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Dastan fled Avrat franticly, barely pausing to make sure he got on the right horse. He led Aksh straight into the desert, back in the general direction of Alamut. Tamina had left him behind and taken the dagger with her, melting back into the crowd of dignitaries and tribesmen they’d entered the city with, leaving him at the mercy of his Uncle and the Persian soldiers. He’d only just escaped, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed it.
He spurred Aksh to go faster, and the two practically flew through the desert. Every now and then he would slow, both to rest the horse and to continue tracking Tamina. There was a set of footprints he’d been following, the only set that broke away from the usual path to Alamut and into the desert, and he hoped it really was Tamina’s path and not someone else’s.
What his Uncle had said, the way his hands had been burned…
Dastan had questions that only Tamina could answer, and he needed to find her quickly, before anyone else and before she made her way back to Alamut. She didn’t know what she was walking back into.
He slowed Aksh as he came upon a single tree and looked toward the path she’d left again. He smiled to himself and got the horse back up to a trot as he sped after her, hoping to catch up to her before night fell.
— — —
Tamina jolted awake as a hand clamped over her mouth. She screamed around it as she looked wildly toward her attacker, her mind and body immediately going into attack mode. Her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw Dastan kneeling next to her, a finger held up to his lips. Most of his face was covered with his scarf, but she knew it was him.
He made an angry gesture before roughly letting her go and stalking away, toward the crest of the nearest sand dune. She sat up, opening her mouth to berate him before remembering that he’d asked for silence. She watched as he reached the top of the dune, his head barely peaking over it. Standing, she meant to go over to him when she heard the whinny of horses nearby, followed by shouts.
Dastan instantly sank to the sand, whispering urgently, “Get down! It’s a Persian patrol.”
She dropped immediately. Tamina had no desire to be found by the Persians either, especially not with what she carried. She looked behind her and then around, making sure no one was sneaking up on them.
“Garsiv,” Dastan whispered his brother’s name like a curse, spinning around and standing as the patrol passed, angrily jerking the scarf from his face and coming back toward her. The scowl on his face was a tell-tale sign of his mood, and it was then she noticed that the sleeves of his shirt were missing, transformed into makeshift bandages on both his arms. Her brow furrowed as he came closer, and she opened her mouth to ask what had happened before she was interrupted. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She looked at him warily, knowing that one wrong word here might destroy her chances of getting back to Alamut. Tamina glanced around, anywhere but at Dastan himself. She didn’t trust him completely, and she knew he didn’t trust her either. To entrust her knowledge to him, to a Persian prince…this wasn’t right.
“The tribesman left,” he said, continuing. “Maybe they tired of your penchant for lies and backstabbing.”
At that she whipped her gaze back to him, furious. “I had no choice but to leave you.” She looked at him, then, guessing at what had caused his horrible mood. “I take it your uncle didn’t listen.”
He shook his head, looking away from her for a moment. “It wasn’t Tus that killed my father.” Dastan scoffed. “It was Nizam.”
At that, her eyes crinkled in confusion. “Your uncle?”
“His hands were burned,” he explained, getting worked up now. A grim smile lit his features. “He said it happened trying to pull off the cloak that killed my father. I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. He never touched the cloak. He must have handled it before,” he spat. Too angry for words now, he turned around and walked off, shaking his head. “It was Nizam who poisoned it,” he said, the words almost broken. “What good does turning back a few moments of time do my uncle?” Dastan turned back, hungry for the answers she possessed even as he answered his own question. “None. He murdered my father for more than just a dagger.” He looked at her pointedly and asked the same question he’d asked earlier, this time a bit more desperately. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She stared at him, her thoughts and emotions torn. A part of her wanted to help him, wanted to see this situation resolved for him, but the larger part of her, the part dedicated to her calling, stayed silent.
“You’ve got quick hands,” he smirked, reaching behind him and bringing the sacred dagger before him. “But so do I.” Her eyes hardened, shocked that she hadn’t noticed him take it. “If you want it back, you tell me everything. No more games, no more lies.”
Her jaw worked, her emotions reeling. Tamina needed that dagger back, immediately. Every moment it wasn’t in her possession was a moment filled with anxiety and fear the likes of which she hadn’t felt her whole life. She opened her mouth to respond sarcastically, but then movement behind Dastan caught her eye. She focused her attention on the horizon and her stomach dropped, a new fear creeping over the old one. Her eyes grew wide. “Can we get out of here?”
He looked at her, confused as his horse, Aksh, neighed behind her and the crackle of thunder rolled across the sand dunes. He slowly turned around and looked behind him, shaking his head and throwing up a hand as he took in the full scope of the sandstorm barreling toward them. He looked back at her, smirking, and let out a long sigh. “Only a princess would think she could outrun a sandstorm.” He laughed without humor, shaking his head again as he walked past her toward Aksh, some of the fight leaching out of him. He tucked the dagger back into the waist of his pants and grabbed the reins of his brother’s horse.
Tamina watched as he persuaded Aksh to lie down, then grabbed the blanket she’d been using and made a lopsided tent out of it, making sure he covered the horse’s head. Understanding dawned on her all at once. “You can’t be serious? We’re going to weather a sandstorm under that?”
He looked back at her over his shoulder and smirked. “You’ll survive, princess. I’ve done this many times.”
That didn’t exactly reassure her, but it did help, at least a little. She looked back at the storm, her fear returning as she noticed how close the wall of sand had come already in such a short amount of time. She decided not to take any chances and went to Dastan’s side, looking at him warily as he held the makeshift tent up for her to enter. In that moment, she decided to trust him. She had no choice. He knew more about the desert and about sandstorms and how to stay alive in them. And if he’d wanted to kill her, he had had many opportunities to do so over the last few weeks. She nodded grimly to herself and went inside the tent, sitting cross-legged and getting as comfortable as she could. There was no telling how long the storm would last.
Dastan came in only a few moments later, lowering the blanket behind him. He let out a grunt as he sat next to her, putting a steadying hand beside him in the sand. Tamina’s original question returned to her then. “What happened? Back in Avrat?”
He looked at her briefly before bringing a hand to the horse’s neck and rubbing it gently, trying to sooth the animal. “Nizam brought soldiers with him to our meeting. When he found out I didn’t have the dagger with me,” he sighed, his words trailing off. “Well, I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s all that matters.”
“The bandages on your arms. Are you injured?” she asked softly.
“Only a few scratches,” he shifted, wincing and bringing a hand reflexively to his side. “I’ll be fine.”
“We’re going to be stuck in this tent for a long time, Dastan. I’d rather there not be any lies between us. Tell me the truth.”
He looked at her pointedly. “You first.”
Well. That was fair. Still, she hesitated.
“Nizam’s coming to kill us. He needs me dead,” he said, his eyes softening slightly as he took in her fearful expression. “I need to know why.”
She refused to look at him, staring straight ahead at the walls of the tent, watching as the first gusts of wind started to ripple across it. She would be divulging her greatest secret, her greatest duty. Her very destiny. There were very few people in this world who knew the secret that Alamut kept, and she wasn’t keen to add to that number. But they were here together, and they couldn’t seem to keep away from each other for long, not having since first met. It was as if there were an unseen force bringing them together, setting their footing on the same path. Tamina looked at him then, at his eyes searching her own, desperate to understand his Uncle’s motives and the new world he’d been thrust into.
And so she spoke, and began to tell him a story.
“In Alamut rests the beating heart of all life on Earth, the Sandglass of the Gods.” He looked away for a moment, as if exasperated, or perhaps trying to grasp the concept of gods that were not his own. Still, she forged ahead. “Long ago, the gods looked down on man and saw nothing but greed and treachery. And so they sent a great sandstorm to destroy all, wipe clean the face of the Earth. But one young girl begged the gods to give mankind another chance, offering her life in exchange. Seeing the purity within, the gods were reminded of man’s potential for good.” He looked away at that, eyes blinking rapidly. Almost as if he were weighing the potential for good against his Uncle’s actions. She continued, “And so they swept the sands into the Sandglass-”
Aksh whinnied nervously beside them and Dastan reacted immediately, bringing a soothing hand to the horse’s neck and speaking to him softly. Tamina broke off her story for the moment and did the same. When his hand swept gently over her own, she brought her gaze to Dastan’s and found the prince’s eyes slowly rising to meet her own. He smiled softly, glancing to her lips for a moment before refocusing on her eyes. The moment was gentle, and part of her didn’t want to break it, but she spoke anyway, looking away from him.
“The dagger was given to the girl who saved man, making her the first Guardian. The dagger blade is the only thing that can pierce the Sandglass and remove the Sands of Time, but the handle only holds one minute,” she explained.
He held the dagger in front of him, examining it. “What if one were to place the dagger in the Sandglass and press the jewel button at the same time?” He looked at her expectantly, hoping she had the answer.
And she did. “Sand would flow through endlessly.”
His eyes widened. “You could turn back time as far as you like.”
She nodded. “Yes, but it is forbidden,” she spoke softly, a hint of warning in her voice.
Dastan looked back down at the dagger, his thoughts no doubt spinning as he turned the blade over in his hand. His next words were unexpected. “When my father was a boy,” he looked to her before returning his attention to the dagger. “Nizam saved his life hunting. One day, the two princes were stalking a beautiful buck. But they were unaware of a lioness stalking them. Nizam saved Sharaman. My father told us the story over and over again.”
Tamina shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He tore his eyes from the dagger and looked at her, sudden clarity lighting his features. “Nizam wishes to go back in time and undo what he did. Not save my father. Let him die. Then he would be king for a lifetime, and my brothers would never be born.”
She looked at him then, the full weight of what he was telling her settling across her shoulders. What Nizam was planning was treacherous, and not just for the royal Persian family. For the whole world. Tempting fate like that, unleashing the Sands of Time, would risk the wrath of the gods themselves. Their very world could be destroyed by the greed of a single man. “Dastan,” she said quietly, “the sands contained within the Sandglass are incredibly powerful.” A shuddering breath rushed through her. “Opening the dagger while it’s inside the glass breaks the seal. That would destroy the Sandglass, causing it to crack and shatter. The Sands of Time would no longer be contained. And they would carry the gods’ wrath with them once more, destroying everything in their path. And all of mankind would pay for Nizam’s treachery.” She gestured to the walls of the tent and the sandstorm blowing all around them. “This is all that would be left of us.”
She thought for a moment, trying to decide what she should do next. But really, there was only one choice. Dastan’s uncle could never be allowed to claim the dagger. She turned to him, her mind made up. “The secret Guardian Temple outside Alamut is a sanctuary, the one place the dagger can be hidden safely, the only way to stop this Armageddon.” She paused, staring at him intently. “That’s the truth, Dastan. Give me back the dagger so that I can take it there.”
He shook his head, grunting. “Mmm. I can’t do that.”
Her heart dropped, her mind already devising plans to steal the dagger back and leave him behind. Kill him, if she had too.
He smiled softly at her. “I’m coming with you.”
Shocked, she took in a breath and raised a brow. “You’re going to help me?”
He nodded once, decidedly. “My Uncle cannot be allowed to take this dagger. If it will be safe with you, then I must do everything in my power to help you.”
A single tear sped down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen. Though how she expected him to miss something like that in such a small space, she wasn’t sure. In fact, he hadn’t missed it, and he brought a hand to her cheek, wiping away the next one that fell.
He smiled softly, sadly. “I’m sorry my Uncle has caused all this. My brothers would never have invaded your city if it weren’t for his counsel.”
“It’s not your fault, Dastan. The blame lies entirely on Nizam.”
He let out a breath, sighing deeply before removing his hand from her cheek. She had only a moment to miss the absence of his warmth before her attention was fixed solely on him as he grunted, bringing a hand to his side. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, and she remembered how this entire conversation had started. “I told you the truth, now it’s your turn.” When he brought confused eyes to her own, she lifted a brow. “Are you injured, Dastan?”
He looked away, shifting.
“The truth,” she insisted gently. “Let me help, if I can.” Tamina rested a hand against his forearm, stilling his movement. He looked at her with a guilty expression.
“An arrow,” he finally said, his shoulders slumping as the last bit of fight went out of him. “There was an archer above us in the rafters while I was talking with Nizam. I noticed him just a moment too late to avoid injury entirely.”
“Are you alright?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, roughing a hand over his face. “I’ve dealt with far worse.”
A part of her was curious about that last statement, but she didn’t pry. All that mattered was the here and now. She studied him, noticing the way his body sagged forward slightly, the way it took him longer to blink than normal. His breathing was more noticeable than usual, too, and the longer they sat there waiting out the storm, the more she saw. He was exhausted.
Looking back over the last few days, she realized he hadn’t slept for almost two of them. She shifted, making space in the small tent, and gestured toward him. “Here, lie back.” He shot her a confused glance and she smiled softly. “You haven’t slept for days, you need rest. The storm is the perfect opportunity.”
Dastan immediately shook his head. “No. Nizam’s men could be close by. You saw the patrol earlier, they could come back.”
“In a sandstorm?” she lifted a brow, her tone mocking.
“Well, I-”
“Dastan,” she interrupted, giving him her best glare. “Lie down and rest. You have my word that I will wake you as soon as the storm lifts. No one is coming for us, for the time being.”
He stared at her for a moment, glancing at the walls of the tent briefly, as if to assure himself they were still there, then let out a deep sigh. “Fine.” He maneuvered himself forward, his legs tucked against his chest, and then slowly lowered himself to the ground, wincing as he did. When his shoulder brushed against Tamina, he murmured an apology and shifted away, only to push his other shoulder underneath the edge of the tent.
She shook her head and placed both her hands under his shoulders, causing his gaze to snap to hers. “Here,” she said, gently nudging him until his head and shoulders rested in her lap. He stiffened, eyes darting around the tent and looking anywhere but at her. “Relax, Dastan,” she said softly. “Just rest.”
She began to run her fingers through his hair gently, trying to sooth him and get his body to relax. His shoulders eventually loosened, his eyelids drooping more and more with every passing moment. When his eyes finally closed, she smiled to herself. He surprised her, though, when he spoke. If the words had been any softer, she wouldn’t have heard them above the whistling of the wind. “Thank you, Tamina,” he whispered.
Then his entire body relaxed all at once and his head lolled to the side as he slipped into sleep. She continued to run her fingers through his hair, making sure he stayed asleep. He looked peaceful like this, without the weight of the world and his Uncle’s betrayal on his shoulders. She hadn’t really stopped to think about all he’d lost over the last few weeks, too busy focusing on her own situation.
But now that she did take the time to examine what this must be like for him, she discovered she empathized with him on an entirely new level. He’d watched as his father had died a horrible death in front of him, followed swiftly by the death of his best friend. To make it worse, his own brother had thought him responsible for it and had immediately ordered his men to seize him. And she probably hadn’t helped matters by whisking him away with her, even if she had helped him stay alive and escape. Her motives had been purely selfish, her only desire to get the dagger back from him before he discovered its secret. But he had anyway, and a whole new world had been opened to him, a world with gods that were not his own and powers that were difficult to believe existed. And now his Uncle had betrayed him and his entire family, and he couldn’t get close enough to his brothers to explain because they had made it clear that they thought him responsible for everything.
He deserved this stolen moment of rest, and she was going to make sure he got it. The storm would keep their enemies away from them, she was sure. No one was crazy enough to venture out into the desert while a sandstorm raged, and those that were already in the desert were smart enough to hunker down and ride it out. They were safe, for now.
Dastan shifted in his sleep, his features drawing together in pain before he settled again. As gently as she could, trying her best not to wake him, she lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing a bandage wrapped tightly around his middle. The only sign that there was a wound beneath was a small spot of dark blood at his side. Satisfied, she replaced the shirt, bringing her hands back to his hair. He’d been telling the truth, then, that the injury wasn’t all that bad. Painful, she was sure, but she was glad that it wasn’t life threatening. They were still several day’s ride from the Guardian Temple, and she wasn’t sure he would have made it there in time if he’d been injured more severely.
She stayed like that for hours, lost in her own thoughts as Dastan slept and the storm raged around them. Eventually, the winds weren’t quite so harsh, the sand beating against the cloth of their tent not quite so insistent. The storm was beginning to pass. An hour later and it was well and truly gone, the sun beating down on the tent with all the ferocity of before.
Aksh was beginning to get restless, whinnying softly, but Dastan was still lost to the world. If she hadn’t seen the rise and fall of his chest, felt his breath against the back of her hand, she would have thought him dead. But now that the storm had passed, it was time to wake him. She was reluctant to do so, but knew that if they stayed in one place for too long they would eventually be found. Better to leave now, when the sands around them were still rapidly shifting and their tracks would be covered in moments.
“Dastan,” she said, bringing a hand to his cheek. “The storm has passed, it’s time to go.” The only response she got was a slight wrinkle of his brow. A different tactic, then. She shifted, saying his name again. “Dastan, wake up.” The combined noise and movement was enough to wake him this time, and she watched as his eyes slowly opened, taking in his surroundings. When they met the walls of the tent, they widened and he quickly sat up, letting out a harsh gasp as the movement aggravated his wound. He wrapped a hand around his middle, gathering his wits and looking around the tent rapidly before his eyes finally settled on Tamina and he seemed to calm slightly.
He sat roughly back in the sand and brought his hands to his face, rubbing the sleep still clinging to him from his eyes. “How long?”
“Several hours,” she said. “The storm finally passed a few minutes ago.”
He nodded, gathering himself and letting loose a sigh as he got to his feet and lifted the edge of the tent, stepping outside into the afternoon sun beating down on them. She followed, stretching her sore muscles as she watched him persuade Aksh to stand again. The horse nuzzled Dastan and then shook, sand cascading off of his body and forming a small cloud that blew away in the breeze.
Dastan looked better, at least. It seemed the rest had done him some good, after all. He tethered Aksh, letting the horse walk around for a bit, much as Tamina was doing. She was used to sitting in one position for hours on end, thanks to her duties as princess and as Guardian of the dagger, but the stiffness it brought never got any easier.
She watched as he quickly dismantled their small tent, folding the blanket so that it would fit in the saddlebags. Within moments, it was as if the tent where she’d divulged her deepest secrets with a Persian prince had never existed.
She knew that Dastan had said he’d come with her during the storm, but now that it had passed and he had the opportunity to leave her behind, as she had in Avrat, she wondered if perhaps he’d been lying all along. “Did you mean it?”
He glanced at her as he stuffed the blanket into the bag on Aksh’s saddle. “Mean what?”
“That you’d come with me? Help me get the dagger to safety?”
His brow met in confusion. “Of course I did. Why would I have said it otherwise?” He smiled, untethering the horse and neatly climbing into the saddle. When he noticed that Tamina had made no move to join him, he smirked and held out a hand to her. “We can sit here and chat, or you can get on the horse.”
She returned his genuine smile, placing her hand in his offered palm. He lifted her onto Aksh, grunting in pain as he did so, and she settled just behind him, wrapping her arms around him, careful not to aggravate his injury. Dastan spurred Aksh on and Tamina tightened her hold around him as the horse began to move beneath them, quickly gathering speed until they were practically flying through the desert.
“Thank you, Dastan,” she said softly, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
His only response was to glance back at her and smile, bringing a hand to her own and squeezing it reassuringly. For better or worse, she was now relying on a Prince of Persia to deliver her and the sacred dagger to the Guardian Temple. She smiled to herself as she suddenly realized that she trusted Dastan entirely. Whatever came next, she knew she could count on him. It would seem that their destinies were intertwined.