In a mild voice Korbyn said, “Your ‘deficient’ vessel crossed a desert that has killed seasoned warriors.” He met Liyana’s eyes. At least she was not the only one who had valued Pia. She suddenly felt less alone. She was aware of his closeness inside the tent. For an instant Oyri and her tirade melted away.

Liyana broke eye contact as she felt Bayla churn inside her. Exactly where does my darling boy propose we ride to? Bayla asked. The enemy is here!

“Bayla wants to know where we’re going,” Liyana said. She shifted away from Korbyn. The air was thick and hot inside the tent, and she tried to breathe deeply.

“To unite the clans,” Korbyn said.

“The Scorpion Clan joins with no one,” Oyri declared.

Waste of time, Bayla said. You will never achieve full cooperation. She continued to expound on the futility of Korbyn’s plan and the lack of cohesion of the clans. The isolationism has been increasing. Oyri is but one example—

Korbyn’s mouth twisted into an almost smile. “She’s ranting, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Liyana said.

His smile broadened.

Bayla broke off midsentence. I do not rant.

“Bayla, Oyri . . . The army must be stopped,” Korbyn said. “If they reach the mountains, they’ll bring disaster to the entire desert.”

Stop them here! Bayla said. Vessel, repeat my words. Better to fight now before the invaders soil our sands with—

“She says to stop them here,” Liyana said.

“It is a very large army,” Korbyn said mildly. Bayla began to protest again, but before Liyana could speak, Korbyn looked beyond her. “Are the horses ready?” he asked.

Liyana turned her head and saw Fennik—Sendar—in the entranceway. She stared at him and tried to convince her brain that this was not her friend, even though it was his body. Sendar’s eyes roved over her. “Bayla?” he breathed.

Tell him he still smells of horses, and I do not forgive him for the humiliation he—

“She’s angry with you,” Liyana said.

Sendar looked pained but did not address her. “The horses will be ready shortly. Give them ten minutes to rest, and then we can—and should—move out.” Though he had the same voice, he did not speak like Fennik. His words rolled as smooth as pebbles. Liyana noticed that his stance was different as well. He held his shoulders farther back, and his body was stiff and still. Fennik had been always in motion. His fingers used to braid together or run through his hair. His expressions, too—Liyana was reminded of a puppet whose each facial tick was deliberate and pronounced. Sendar moved and spoke with intent.

Raan’s eyes popped open. “If someone does not pour whisky down my throat right now, I will be kicking every man in the balls and scalping every woman.”

Sendar roared with laughter and slapped his knee. “Maara, it is good to see you.”

Liyana suddenly felt as if the tent were too tight and the air had vanished. She pushed past Oyri and Sendar, and ran out into the desert. She stopped at the crater that the salt worm had created, and she knelt, face in her hands.

You mourn her, Bayla said quietly.

She didn’t want to die. Liyana felt an ache twisting inside her. Perhaps she understood Raan better than she’d ever thought she did. She wished she’d had a chance to tell her.

But she was a vessel. This was her fate.

I honor you, Bayla. You are my goddess, and you have my love. But for the space of a moment . . . do not speak to me.

I feel your hostility—

Liyana screamed and threw a clump of dried dirt into the salt worm’s tunnel. It smacked into the wall and fragmented. She threw another and another.

She heard footsteps behind her. “This is a familiar sight,” Korbyn said.

Liyana placed her face in her hands again, and she felt his hands on her shoulders. She sank down into the dirt. He cradled her against his chest.

He comforts you, Bayla said.

Silence, or I will not speak for you ever again.

Bayla faded into the back of her mind. Liyana felt a hint of her anger, like a whiff from a distant cooking pot. “Why me, and why not them?” she asked Korbyn.

He didn’t answer. He just held her.

Cheek pressed against his chest, she looked across the desert. It was pockmarked with dry bushes and thick-as-leather cacti. The forbidden mountains loomed in the distance. Their journey wasn’t over. “What do we do now?”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I don’t know.” She didn’t think he was talking about Maara or even the invading army.

Sendar emerged from the tent. She didn’t look up to see his expression, so like Fennik and yet not. “We don’t stay here,” he said with Fennik’s voice. Raising her head, Liyana watched him adjust the saddles. Behind him, Maara stepped out of the tent and stretched. She turned her body, examining herself, and made pleased noises.

And then she collapsed into the sand.

All of them rushed to her side. Pushing Sendar aside, Liyana threw herself onto her knees next to Raan and cradled her head.

Bayla observed, She still fights.

“Keep fighting,” Liyana whispered to her. “You can survive this. Stay in your body.”

Inside, Bayla reared like a sandstorm, and Liyana felt herself blown backward. The world went black and silent, and she kept falling back, back, back. Liyana forced her mind into her body, flooding her arms and legs and fingers and chest and feet.

Subdued again, Bayla was silent. At last she said, You seem to have forgotten your role, vessel. You promised me this body.

Liyana blinked open her eyes to see Korbyn only a few inches away. He cradled her in his arms. “Still me,” Liyana said. Guilt washed through her—it shouldn’t still be her. Bayla was right. Liyana had promised to leave. But if there was no harm in staying a little while longer . . .

A look of relief flashed across his face.

Korbyn? Bayla’s voice was tinged with pain and confusion.

“Bayla, is she—” Korbyn began.

“Inside,” Liyana said. “Angry. Confused.” She thought of what Talu would say if she knew Liyana remained. She wouldn’t understand why Liyana delayed. Of course Liyana intended to leave as soon as it was truly necessary. She got to her feet and checked on Raan. She was unconscious again. Liyana felt her pulse—stronger than it had been. “We’ll tie her to one of the horses, a calm mare preferably, and someone will ride beside her.”

“And what about me? How do you expect me to ride?” Oyri demanded. “Will you tie me to a saddle like a sack as well? It is insupportable that I must rely—”

Liyana cut her off. “Pia learned to ride. Fennik . . . Sendar, would you please choose their horses and help them mount?”

Sendar looked at Korbyn quizzically. “You allow the mortal to give orders?”

Korbyn shrugged. “She gives good orders.”

He cares for you, Bayla said. More than for me? I will see you suffer for this outrage.

Liyana felt a wave of fear crash through her, and she knew Bayla must feel her reaction too. She’d never thought she would fear her goddess. Any harm to me is harm to your future body.

Then I will break you from the inside out, Bayla vowed.

Sendar prepared the horses while Korbyn packed the tent. Leading Oyri and Raan and the supply horses, they rode out. Liyana tried hard not to think at all.

Once the border hills were distant silhouettes, the deities and Liyana halted and set up camp under the light of the moon. Liyana and Korbyn pitched the tent and started a fire while Sendar tended to the horses. He cooed to their mounts as if they were kittens. As he curried them, Liyana and Korbyn helped Oyri off her horse and into the tent, and then they slid Raan off her horse.

No one spoke.