my feet. “Then let’s make sure you can fulfill that promise to your mother.”

“Right,” I said, playfully nudging him, “we wouldn’t want the vultures getting any ideas if we laid here any longer.”

“Very funny,” he said, unable to hide his smile. He pulled out another blindfold and tossed it to me. “Again.”

By the time we collapsed from thirst, the sun had risen nearly to its peak. We slowly walked back across the hills, Cion and I trading the stories we remembered about our mothers.