Once, a few years ago, I’d tried to see how long I could go without water, to somehow do my part to help conserve our resources. I’d lasted less than a day before breaking down and chugging nearly the entire pitcher of water in my room. But I hadn’t been afraid then because the water had always been in view, clear and sparkling and waiting.

Out here, it was different. There was no water in sight, and the sun leered down at us, laughing at our foolishness for being out in its heat.

And my body felt it. My muscles pulled tighter against my bones, groaning with every small movement. My brain seemed to be banging up against my skull as though it were still being tossed around in the shifting hills, causing a massive headache. Even the skin on my fingers ached.

What I wouldn’t give for some of Latia’s coconut lotion. No wonder she was always discreetly rubbing the excess on her skin. I couldn’t imagine what my skin would feel like if I’d lived out here as long as Cion. I pulled at the gold cuff around my neck, trying to dig the sand out of it.

“You want me to help you take that off?” Cion asked.

I dropped my hand away from the cuff. “The sand’s not that bad.”

“You’ll get a rash if you let it fester in there.”

The particles were already beginning to itch where they mixed with my sweat, but I didn’t want him to see the cuts on my neck. “It’s fine.”

“I’m not going to steal it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

I shook my head.

He shrugged. “It’s your neck.” He hoisted himself to his feet and brushed sand from his pants. “We should get back before the sun gets any higher.”

I nodded and followed him over the dune, my legs still shaking and threatening to collapse under me. I did my best to hide it, to prove to Cion I wasn’t weak.

“Watch out for that spiral cactus,” Cion said.

I focused on the path in front of me. A small cactus grew in an upward spiral, reaching to my knees. It wasn’t too different from some of the cacti the palace gardeners grew in big clay jars around the fountains and near the lagoon. Except it had much longer spikes.

And it seemed to be growing by the minute, twisting out of the sand.

“I used to tell the rest of the boys one would grow up around them if they didn’t practice every day,” he said. His tone was light, conversational. Unexpected.

He didn’t seem to distrust me at all or worry I’d turn on him. Maybe he thought his skills were so good that he didn’t have to worry.

He was probably right.

In a way, that helped me to relax, knowing he had the greater skill and hadn’t used it against me. It made me want to trust him.