I don't know how long we wait. I estimate hours, but it could be less, or more, because strange things happen to time once the inky blackness of night takes over your senses. Everything becomes slower and thicker, even the air around you, so it clings to the inside of your lungs once you suck it in like it doesn't want to be exhaled.

Night coats us in a false sense of security. We're bundled in blankets, and in darkness. We're invisible, aren't we? I start to entertain thoughts of staying here forever, with her pressed against my chest, feeling her heartbeat because my hand is pressed against the artery in her neck. Its gentle pulsing reassures me. It's like music, low and soft.

I pull her tighter against me, trying to memorize the weight of her, the way she fits in my arms. She's still so small, I realize, a creature made of lean muscle and bones thin as a birds'. And I want to send her out into the world alone? For a moment terror seizes me, terror at the conviction that she's too fragile to survive our there. In the desert. In Rizsava. Abroad.

What if she gets lost on the way back to the city? Will they find her body weeks later, or months, bones scattered around the sands by desert birds? What if she makes it to the city and ends up alone in some tenement district, with cruel-eyed men and pickpockets and not enough food to keep the scant flesh on her bones? Goddess, what if someone sees the gold beads? They'd kill her and take them in an instant. What if she finds passage on a ship but there's a storm and it sinks to the bottom of the Alyezsani ocean? What if-
What If I let her stay? That's all I need to ask myself. Will it be any better if she stays?

No, I think instinctively. The only life the palace can offer her is dependent on the whims of Sholu Verlaina, a proven madman. What happens when his favor runs out? When he stops protecting her for my sake? What would the Yukkaiti, the guards, do to her just to hurt me? I shiver at the thought, unconsciously pulling her closer still. No. She cannot stay, no matter how much I wish she could.

Yet I cannot stand the thought of losing her. It tears a great gaping hole in my center. It breaks my heart, the heart that's been broken so many times I wonder it still has the capacity to break. But it does. It cracks and groans and splits apart as I clutch Halima in my arms, thinking she might be the only one left in the world who knows who I really am. She might be the last person to love me. How can I possibly let her go?

I press my face to the back of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin. She smells like dust and sweat and river water. Organic, like something grown from the soil. I let my fingers trace the topography of her face, memorizing its peaks and valleys so well I could sculpt it. I want to remember her, everything about her. I want to be able to pull the memories tight around me when I'm cold and alone again, when everything else is dark, to remind myself that once I was loved.

But time is wearing thin. I can feel it snagging on the edges of my skin and tearing, telling me it's time, that the drugs have taken effect and she needs to go. She needs to walk far and fast before anyone notices what we have done to the guards.

"Halima," I whisper, so quiet because Kaza is sleeping just a few feet away. "Halima, get up."

We both do, extricating ourselves from the blankets as quietly as possible. The tent is pitch black around us, so disentangling ourselves and finding the opening flap takes time. Once we're outside the moon and the stars add to the light somewhat, but we still can't see more than a few feet in front of our faces. It's a good thing the sand muffles our footsteps, because we stumble.

"I have to get my bag," Halima whispers, gesturing over to a servant's tent where she's hidden a small satchel filled with enough food and water to last her the half day's walk back to Rizsava. She disappears into the night for a moment, then reappears carrying the leather bag across her body. She's also traded her sleeping clothes for a travelling tunic and jacket.

"Do you have everything?" I ask. "The gold beads? Enough food and water?"

She nods. "I have everything."

"And you remember the plan?" I continue.

She nods again.

"Repeat it," I prompt.

"I follow the river back to Rizsava. I find a way into the city, either through a defect in the wall, or through bribing the guards, or by following another caravan of refugees in." We passed several wagons carrying families from Arzsa seeking refuge on our way to the city, and if we're lucky they might provide her cover. "I find a back alley somewhere, a place where no one will ask questions, and I hide. I wait. After a month I try to find passage on a ship sailing to Kama or the far east."

"And if you're in danger?"

"Run fast," she says, "and stab quick."

I nod. She's taken a knife off one of the passed out guards, as per my instructions, and tucked it into her tunic sleeve. "I wish I'd had time to give you lessons," I say, catching a glimmer of starlight glinting off the hidden blade. "Just remember to go for the vulnerable places. Soft places. The eyes, the gut, the balls, the back of the knees. And never, never hesitate."

"I won't," she reassures me. "I- I can do this." I wonder which one of us her feigned bravery is for. I can see the terror in her golden eyes, even by starlight. But I see something else in them too. Something dangerously close to hope.

"I believe in you, Halima" I say, stepping closer to her, wanting to make that hope glow brighter still. "You're smart and loyal and you'll be fine. Absolutely fine." I fake a smile. "A few months from now you'll be eating fruit on a foreign shore, your feet in the surf, all of this evil far behind you."

She stares up at me, then reaches out to take my hand. I let her and she squeezes it tightly, clutching at me like I might give her strength. "Then come with me," she whispers, desperation creeping into her eyes. "We could do it together. Make it to the city. Hide out. Book passage on some merchant packet. We could both escape!"

"No, little dove," I say quietly, feeling the tide of her vain hope wash over me. "He would hunt me from the moment he saw the footprints in the sand. If I come with you, we won't get far."

"We could try," she pushes. "We might make it."

"We won't," I say. She already knows this, but she needs to hear me say it again. She needs this hope crushed. "You have to do this alone."

"Then what about you?" She asks.

"What about me?" I ask, trying to smile.

"What happens to you after I leave? What will you do?"

"I'm going to kill Sholu Verlaina," I answer decisively.

She shudders. "Then they'll kill you, miss. Matachai and his men, they won't let you get away-"

"I don't need them to let me get away," I tell her. "I am the Izsaiki of Arzsa, trained by Arn D'Verin, one of the greatest martial instructors Shikkah has ever known. I know how to survive, Halima. I'll kill him, and then I'll escape. Maybe I'll even find you, afterwards."

I wonder if she can see through the lie. If I kill him, there's no way I'll escape. It doesn't matter what I was, or who trained me: I'm still just flesh and blood. I cannot do impossible things.

But I see only the inkling of doubt in her eyes. She still wants to believe in fairytales, in unconquerable warriors and the power of good to prevail at the end. I could cry, that this innocence has somehow survived in her.

"You have to survive," she tells me. "You might be the last Amarin. You can't let him win, miss. You can't let this revolution suck you under, too."

"I won't."

"Promise me," she begs. "Promise me you'll survive."

"I promise," I lie, smiling down at her. "Don't worry about me."

She nods, swallowing. I can see tears welling in her eyes and catching on her bottom lashes. She tries to blink them away but they just slide down her cheeks, reflecting the moonlight so they sparkle like gemstones. Like mica under the desert sun.

"Don't worry about me," I repeat, crouching down and pulling her flush against me. "I'll be alright. I'm a survivor." She nods against me, wanting to believe.

"But you know what?" I ask her, pushing her slightly away so we're face to face, so her leaking eyes meet mine, "so are you. You survived the birth that took your mother and the plague that took your father. You survived childhood in the palace. You survived the revolution. And you'll survive this, too."

I pull her back to me, crushing us together. "But you have to go now, Halima," I whisper in her ear. "We don't have time. You have to put as much distance between yourself and the caravan as possible."

"I know," she hiccups. "I know that. But- but I don't want to leave you!" She cries, her head falling onto my shoulder, her tears wetting my neck. "How can I leave you, miss? You're all I have left!"
"Hush," I whisper. "It's alright."

"It's not," she says. "It's not alright. I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you!"

"And I don't want to let you go," I murmur back. "Little dove, you've saved my life five times over. After the massacre I was so lost. I was drowning. In rage, in grief, in my own hopelessness. But you, you kept my soul in my body and for that I'll never be able to repay you. But I have to try, alright? So go now. Go and have a life that isn't bound up in revolution and captivity and death. Go far away from here and find a way to be happy somehow."

She begins to cry harder, gripping me so her nails bite into my skin. "I don't want to go," she repeats over and over again. "I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you."

"Just remember me," I tell her quietly. "You might be the only one left who can." And with that I stand up and slide out of her embrace. I feel the cord between us stretched taut, close to breaking.

"I love you," I tell her severely. "Never forget that. Now go!"

She stumbling back like she's been pushed. And she has been. This was all my idea, and whatever happens to her rests squarely on my shoulders. It's a risk I have to take.

She hesitates a moment, her mouth opening as if to argue, but she doesn't speak. She just watches me, eyes full, cheeks flushed with emotion. My eyes lock with hers and I smile, a real smile, even as my heart is breaking. Because she might just have a chance. She might just get away.

"Go, Halima," I whisper. "Run!"

She holds my gaze one moment longer, then turns and begins to sprint away. She looks so small, so young running away from me, much too young to send out alone into the night. She looks the like the kind of soft flesh the beast of the dunes would prey on. But the beast of the dunes isn't real and she's stronger than she looks. We both are, I remind myself.

I watch her until she stops turning back, until she's just a spot against the horizon, and then I wipe my tears and return to the tent.

______

When I pull back the tent flap, preparing to sneak back into my bed roll and wait for morning, Kaza meets my eyes. He's awake and sitting up. He catches me so off guard I shout and stagger back, my mind reeling at the discovery.

"I- I couldn't sleep," I try, offering a wan smile. "I was just pacing-"

He just holds up a hand to stop me. "I know."

"Know what?" I ask lightly, feigning confusion, but already there's a knot forming in my stomach. I begin to sweat despite the night's chill.

"Stop it," he snaps. "I know, alright? I saw you picking lanuli by the river last week. I figured it out."

"There's nothing to figure out," I tell him, a slight quaver in my voice betraying me. "I have trouble sleeping. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Then where is Halima?" He asks, raising his eyebrows in mock curiosity.

I pause. Sands. How do I cover that? "She's with the servants," I try, but it's too late. The lie sounds hollow even to my ears.

He snorts. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? She's gone. You've drugged the guards with the lanuli and she's run off."

I feel like I'm sinking. Like the sand beneath me has turned to liquid and is gradually swallowing me up. I fall, heavy as a stone, into the sinkhole his words have opened up. Because what can I say? How can I lie my way out of this? It's over now, I realize, not crying or screaming but whispering it to myself with the finality of a prayer. It's over now.

Or is it? I think, feeling a dangerous stirring of hope. He knows, but here he is, talking to me. He isn't waking up the camp, or running into the night after Halima himself. He knows, but he isn't telling. Yet.

"Kaza," I say, my voice raw as sand-scratched eyes, "you told me once you weren't a monster. I'm asking you to prove it." I lean forward beseechingly. "Please, please don't tell anyone you saw her go. Just go back to sleep. Pretend you never woke up."
He sighs. "You know what you're asking me to risk? If anyone finds out I knew and didn't tell, they'll shoot me."

"But no one will find out!" I promise quickly. "How could they? Just act groggy tomorrow and everyone will think you drank the poisoned spirits. You won't be punished any harsher than the rest of the guards."

"But if I stop you, I won't be punished at all," he counters.

I have no recourse but begging. "Please," I say, my voice reaching out to him, trying to grab his hands and make him understand the desperation that is eating me up inside. "Please be a good man. Please let her go. I'll- I'll do anything."

"Do you really think she'll be safer out there?" He asks. "You just sent her out alone into the desert, O'otani. And you have her going back to Rizsava, don't you?" He shakes his head. "That city will eat her alive. What were you thinking? At least with us she was protected!"

"With us she was a tool used to manipulate me," I reply. "With us she faced danger from every corner. She lived a half-life, tethered between a madman and a damned mistress. Now she's free."

"Free to die," he says. "She won't make it alone. She's too young, too naïve. She's prey."

"She has a chance," I argue. "Please don't take it from her. Please, I'll do anything-"

"Stop saying that," he snaps. "If I was going to say something, don't you think I would have done it already?"

I look up at him, eyes wide, hope blossoming inside of me. Is it possible?

"I'm not going to stop her," he says quietly. "Even if I think she'll die out there."

"Thank you!" I say, almost sob, all of the tension suddenly leaving my body. I slump forward, feeling almost light headed. "Thank you, Kaza. Goddess bless you."

"Goddess is right," he sighs. "If I hang for this, I'm going to haunt you, O'otani Koritzu."

_______

SO what did everyone think? This chapter was really hard to write because it made me sad, I'm sentimental. But good news- there's only one chapter left in part two!!! Yay, cue confetti! And guys, I'm not lying when I say stuff is about to get REAL. Really real. 

As always, if you liked it, drop me a comment below. And thanks for reading!

- Swpoet