Page 51 of Bound By Wishes

“He’s ready,” the boy announced moments later.

“Go open the door for me,” I instructed him, pulling the hood back and revealing my identity to him.

He hit the ground, his forehead brushing against the hay-covered ground.

“Get up,” I hissed as I mounted the horse, who pranced eagerly beneath me. “Go open the door.” He stumbled upright, rushing for the door and flinging it open.

I eased the horse forward, drawing up beside him. “When they ask, make sure you tell them you tried to stop me,” I instructed firmly. I booted him hard in the chest, feeling a pang of guilt as his slender body hit the ground with a thud. Urging the gray forward with a swift kick, the horse bolted, its powerful legs propelling us toward the open gate. I gave him his head, letting the horse charge ahead as we raced to the exit.

Guards rushed toward me, their shouts and clanging weapons creating a chaotic symphony as they tried to block my escape. Two of them scrambled to close the gates, the slit narrowing as I watched in rising panic. Blood and adrenaline pulsed through my veins, sharpening my focus. I urged the horse to go faster, feeling the powerful surge of muscles as we barreled toward the closing exit. I squeezed my eyesclosed as we reached the gate, the sound of clanging metal and shouting fading into the background. My legs brushed against the edge of the gate doors, barely squeezing through the narrowing gap.

Relief flooded through me, and I slumped in the saddle. But I wasn’t free yet. I still had to make it through the massive gates that separated the kingdom from the rest of the world. No one there would know I was trying to escape. So I quickly shrugged off the cloak, shoving it beneath me as I slowed the horse’s restless pace to a careful trot through the sparse marketplace. I would simply command them to open the gate and hoped beyond all hope they did as I asked. I had no idea how much authority a queen or soon-to-be queen had, but judging by how women were treated like property here, I doubted it would be much.

We finally reached the massive double doors, towering as if they stretched to the heavens. “Open the gate,” I commanded, steadying my voice.

The guards exchanged wary glances but said nothing. With labored grunts, they began turning the pulley system that opened the gates. I chewed nervously on my bottom lip. This was taking too long. I glanced down the dusty street that led to the palace, expecting to see guards descending upon me any second.

The gate creaked open, and the instant the opening was wide enough, I pressed my heels into the horse’s flanks and bolted through, not daring to look back.

My gaze fixed on the horizon and the promise of freedom it held. The sun was setting, its fading light stretching long shadows across the dunes that would help cloak my escape in darkness. I urged the horse to quicken itspace, unease prickling beneath my skin. I couldn’t afford to be caught now, not after endangering so many lives with my escape. The stakes were too high. If I failed to free Ranen from his lamp and stop the Nightshade, everything would be lost.

As we raced across the dunes, another horrible thought surfaced in my mind. Ranen had said time was different in the kingdom. Slowed to match his own agelessness. How much time had passed since I entered the Kingdon of Jalam? I had only been there a few weeks, but what about outside the gates? Weeks could be months, or even years, outside. The thought chilled me to the bone, urging me to drive the horse harder, faster, as if sheer speed might regain the time I’d lost.

The desert was a mysterious and unforgiving place. By day, the sun blazed down with a fierce intensity, turning the sands into a shimmering sea of heat. The ground, scorched by the sun, became so hot that it felt like it could melt the skin from your bones. But when the sun set and darkness fell, the desert changed. With no moisture in the air to hold in the warmth, it quickly grew frigid, leaving the once-blistering dunes icy cold under the night sky.

My teeth chattered as I pulled the worn cloak tighter around my shoulders, trying to block out the biting night breeze. The horse trotted along at a slow pace. We’d been wandering for hours without any sign of the palace guards, so I allowed the horse to move at this leisurely pace. Now my biggest worry was keeping warm enough to survive the night. I finally pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted, the cold air nipping at my exposed skin. I led the horse alongbeside me, hoping that walking might get my blood flowing and bring some warmth back into my stiff, frozen limbs.

“We should’ve been there by now,” I whined to no one in particular, but the horse’s ears laid flat against his head like he was listening.

No one in this world held my trust like Malik. If anyone was going to believe my wild tale about being taken hostage by a snarky, gorgeous genie, discovering I was a long-lost descendant of King Thalorian, and accidentally unleashing an ancient evil upon the world, it would be him. But what if he was no longer here? What if so much time had slipped by that he’d long since left the shores of Jalam? Panic flared hot within me, clawing its way up, and I fought to smother it. I couldn’t let myself think like that—not now.

As I urged the gray up the massive dune, my feet sank deep into the shifting sands with every step. I kept my gaze focused on the crescent moon above, afraid that if I looked anywhere else, I would fall into despair and give in to my fatigue. It hung delicately in the night sky, its slender arc shimmering with a silvery light that spread a soft glow over the dunes.

Amidst twinkling stars and blazing planets, you shine brighter than anything in the sky, ya amar.My moon. It used to infuriate me when Ranen called me that, but now I held onto it, using it to push me forward. What once upset me gave me the drive I needed to keep going.

I finally reached the top, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. I fell to my knees, relief flooding through me as I saw the campsite below. Nothing in that moment was more beautiful than the tents that sprawled across the desert floor.

Bright lanterns and campfires dotted the scene, creating a warm, glowing halo around the camp. Shadows danced along the edges of the canvas shelters, and the occasional plume of smoke rose into the cool night air. At this hour, everything was eerily still. No one moved about. The tents were firmly secured, their flaps tied tight against the cool desert air. The native workers huddled close to the fire, seeking warmth from the flickering flames. Everything was quiet except the occasional crackle of the kindling fire and the whisper of the wind across the vast dunes.

I led my horse down the steep incline, shushing him when he nickered softly. I didn’t want to alert everyone to my presence, especially not Mathew. When we walked past the workers, my gaze snared on the boy I’d met my first day here. What was his name? So much had happened recently that my mind was a jumbled-up mess. Hassan. That was it.

I crouched beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hassan,” I said, barely above a whisper as I lightly shook him.

The boy jolted awake, sitting up on his pallet. His hair was a tangled mess, standing on end, and he had traces of sleep still lingering in his eyes.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” I whispered, releasing his shoulder. “I don’t know if you remember me but…”

“I remember you, madam,” he answered timidly. “I thought you were dead?”

“Let’s keep it that way,” I said, glancing around. “I need you to take care of my horse. Can you do that for me?”

He stood, taking the reins from my hands. The gray flicked his tail in the air as Hassan gently led him forward.

“Please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me,” I pleaded.Hassan nodded in understanding. He and the horse vanished into the maze of tents, leaving me alone in the stillness of the night.

I glanced around cautiously before weaving my way through the tents in search of Malik. A surge of warmth filled my chest when I finally spotted his tent in the distance. I had to hold myself back from rushing in. Malik thought I was dead, and I didn’t want to scare him to death.

I approached his tent and began to untie the knot securing the flaps. My hands stilled when I glanced to the side and saw a small memorial outside his tent. It was a simple wooden cross, carved with delicate patterns, jutting out of the sand beside a softly glowing lantern. Etched into the cross were the words “In Memory of my Best Friend Cal.”

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