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to seventeen. A number only one man in my country is permitted to wear.

“King Minoak?” I gasp.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the girl spits at me. She hovers in front of the king of Verdenet, scrawny arms outstretched. “We’re homeless outcasts. I’m sorry I stole your food; we’re just desperately hungry.” From beneath her hood, I catch a glimpse of a round face, unmarked by a single wrinkle or line. Dark curls escape around her full cheeks. She can’t be older than twelve. Maybe thirteen.

What is a child doing with King Minoak? I assumed if he survived, he would be with guards. Or warriors. Not a young girl.

Yet, it’s clear she isn’t just any girl.

Ignoring Ziva’s request, I edge closer. “I—I never doubted you were alive,” I stutter, suddenly tongue-tied and bumbling as I gaze down at my king. “And I knew you’d come here.”

Irritation at the scouts’ pathetic efforts rankle me. I found the missing king on my very first attempt. Proof that they’ve been trying to undermine and sabotage me.

Except they wouldn’t have been able to see Minoak or the girl, I realize as the pane of blackness Ziva erected between us crumbles. They probably couldn’t see the mesa at all….

“How long have you been hiding here?” I ask. “And how long have you been able to do that little trick with the darkness?” I nod at Ziva’s hands.

“We’re just passing through. And I don’t know what trick you’re talking about,” she retorts. She lifts King Minoak under the arms and tries to drag him back into the colonnade, but her burned leg gives out and they hit the ground hard.

The king clutches his side with a moan. Dark crimson stains bloom through his filthy tunic—the kind of wound made by a dagger, not the result of a nasty fall or starvation. And judging by the amount and pattern of the blood, the dagger was at least the length of my hand, and the attack came from behind. Uncontested.

Which means Temujin’s tales about the assassination attempt were true—for once.

“Now look what you’ve done,” the girl barks at me. “That wound had nearly closed.”

I ignore her accusatory scowl and rush to help. “He needs stitches and poultices to stave off infection.” I reach for the corner of Minoak’s tunic to inspect the wound closer, but the hiss that flies from Ziva’s mouth is fiercer than the growl of a banded leopard.

“I just want to help,” I assure her. “I’ve been searching for the king. I need to bring him back—”

“Of course you’ve been searching for him! Everyone has. All you empire dogs are desperate to finish the job after I killed the first assassin.”

It takes a moment for Ziva’s words to compute. When they do, my mouth slowly drops open and I appraise her in a new light. “You stopped the assassin?”

“Yes,” she says quickly, before her voice breaks and fades away.

“Who are you?”

She draws her shoulders back and her honey-brown eyes burn into mine, as fierce as the desert sun. “I am Zivana Bonwatu Yimeni, Crown Princess of Verdenet, and I will end you if you lay a finger on my father.”

I had almost forgotten the king had a daughter. She was so young when my village burned; they hadn’t even performed her hastening ceremony yet. Now here she is, on the run, trying to nurse her father back to health when she’s barely old enough not to need a nurse herself.

“I’m no empire dog, and I don’t want to kill your father,” I tell her again. “Quite the opposite. I am Verdenese. Minoak is my king. I want to see him restored to the throne.” I gesture to myself—my tattooed calves, tanned skin, dark hair and eyes.

“I don’t care what you look like. A loyal citizen of Verdenet would never throw a star at me, chase me through the desert, and threaten to bring the entire mesa down on us. You’re clearly one of the Sky King’s warriors.”

“What makes that so clear?”

“Everyone with power is.”

“Does that mean you’re one of his warriors?” I raise a brow at her. “We seem to have a lot in common….”

“I don’t know what this is”—she holds up her hands—“but I do know I’m nothing like you. I would never help a greedy pig ravage my country.”

“Neither would I. That’s the entire reason I’m here. I want to free Verdenet and the other Protected Territories. I want to place King Minoak back on the throne. But I obviously needed to find him before I could accomplish any of this. All of those people hidden in the caves are of the same mind.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, but it’s the truth, and if you come back with me—”

“We’re not going anywhere with you.”

“What other choice do you have?” I look gravely at the chalk-faced king. His hand clutching his side is entirely covered with blood and his lips murmur unintelligible words. He’s thin beneath the rags and furs. As thin as the girl.

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out without your ‘help,’ ” she says, dismissing me.

I scoot closer. “You’ve done an impressive job keeping your father hidden and alive, but he needs medical attention—you both do.” I nod at her burned leg. “And food. It’s okay to change course and accept help.”

It isn’t lost on me that this is the same speech Serik has been giving me since we left Sagaan. But the circumstances are completely different. The shepherds don’t actually want to help. They want me to fail. They offer aid with one breath, then slander me with the next. While I, on the other hand, am willing to do anything, sacrifice anything, to save my king and my people.

King Minoak coughs again. Thick, wet droplets of blood speckle his lips. When the fit finally releases him, he loses consciousness, his head lolling onto Ziva’s lap. While she screams and grips him by both cheeks, commanding him to wake up, I sidle even closer.

“Without you and King Minoak, we’ll never be able

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