“I told you what a yellow-spotted sand snake hole looked like,” Rodric’s voice cried.

“Go,” Cion whispered.

We dashed for the next hill, crouching low. I threw a glance over my shoulder. All the men converged into one of the valleys, where a man was screaming in pain.

“You two, get him back to town,” Rodric commanded. “Then you better return immediately.”

Cion and I dashed over several more dunes, using the screams to cover our movement.

The cries grew more distant as the man was taken away. Men started climbing back up onto the hilltops with their spears.

Thankfully, none of them glanced toward where we were. They were all looking too closely at their feet, at the sand around them.

We moved diagonally back the way we’d come. Only after the men were well out of sight did we start angling toward the hideout. To mask our footsteps and ensure we left no trail, our route took us farther out into the desert.

My throat burned, my feet ached, and my legs were numb by the time we finally reached the hideout. But I reminded myself it was nothing compared to what would happen if Rodric found me.

He was bringing more men out into the desert, becoming more desperate.

That made him more dangerous.

CHAPTER

23

The next few days were a blur of training. We stuck to the hideout because too many guards had been spotted in the desert. It also wasn’t safe for the boys to go in and out as they used to.

It wasn’t long until everyone found the cave stifling, and water began to run low. We’d have to do another raid soon, but according to Cion’s sources, Rodric had increased the number of guards around each well and started doing random patrols along the old, crumbling city wall. At least we hadn’t heard more about the wells being cut off entirely.

Cion left me in the care of the younger boys while he went out to scout and talk to his source. We practiced sword maneuvers. Some of the boys were surprisingly good despite their small size and emaciated frames. I’d take them over the palace guards any day.

On the days Cion was there, he and I would eventually end up facing each other, attracting a ring of boys around us, which spurred Cion to fight harder so as to not make a fool of himself. Occasionally the boys rooted for me, but I think that was simply because they liked seeing someone who could go blow for blow with Cion. Though I never could beat him.

But I was getting better. Even if I couldn’t always stop his attacks, I could tell when he was actually going to hit me and when he was feinting to aim at my other side. Fighting without a shield was starting to feel more natural as well.

Most nights, I fell into my blanket exhausted and woke up with sore reminders of muscles I didn’t know I had. I’d fall asleep listening to the sound of footsteps shuffling through the sand outside my room. I learned to pick out Cion’s from all the rest. His were the quietest.