“No doubt one of the empty ones,” he said. “I’m tired of empty wells and empty promises.”

Things weren’t going the way I’d thought. I knew there’d be some opposition, but I’d assumed they’d want to bring Rodric down. And now that I had sword blades trapping me in the sand, any chance of escape was receding.

My instinct was to place Cion off balance. But I wasn’t in a great position to get enough strength behind the blow. Maybe go for the knee? But what would that accomplish? If I wanted his help, I couldn’t attack.

“I’m not like Rodric,” I said instead. “I care about the people.”

“You care?” Cion looked around to see if anyone at all seemed to believe me. Several of the Desert Boys scoffed. “Where were you when Rodric enacted stricter punishments for anyone caught stealing water each time the water levels dropped? Where were you when more sickness could be found in the city than sand? Where were you when the poor and elderly needed help rebuilding their walls after the sandstorms finally blew them in? Where was your ‘care’ when we were cast out because of your father’s two-child rule? Where were you when we became orphans and had no other choice but to steal to survive?”

“You’re a skilled fighter,” I said through gritted teeth. “You could have become a palace guard.”

Cion shook his head. “I would never work for that man. Not even with the extra water rations they get. And if I did, who would raise the other orphans? Who would teach them to survive? Who would supply them with the extra water they need?”

Listening to Cion defend his actions spread a fire through my body. Nobody had much water, and his kind and their greed was only making it worse for everyone else. “If you didn’t steal water, there’d be enough for everyone. My father wouldn’t have to keep cutting rations.”

Cion’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. I watched as his muscles snapped to attention under his skin.

I tensed, expecting a blow. His arm twitched, but no attack came.

Instead, faster than I could react, Cion crouched over me, grabbed my arm, and clapped a shackle over it. He tried to force me to roll over by twisting my arm back.

Panic welled up within me.

I contorted and fought against his grip, which loosened the sand holding the sword pinning me down. Cion’s hand darted out to catch it before the hilt could crash into his temple, giving me the chance to rip my hand free. I didn’t know where my sword had landed, so I swung the only weapon I had, the yet-unfettered end of the shackle. It crashed into Cion’s head, sending him and the sword sprawling into the dune. I shifted my weight quickly and knelt atop him. I tore his sword away and pointed it at his neck just as he opened his eyes and looked at me. Surprise flashed across his face while blood trickled out from a cut at his scalp.