I watched for the trail indicating a wave and threw myself forward. I stopped watching my feet and kept my eyes on the waves. Still, sand juggled and tossed under me as I fought to maintain my balance. Every time I fell, I rolled and launched myself up before the swirling sand could suck me down.

I sped to the right on one wave before spotting another forming in front of me. I spun so I could ride that one. Ripples appeared before me; I realized just in time it indicated a cactus. I brought my sword up and cut off a portion of one of its arms.

As more cacti appeared in the surf, I worked my way toward them, imagining Rodric’s face on each one. I sliced off tops and severed spines with each pass. I became lost in the dance of the waves. I’d partner with one before spinning to follow the path of the next one. Hot breath pulsed against my mask as I exhaled.

Even when I did stumble and sand clogged my lungs and filled my ears, I didn’t go crawling back to Cion. I kept going, kept fighting.

I allowed the waves to finish what the initiation ceremony started, to wash away all traces of the palace. I let it claim me, make me part of itself like it had Tamlin. I belonged to the desert now.

I didn’t know how long I stayed in the waves, but by the time I emerged, Cion lounged on the side of one of the dunes the wind left untouched, his hands clasped behind his head. The sun was nearly to its peak.

Sweat glistened across my face and arms as I took off the mask and tossed it to him. My legs were too shaky to hold me. I collapsed next to him.

He caught the mask and sat up. “If I didn’t know any better,” he said, “I would think you were raised out there in those hills.”

I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. I’d been raised far from the coarse sand that ground into your skin with every rush of wind. I’d grown up behind sturdy walls that kept the sand out.

I couldn’t imagine what Cion’s upbringing had been like. Achrans were known for being able to adapt to anything. But you couldn’t truly adapt to a lack of water—always wondering if there’d be enough or when you’d run out. How many people had he watched die of thirst because of this drought? A thirst I was now experiencing for the first time.

My father had always said we didn’t have to conserve water, that in order to rule we needed to be hydrated so we could think, plan, protect. He said a few buckets wasn’t going to make much difference. But after seeing what I had at the well and being out here, we should’ve been rationing along with everyone else. And I planned to bring that up to him, to open his eyes to what we’d both been too focused to see, once I won my crown.