His used to hum while she tended the fire. Mine was always tracing some pattern with her foot under the table at big feasts when she thought no one was looking. I used to make a game of trying to guess what she spelled.

And both our mothers had instilled in us the old saying, “When bouncing sand blows, a sandstorm grows.”

“My mother used to huddle us inside during sandstorms,” Cion said. “We’d sit there, and she’d make up the most amazing stories for us. She talked so loudly we couldn’t even hear the wind.”

“Mine read to me when the sandstorms came. I’d curl up in her lap and look at the gilded pages. Books were her favorite thing after sand dancing.”

Cion smiled down at me, genuinely interested, as we walked easily in step. I caught myself returning the smile.

It was nice to finally have someone to talk to about my mother, someone who missed theirs like I did mine. My father never allowed me to bring her up. And it was comforting to know the memories were still there, that the more I talked, the more I remembered—like that she often smelled of sweet jasmine or how she’d pluck the flowers off the garden cacti to wear in her hair. Sometimes I’d even catch her giving out the flowers to the thin, dirty hands stuck through the back gate, along with a few coins and the water she’d secretly disperse.

She’d be proud of me now. Win or lose in the arena, she’d be proud.

And I had Cion to thank for that, for showing me how I needed to truly help my people. For showing me who I could be.

I was about to ask him what stories his mother used to tell him when we heard voices.

We froze. Cion crouched down and crept up a dune. I followed after him.

A few dunes away, Rodric stood with several soldiers.

“They like to hide in caves hidden under the sand dunes,” Rodric said. “Use your spear like this.” He demonstrated by ramming one into the sand over and over again. “If you hit rock, alert me.” He tossed the spear back to the nearest soldier. “Spread out.”

The men fanned out across the surrounding hills and started jabbing their spears into the earth.

Cion and I slid back down the hill so as not to be seen by the soldier who’d picked the next hill over.

Cion motioned for me to follow. We crept backward, clinging to the shadows of the dune. There was no way we could get over the next sandbank without Rodric seeing us.

And after running across the plateau, I wasn’t sure my legs would carry me much farther if we had to make a run for it, which was the better option than facing Rodric with soldiers at his back.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

Before Cion could answer, a shriek echoed across the sand.

My heart leapt in my chest.