Pia gasped. “Oyri, in another?”

Gaze still fixed on the border, Korbyn spoke. “Once, there was a god who mistakenly entered his vessel’s companion. This was in the time before vessels were marked with tattoos. The results were disastrous—inside the wrong body, the deity couldn’t work magic. And so, the god drank poison, killing the body and freeing his soul to return to the Dreaming, where at least he would not have to watch the suffering his mistake had caused. One hundred years later, he returned to a decimated clan and built it back to a sustainable size. But he was never the same after that. Every time he returned to the Dreaming, he hid in a cave of his own making so the souls of the clan he failed would not find him. And ever after, vessels have been marked with tattoos so his mistake will not be repeated by another.”

Raan’s hands were clenched into fists. “That is a hideous story.”

“If it’s true, it means you can summon your goddess without tattoos,” Liyana pointed out. “All you have to do is dance while a magician chants.”

Raan turned away from her.

“First, though, we need to free the deities so they can be summoned,” Fennik said.

“Will we . . . will we have to kill anyone to free my goddess?” Pia’s voice quivered.

Still watching Raan, Liyana shook her head and answered for Korbyn. “No. If they were in a person, they’d have killed themselves already.” Raan blanched at that, but Liyana continued. “Whatever trap they’re in, it has to be something they can’t destroy. We will have to destroy it for them.”

“Then how do we—” Pia began.

“I thought it was obvious that I’m winging it.” Korbyn smiled, and the smile lit up his entire face.

“Ooh, big powerful deity has a plan,” Raan said.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” Korbyn swept his hand to indicate the horses. “Fennik and I are horse traders. We have come to view their horses and show them ours in the hopes of establishing trade between the Horse Clan and the Crescent Empire. Once within the encampment, Fennik distracts them with fancy talk about horse fetlocks while I determine the location of the captive deities.”

All of them were silent. Liyana stroked Gray Luck’s neck.

“That’s the entire plan?” Pia asked.

“Simple plans are the best,” Korbyn said.

“Think of another plan,” Liyana ordered. “You could be caught.”

“I’ll be tricky.” Korbyn wiggled his fingers at them. “Trickster god, remember?”

“And what are we supposed to do while you are being ‘tricky’?” Raan asked. “Twiddle our thumbs and hope for the best?”

For once, Liyana was in complete agreement with Raan. He couldn’t expect her to sit idly by and wait for him to be captured, or worse. She put her hand on his arm. “If they’re kidnapping gods, you can’t just wander in!”

“I won’t wander; I’ll ride,” Korbyn said. “You three need to find a grove of trees. Stay hidden. Stay safe. Liyana is skilled enough to take care of your food and water needs. Once I know the situation, Fennik or I will return for you.” He patted her hand.

Abruptly she realized she was clinging to him. Releasing him, she backed away. She felt as if she heard roaring in her ears. “A million things could go wrong. Please, Korbyn.”

“Have a little faith.” He grinned at his word play.

“Your body is mortal with mortal limitations,” Pia said.

Liyana reached out again. Her fingertips brushed his cheek. “Korbyn, you think you need to save the entire desert by yourself. You keep forgetting you’re not alone.”

His grin faded. “My problem is that I can’t forget that.”

Liyana’s breath caught in her throat as he held her gaze.

“She must be rescued,” Korbyn said gently.

In the light of dawn, the encampment seemed to spread endlessly in all directions. Liyana wondered if this was what the sea looked like—each tent a wave crest, all poised to roll over her beloved desert. She watched Korbyn and Fennik lead the horses down the slope. They slowly picked their way around the rocks and bushes. At the base, they allowed the horses to graze for several minutes before they waded forward into the tall, golden grasses.

Liyana felt as if she were the one exposed out there on the plain. Every muscle felt like a knot, and her heart thudded inside her chest. She watched Korbyn and wished she could see his face. “Keep him safe,” she whispered, though she knew no one would hear her prayer.

The slow speed had been Korbyn’s idea—he’d said it would present them as harmless. Fennik had agreed, and they’d spent the bulk of the night meticulously planning their approach as if it were an elaborate performance. But watching their show was torture.

As they reached the halfway point, a trio of guards cantered toward them. Crisp white, their uniforms reflected the sun. Brimmed hats shielded their faces from the sun and from view. Scarlet scarves covered their necks. “Please,” Liyana whispered, again to no one.

Liyana saw Fennik sweep his arms open to gesture at the horses. She imagined she could hear him say the words that they’d rehearsed last night. The guards didn’t unsheathe their swords—she would have seen the metal flash in the sun—but they were too far away for her to tell if their hands were on their hilts.

“Lovely to see the boys working together, isn’t it?” Raan said behind her.

Liyana jumped. Absorbed in the show on the plains, she hadn’t heard the other girl approach. “I should have insisted on going.”

“You’re needed to babysit me in case I decide to avoid my ‘fate’ by crossing the border.”

The bitterness in Raan’s voice felt like a slap. Liyana didn’t know what to say—Raan wasn’t wrong, though none of them had voiced that concern out loud. Side by side, in silence, they watched the figures of Korbyn, Fennik, and the guards on the plain.

Softly Raan asked, “If I find a way to save the clans and our lives, will you do it?”

“And save the deities?” Liyana asked.

“I can’t promise that,” Raan said.

“Then I can’t promise either.”

Raan was silent. Escorted by the guards, Korbyn and Fennik led the horses toward the encampment. At last Raan said, “Pia sent me to tell you that we’re low on food.”

Scooting back from the edge, Liyana joined Raan for the trek to the tent. They’d picked a grove of leafless trees about a mile from the hills as their camp. It was mostly obscured from view by the thick tangle of branches. If they huddled inside the tent with all of their supplies, chances were that a patrol on the ridge wouldn’t see them. Or at least that was the hope.

Pia popped out of the tent to greet them.

“You know, it might not have been us,” Raan said. “You should stay in the tent until you’re sure it’s safe.” She squatted next to the tent and took a gulp from her waterskin. “Getting low on water, too.” She waved the waterskin at Liyana.

“You shuffle your toes when you walk,” Pia said. “Liyana lengthens her stride every few steps. I am always careful. If they catch us, it will be because they know where to look.” She scooted inside the tent, again out of view from the hills.

“I can’t summon water like Korbyn,” Liyana said, joining Pia in the tent. Without the boys the tent felt empty, and without the horses the camp felt deserted. She missed the comforting stamp of hooves, and she wished Gray Luck were here. She hadn’t realized how used to the horse’s presence she’d become. “Get ready for lots of tubers.”

“Let me know how I can help,” Raan said as she crawled into the tent. She stretched out and then put her arms behind her head. Both Liyana and Pia sat at the edges. “I know it’s not the same as your special time with Korbyn. . . .”

Liyana felt herself stiffen. “Excuse me?”

Raan waved her hand. “You two. Always swapping stories. Laughing about something. At night you comfort away his nightmares. A person begins to feel like she’s intruding.”