There was no way I’d ask my father to train me again. Not now. And there wouldn’t be time to bring another trainer in on the caravans.

That left me back where I started, with no plan and no allies. This wasn’t how I’d pictured going into my last fight.

But it wouldn’t be a fight. It would be a massacre, and whatever Rodric did to me in the arena would be a dream compared to what he’d do after we married. The thought made the scars on my neck prickle.

What could I do?

Escape. The word whispered through my thoughts.

I turned to look out over the rolling desert.

Could I? But where could I go? I’d be found in the town, I couldn’t take one of the caravans, and I’d die in the desert on my own with all the sandstorms and no water.

Or would I?

I pulled myself up the railing, not taking my eyes from the shifting sands that zigzagged all the way to the horizon.

Hadn’t Tamlin run across it without water and lived to tell the tale? Hadn’t he avoided all its traps? Hadn’t I always thought that I was Tamlin in a way?

I’d always put honor and strength above everything. Would I prove I wasn’t my father’s daughter if I ran away? Wasn’t I failing him and demonstrating I wasn’t strong enough to rule?

Or had I already shown I wasn’t the desert’s choice? Isn’t that why he’d thrown his lot in with Rodric?

He didn’t think I was worthy. He didn’t think I could win.

I’m not sure which hurt worse.

A part of me screamed I should stay and fight Rodric. There was still a chance I could prove my father wrong, that I could show him I was worthy, that I could protect and lead these people like my mother wanted—like I thought my father had wanted. But the other part of me shouted to get away. By staying to fight, I was giving Rodric the easy option while sentencing myself to death. I couldn’t deny him the throne, but I could make sure he didn’t get me in the process. Then, I wouldn’t have to stay and watch as he slowly drained the life out of these people while I was helpless to stop it.

The town spread out below me. Beyond it, the desert waited. I turned away and tossed aside my curtains.

I moved toward my bed and slid my hands between the frame and the mattress, pulling out book after faded book.

My mother had been the only royal to use the library when I was younger. She used to take me there and read me stories of far-off places. I think she enjoyed it more than I did. Probably because she counted her learning to read once she was queen as one of the greatest accomplishments of her life.

My father thought books took too much time away from training. That’s why he destroyed the library a few years after my mother’s death. But not before I’d smuggled out the books I knew would be useful to tracking down her killers. The ones that described lizards in detail or charted the stars in the sky for navigation. I even had one written by Tamlin himself.