“Bum-ba, bum-ba, bum-ba,” he said. “Got it.”

She smiled. “Not yet you don’t. Run with me.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him after her. Her feet hit the sand in rhythm with the drum. He fell into step beside her, and she ran with him until the beat faded under the sound of the night wind. Pivoting, she ran back toward the camp. The wind was cool in her face. It caressed her neck and tossed her hair. His footfalls matched hers.

By the fire, Liyana caught Korbyn’s free hand. She swung in a circle with him. “Feel the beat! Bum-ba, bum-ba, bum-ba.” She released him. He continued to move with the beat. She raised her arms to match Pia’s soaring melody, and she let the music take her. Her feet danced to Raan’s syncopated rhythm while Korbyn stamped out the central heartbeat. Letting go of her thoughts, she spun around him.

Korbyn turned with her, and she felt his eyes on her. She orbited around him, the moon to his sun. As the melody dipped, she twirled closer. She lifted her hands, palms forward. He lifted his, and they pressed their hands together. Palm to palm they danced.

As the song rose above the desert, Liyana felt as if the wind were dancing with them. Sand churned under their feet. She tilted her head backward as Korbyn cradled her back in his hands. He spun her in a circle, and she saw the stars spin above them. He raised her up, and their faces were only inches apart. Slowing, they swayed to the heartbeat-like drum. His eyes were like the night sky, deep and endless and full of stars.

He slowed, still swaying. So did she.

The melody ceased.

She realized that the drums had stopped as well, though she didn’t know when. She and Korbyn were swaying to their own rhythm. Liyana stopped. She couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes were fixed on hers as if nothing else in the world existed. Both of them breathed fast.

Releasing him, she broke away. His hand reached toward her and then fell back. “You’re ready for Bayla,” she said. Her voice sounded thin to her ears.

She didn’t look at any of the others as she ducked into the tent. Curling up in her sleeping roll, she pretended to be asleep when they all came in for the night.

Chapter Eighteen

“We are leaving the desert,” Pia announced.

Liyana pulled on the reins, and Gray Luck slowed. In the distance, she saw the silhouette of hills—the eastern border of the desert. Black trees with bare branches marked the peaks. On the other side of those hills was the Crescent Empire. “She’s right,” Liyana said.

“Different birds,” Pia explained.

Liyana heard them, unseen to one another, calling in low caws and piercing trills. They hid in the thorned bushes and dried grasses that pockmarked the land, and they perched on the twisted trees that grew out of boulder-filled hollows. The branches of the trees were so knotted that they looked like misshapen fingers folded into fists.

“You want us to leave the desert?” Fennik asked, scandalized.

Raan rode past Fennik. “And where exactly did you think we were going? The fair?” She sounded so pleased that Liyana expected her to break out in a whistle.

“Why would anyone in the Crescent Empire want our gods?” Fennik asked. “The empire has always left the desert alone and vice versa.”

Liyana had imagined a lone madman or a rogue clan. She’d never thought about an enemy from beyond the sands. She’d never met anyone from outside the desert. She didn’t know any of their stories.

“Horse boy does have a point,” Raan said. “Why mess with our sand? They already have fertile fields, rivers full of fish, cities of surpassing wealth . . .” The note of longing in her voice was clear. We’ll have to watch her again, Liyana thought. She felt a sinking in her stomach as she remembered Raan’s lack of tattoos.

“Besides, don’t they have their own gods?” Pia asked.

All of them looked at Korbyn.

“Fennik, keep your bows accessible.” He urged his horse forward. Liyana followed, her horse stomping on the bushes. Branches crackled under Gray Luck’s hooves.

By afternoon they reached the border hills. Miniscule, white flowers coated the slopes, and lichen painted the rocks in orange, green, and white. Liyana spotted rodents scurrying between the rocks. As they rode uphill, she thought about setting snares for them, and she wondered if there was larger game in the hills, perhaps gazelles or wild goat.

Korbyn crested the hill. Immediately he yanked his horse’s head around and trotted down the slope. “Down,” he ordered, and they followed him.

At the base, Fennik said, “Tell us. What did you see?”

Korbyn swore, borrowing some of Raan’s favorite words as he dismounted. His horse plunged his snout into the nearest bush and began stripping the leaves off it. On foot Korbyn trotted back to the hill without answering Fennik.

“Go on,” Pia said. “I’ll stay with the horses.” She patted hers on the neck. Leaving her, Liyana, Raan, and Fennik crept up the slope behind Korbyn. All of them poked their heads over the ridge.

Beyond was a broad plain of golden grasses.

It was filled with tents.

Hundreds of dark green tents lined the plain like crops. Around them, horses grazed—not sleek desert horses but large, muscled horses. Men and women in white uniforms paced between the tents.

Liyana tried to count the number of tents and gave up after the fifth row of twenty. The encampment was larger than a clan. In fact, it was larger than five clans.

“You didn’t expect this,” Fennik said to Korbyn.

Raan snorted. “He’s been making it all up as he goes along.”

Liyana flinched as Korbyn shot her a look. Not meeting his eyes, she studied the encampment again. Deep within the rows, a banner emblazoned with a crescent sun waved over a large, golden tent. At this distance, the white-clad soldiers who circled the gold tent looked like moon moths around a candle flame.

“You can quit glaring at her. She didn’t give up your precious ‘secret,’ ” Raan said. “It’s been obvious that you’re winging it.”

Fennik drew back from the edge. “Can we have this argument down the hill?”

Silently they retreated down the hill and rejoined Pia and the horses. Liyana still felt exposed. She watched the top of the hill and wondered if there were patrols that watched the border. If so, how often did they pass there?

“Please, tell me,” Pia said.

“It’s an army,” Fennik said. “Korbyn either deliberately neglected to tell us, or—”

“Does it matter?” Liyana interrupted. “I’d say we have a lot more important issues than what Korbyn knew or didn’t know, and did or didn’t tell us.”

Pia clutched her horse’s reins as if she were on the verge of fainting. “Army?” she squeaked.

“Crescent Empire,” Korbyn said.

“See, he knows something!” Fennik said.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Raan said dryly. “They had flags, you know. Also, that is the Crescent Empire’s land, so it’s a good bet that it’s their army. I doubt they’d let another army wander through.”

“But . . . Why? What do they want?” Pia’s voice trembled.

“Looks like they want the desert,” Raan said. “It would hardly make sense for them to invade themselves. But I can’t imagine why. We don’t have anything they need.”

Liyana shook her head. “ ‘Why’ doesn’t matter, at least to us. Our job is to rescue our gods. Once they walk the world, they can handle the army.”

“We don’t even know if they have our gods,” Fennik said. He looked pointedly at Korbyn. Korbyn’s gaze was fixed on the ridge. Liyana wasn’t convinced he was even listening to them.

“Our gods were summoned east, and there’s an army east,” Liyana said. “I have trouble believing that’s a coincidence.” Somewhere in that encampment, Bayla waited for Korbyn.

“Fine,” Fennik said. “But we don’t know where they’re being held. Or how. Our gods could be trapped in anything. Or anyone.”