1 Chapter 1

The hot desert air blew in through Young Master’s open window, carrying with it the scents of the clan outside: camels and horses, roasting meat for the midday meal, the sweat of people. The clang of steel on steel echoed into the room, traveling from the training grounds at the eastern edge of camp. Soldiers completing their daily lessons, or else sparring to keep their skills as honed as the long swords they carried.

Yashiv longed to be out there with them. His fingers itched to grip the hilt of his own blade, sheathed at his hip. He wore the scabbard over a plain tunic and pants, both made of a lightweight linen. Normal attire, as the heat still clung to the desert, even in late autumn. The breeze did little to cool the brick dwelling where Master and his family lived, nor the tents or reed huts erected outside. In winter, when the air could cut as sharp as a knife, Yashiv was happy for this mostly indoor task.

Not now, when the warriors prepared for approaching raids on the king’s caravans. Only a year ago, when he’d reached the age of fifteen, and was finally trusted to go on raids, he’d been pulled from the soldiers’ tents and placed here instead. Master Alim himself had reassigned Yashiv to bodyguard duty, watching over Master’s nine-year-old son, Cassian.

Yashiv wrinkled his nose—this was nothing more than glorified babysitting. The boy wasn’t difficult; in fact, the lad was dutiful, smart, and attentive. He never shirked from what his father, or the elder council, asked of him. Even after such a short time, Yashiv respected the child.

Cassian wasn’t the problem. Yashiv’s grievances came from wasted skill. He was easily one of the best warriors in the clan—besides Rafiq, the leader of the army. Yashiv would be of better use on raids, not watching after a child in no real danger.

Everyday Yashiv spent indoors was one day the others soldiers had to improve. Before long, he’d be outstripped. As an adopted member of the clan, Yashiv could not afford to be seen as worthless.

“Yashiv?”

Yashiv looked down at the lad, sprawled on his stomach on the floor. A sheet of papyrus written with glyphs detailing the clan’s animal population lay in front of him. His bright blue eyes shone through a thick fringe of black hair. His nose appeared beakish on his tiny face; his ears sticking out like an elephant’s. Still, his smile stretched wide, and it brought a grin to Yashiv’s own mouth.

“Yes, Young Master?”

The boy’s lips turned down at the formal title. He didn’t care for it and had tried to get Yashiv to call him by his given name. They had bantered back and forth over it their first day together. It had turned into a good-natured wrestling match, Yashiv pretending to let the boy pin his arm behind his back. When Cassian had gloated about winning, demanding that Yashiv do as he said, Yashiv bowed his head.

“You’ve bested me in battle, Young Master. I must now honor you for the rest of my life.”

Cassian’s clear eyes had widened, realizing Yashiv got the upper hand. They had both laughed then, and Young Master hadn’t brought up the subject again.

He only showed his displeasure with an occasional grimace.

The boy stood to his feet and looked out the open window. He hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, making the seven-year age difference between them seem much larger. Side by side, Cassian only reached Yashiv’s chest. “Can’t we go out for a walk? It’s hot in here.”

“It’s hotter outside,” Yashiv pointed out.

Cassian glanced over his shoulder, sticking out his bottom lip. “Well, we could go to Mother’s workshop.”

“Young Master, you know you aren’t allowed to leave the room.”

“It’s boring. I’ve already finished my report.”

“Your father is having an important meeting. It’s best we stay here as a precaution, where it’s safe.”

Again, the boy pouted, his brow drawing down. Yashiv had told him that his face would freeze that way, but the lad had shrugged off the warning.

“This is a meeting calling for peace,” Cassian said, returning his eyes to the window and the activity out there. The room’s view faced the Flat, an open area where a shrine to Gala and Gaius sat, the center of their camp. All life revolved around the shrine, as all lives circulated on the divine nature of the god and goddess.

“How did you know that?”

Cassian flashed him a withering look. “I do listen to what’s going on, Yashiv.”

Yashiv’s smile widened. The child heard more than he should have. Likely due to his small size. He had a knack for being overlooked.