I’d spent endless nights poring over the books looking for details that hinted at a location where the Desert Boys could hide or that talked about creatures I’d need to avoid. Most volumes were too vague or only mentioned the creatures you could find within the city walls.

The only one who’d written anything useful was Tamlin.

In the one book he had written, Tamlin had drawn a map through the desert. The only problem was that the few men brave enough to use it never made it out of the desert alive, and the one caravan my father had sent that way had also been lost.

I flipped through the pages until I landed on the crudely drawn map. A line snaked across the page toward the city of Hartirm on the other side. I traced the route with my finger. There were no other landmarks on the map, no explanations for why the line dipped here or turned there, nothing of note at all but that line weaving its way across the page.

It was better than nothing. I took a deep breath and ripped it out.

Next, I raided the only clothing I’d left untouched in my wardrobe—my gladiator gear. I pulled out a fresh tunic and new sandals, then slid the leather overlay over my head, settling the pleats into place over the tunic. I took out a black cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders. I tied an empty water skin to my belt and belted my sword around my waist before sliding two daggers into the high straps of the new sandals.

Hopefully the weapons would serve me better in the desert than they would have against Rodric.

I tucked the map into my belt.

I returned to the balcony and surveyed my kingdom for the last time. I would miss sitting there watching the sands perform their golden dance, a reminder of the sand dancing lessons my mother had given me as a child, and what I believed was her way of letting me know she was still watching over me, reminding me I was the desert’s choice and worthy to be queen.

I shoved the thought away that the desert had instead sent Rodric to us. That I had never been strong enough to beat him because I was never meant to take the throne.

Instead I focused on the fact I’d already beaten eleven suitors. I was strong enough to rule. I’d practiced every day since my mother died to be powerful enough, to be what she hoped.

I still remembered the last conversation I had with her. She’d been in the early stages of labor. At the time, she’d been certain she was going to have another girl. My mother sent her servants away and hoisted me onto the small portion of her lap not covered by her swollen belly. Sweat dotted her body.

“Kateri,” she said, stroking my hair, “soon you will have a sister. And if that’s the case, you’ll have solidified your place as our next queen.”