Falling for the Sultan Who Ordered My Death novel · Chapter 27 of 32
Chapter 27: The Dry Channel
"Three days on a caravan is five," said the salt-mother. "Three days on my sons' racing camels is two and a half, if you don't sleep."
"Then we don't sleep," said Tamir.
"You're coming?" I said to her.
She was already shouting for saddles.
"Forty years I sold salt to that palace," she said over her shoulder. "I've never once seen a Grand Vizier fall on his face."
"I'm not missing it for a camel's backache."
Before we left, Tamir cut a length of cord from his borrowed shirt.
He tied it with the falconer's knot and handed it to the rider who'd brought the news.
"Ride ahead. Go to the Scent House at the bottom of the Street of Dyers. Give this to the girl with the burned hands."
"Tell her the knot's for my sister. Tell her, under the palace, the night before."
The rider looked at the knot in his palm.
Then he got back on his exhausted camel.
We reached the foot of the rock below Ammareth two nights later, an hour before dawn.
The oasis was dying.
I smelled it before I saw it.
Palm fronds gone brittle. Mud cracked in the irrigation ditches. Fig trees dropping their fruit unripe.
The rest of this chapter is part of the paid portion of the series. Chapters 1–16 of Falling for the Sultan Who Ordered My Death are free to read — start from the beginning, then unlock the rest with coins in the app.
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