the broken heels, he raised an eyebrow in question.
“They’re styled to make a great impression, not for an afternoon hike in the sand.”
“I assure you. You’ve always made an impression. Without the shoes,” he murmured, then motioned her to lift her foot.
She placed her heel in his palm, felt the slight dusting of his thumb against her ankle. Her toes curled, but her back stiffened.
“Don’t,” she snapped, low and mean.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tell me not to touch your son one minute, then stroke me the next.”
“Rashid and Ramon were very close,” Jarek replied, his answer matching the hushed tone of hers. “If you had comforted him for much longer, the tears would’ve taken over and made things more difficult. My priority is his protection. We will have time for grief, but only after we are safe.” Then, almost deliberately, his thumb grazed her ankle again. “Now. Are you ready?”
Before she could reply, he boosted her into the saddle.
Ping bristled against the weight, stomping her front foot for a moment before a few murmured words from Rashid settled her down.
Quickly, Sarah adjusted her purse across her back and out of her way.
“Here you are, Miss Kwong.” Rashid handed her the reins.
When the boy turned away, Ping took a step forward, causing Sarah to lock her thighs on the saddle. “Whoa, girl.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Rashid asked, his small brow knitted with concern.
“I’ll be fine, Your Highness. It’s like falling off a horse, right?” Sarah winked.
The little boy smiled. A big smile that revealed a dimple in each cheek.
A small rubber band of emotion snapped inside her chest. She knew in that moment, if she wasn’t careful, she’d be a sucker for those dimples.
“Ping will follow Taaj, Miss Kwong. So all you have to do is stay in that saddle,” Jarek ordered. “If you hear gunshots, don’t look back. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“And keep up.” Jarek lifted Rashid onto Taaj, then swung up into the saddle behind him.
“Papa, look,” Rashid shouted.
A long line of dust clouds rose over the horizon behind them.
Sarah raised her hand to shield the sun. “What is it? A sandstorm?”
She’d read about the dangers of the desert—scorpions, vipers, raging winds of sand, but didn’t think she would ever experience any firsthand.
Jarek swore and reached for his binoculars.
“The Al Asheera. The same who gunned down the airplane. They’ve spread out and are approaching at a full gallop.”
Suddenly the sand exploded no more than fifty feet in front of them.
Ping reared back and spun herself away. Sarah grabbed the pummel and held her seat. “Whoa!”
“Rockets,” Jarek warned and pointed to the west. “Head toward those cliffs. We can hide in the caves.”
“Away from the city?” Sarah exclaimed, her head still ringing from the explosion.
“They’ve blocked our route back to the palace. Go!”
Another blast hit fifty feet to their side, narrowly missed the king and his son.
In an instant, both horses raced across the dunes. Sarah leaned close to Ping’s neck. The horse was breathing hard but Sarah didn’t dare slow her down.
“They’re deliberately driving us farther into the desert,” Jarek shouted.
Gunshots burst through the air, causing little explosions that nipped at the heels of their horses.
The Al Asheera’s cries shot across the sand. Their red robes brazen in the sunlight, the rifles raised against their shoulders.
“They’re gaining on us, Ping,” Sarah warned the horse, then gripped the saddle tighter to keep her seat.
Suddenly, Jarek pointed toward an outcropping of jagged, black stones jutting up from the sand. “Head for the rocks!”
“Come on, girl!” Sarah urged. The horse raced through the dunes and scrub to the field of rock.
Jarek pulled Taaj to a halt at the edge and checked the wind. “It’s blowing in the right direction. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Sarah offered a brief prayer of thanks when Ping stopped alongside Taaj. “They’re coming, Jarek.” Without realizing it, Sarah said his name. He stiffened beside her, but otherwise didn’t say anything.
He slid off Taaj and gave the reins to Rashid. “Get as far into the field as you can, then wait for me. Go slow enough so the horses can find footing. The last thing we need is for them to break a leg.”
Bullets strafed the rocks a few yards behind him.
“Did you grab the flares from the cockpit?” Jarek asked.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Give them to me.”
She dug into her purse until her fingers touched plastic caps. “Here.”
He tucked the end of the scarf over his face, then snapped the lids off two flares and struck the ends against a nearby rock. “Go!”
Sarah followed Rashid over the broken bits of stone. “What is he doing?”
Sparks shot from the flares. Jarek tossed one, then another toward the edge of the rock bed.
“Look.” Rashid pointed to the edge of shale.
Almost instantly, a fire fluttered over the ground in an orange haze of heat.
“That’s not big enough—”
“Watch,” Rashid responded, cutting her off.
Within moments, smoke rose from the flames, dense with sulphur, black with oil, until it stood twenty feet high—and more than thirty times that in length.
“The smoke is too thick for them to see the ground,” Rashid explained, but the young boy’s eyes never left his father.
“They can’t bring their horses in over the rocks without risking injury.”
“They could walk them through,” Sarah answered, her eyes never wavering from Jarek.
“It would take too long. They would pass out from the fumes.”
The dark cloud gathered strength, rolling over the rocks as it grew in girth. Jarek scraped the last two flares against the stone, turned and was swallowed whole.
Sarah held her breath. The fumes stung her nostrils, coated her lungs.
In the distance they could hear horses scream. Men yelled obscenities. Gunshots bounced behind them, too far to cause damage.
Jarek. Sarah’s mind screamed his name, willing him to reappear.
Suddenly, he broke from the darkness, running after the horses.
Within moments, he swung up behind his son. His scarf was gone from his face. Black streaks smudged his cheek, across his forehead. But otherwise he appeared no worse for the experience.
“That was close.” She exhaled slowly, hoping to settle the pounding in her head, the queasiness that slapped at the back of her throat. He was safe. They were safe.
“You think we’re safe?”