The three of them limped slowly through the building, Tamina following Bis blindly as they avoided soldiers still doggedly searching through what she now realised was an entire barracks.

"This place is like a … rabbit warren ..." She panted, quickly tugging the makeshift bandage they had wrapped around Dastan's shoulder back into place as they rounded yet another corner.

"Homes and bigger buildings all joined together," Bis muttered in reply, his eyes darting around, with one hand tightly gripping his sword while the other clutched at the Prince's body.

Though they kept hurrying, the sounds of the soldiers' armour and shouts became softer and less frequent, and Tamina eventually begged them to stop moving, exhausted. Even though she had spent the last few days scurrying across the desert with the Persian Prince, most of the distance had been covered by horses and hadn't been as harrowing. Though they always knew that it wouldn't be long before someone started following behind them, they had never been so close to their enemy before now, and though this wasn't the time to be glib, Tamina had to admit that fleeing was hard work.

But Dastan's brother had surprised her. In the rare moments when he had spoken of his family, she had seen the love and respect Dastan felt for his father and two brothers, and had assumed that it was a mutual affection between them all. But seeing Garsiv's fury and hearing his harsh words, she had to wonder if what she had thought was even true.

Then she wondered why she even cared to know.

But her thoughts were interrupted when Bis opened one last door, leading them out into a deserted lane. The moon shone bright above them and Tamina breathed in the cool night air, glad to be outside and in the open once more.

"Princess," Bis whispered urgently, waving her over to where he stood by a lone horse what whickered softly, attempting to wake Dastan enough to properly mount up. "Can you … he needs to be held in … can you?"

Despite the situation, Tamina couldn't help but be amused at the way he addressed her. During their outing today she had managed to convince the poor man not to treat her like royalty, but she knew that for the lower classes some habits were hard to unlearn. Touching his shoulder lightly to still his nervousness, she gripped the saddle and swung herself up behind where Dastan now awkwardly sat, hunched forward and loosely clutching at the horse's mane.

"Dastan," she murmured in the man's ear, hesitantly tugging at his waist to try and straighten the way he sat, worried that he may topple as soon as they started moving. "You need to shift. Just to the side here … Okay?"

"Cold," he bit out, his voice wavering. Almost immediately a bundle of cloth was pressed into the Princess' hand, and she looked down at Bis.

"His cloak," he told her, moving to untie the reins from the pillar beside them, then handing them back to Tamina. "Go down this lane. Just go straight, don't stop 'til you see a half crumbled building. There's a stall for the horse and a cellar underneath it."

"You're not coming?" She asked, regretting the nervous tone in her own voice when she asked the question. Suddenly the fears she had that morning returned, and she fretted about where she was, what would happen, how she could keep the dagger safe in a city she didn't even know. Right now she didn't even have Dastan's confident smirk to rally her and settle her mind – only Bis' blind assurance that she'd be alright with the almost unconscious Prince.

"It's just the blood, he'll be fine with food and drink and sleep. It's all packed in these," he told her, slapping a hand against the bulging saddle bags strapped either side of the saddle. Pointing at the Prince's shoulder, Bis told her, "Clean that? Wash, pad, wrap, and he can't use the arm much or it'll tear. Do you know how to use a blade?"

Glancing down at his again, Tamina saw that he was sliding Dastan's twin blades into their sheaths, tucking them in with the rest of their supplies. "I can manage," she assured him, though again she fretted about how true that actually was. Basic defence was one thing, but what if Garsiv and his men found them? She'd be helpless.

"Good," Bis said, nodding eagerly. I gotta go back. Go, quickly Princess. And …" Pausing to glance around the still empty street, he quietly begged her, "Please take care of him," before darting back through the door they had escaped from.

Sighing, Tamina took another deep breath and slid an arm tightly around the Prince's stomach, wrapping the reins up in her other hand and urging the horse forward.

They trotted forward slowly, and the Princess pressed herself close against Dastan's back both to see over his shoulder and to hopefully keep him warm as they moved on.

"You're not allowed to faint," she told him jokingly, her voice light even though she meant every word. "If you fall in the mud I'm going to leave you there."

She felt his shoulders shake slightly with laugher, and smiled.

The adrenaline still coursing through her veins made everything feel like it was happening at record speed, and so it felt as if it only took seconds for her to reach the building Bis had described. Several other homes and awnings were crowded around it, but most looked as run down as the one she was heading toward. Several horses were clustered under an awning a few doors over, and Tamina wondered for a moment if that was where Bis had meant for her to rest theirs.

"Psst!"

Startled, the Princess tugged the horse to a halt, her grip on Dastan tightening.

"Psst!"

Looking around wildly, she soon saw a small boy – skin and bone, covered in the grimiest clothes she had seen – peering out through a shadowed window. The boy didn't come out, but he pointed over to the other horses. Frowning, she asked, "Over there?"

The boy nodded only once but stayed where he was, watching her and the Prince intently.

Smiling in thanks, she shifted the horse around and moved them forward, dismounting carefully so as not to knock the Prince. Tethering the horse with the rest, she then looked up at Dastan, wondering how on earth she was going to get him down and over to the building they were supposed to hide in.

"Psst!"

The boy was a lot closer this time, fidgeting nervously in the dark of another awning next to the horse's make-shift stable. Tamina just looked at him, worried that if she spoke he might spook and run off. So she stood still, one hand resting on Dastan's leg while the other ran over the horse's neck, keeping the beautiful creature calm.

"Is the Prince okay?" Said the boy, his small voice muffled by the hands he clutched nervously near his mouth.

Glancing up at Dastan, the Princess saw that his eyes were open slightly, though his breathing was even more laboured than before. "Are you okay, Prince?" she asked him softly.

"Just a scratch," Dastan said eventually, his voice wavering. "From sword fighting."

The boy's eyes widened in awe, and he scampered away shortly after that.

With Dastan's help, Tamina soon had him down from the horse with one arm slung over her shoulder, her own arm wrapped around his back. She helped him slowly walk over to the decaying building, push the door open, and walk inside. Dust and sand and a single broken chair was all that lay inside the old hut, and Tamina wondered how anyone could let a place fall into such disrepair. But she had no time to worry over that, instead leading Dastan over to where she could see a clear indentation in the woodwork of the floor.

"Get the … supplies," Dastan told her, taking his arm away from her and lowering himself to the ground, tugging the door to the cellar open. "I'll get down."

She would have protested if she hadn't already been wondering how on earth she was going to help him down those stairs without both of them falling into a heap on the ground. That would have done more help than good. Nodding, she hurried back outside, removing both of the saddle bags as well as Dastan's cloak and twin blades, before getting to work on removing the horse's saddle. By the time she was finished and had carried everything back to the steps leading to the cellar, Tamina was aching all over, and she felt as if she could barely keep her eyes open.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs and placing their supplies aside, she climbed back up to close the hatch door, before resting back against the wooden staircase and taking a look around.

The cellar was dimly lit with two flaming torches on two opposing dirt and clay walls – it looked as if this place had been picked and lit for them long before the attack had started. But even with that small amount light, it was quite obvious that this place hadn't been used in quite some time. Refuse and dusty items littered the floor, and she could see old, mostly broken pitchers lining one shelf. The shelf itself looked like it was holding to the wall for dear life. In the middle of it all, Dastan lay sprawled on the floor, cradling his injured shoulder with a frown of pain marring his face. Tamina knew that no matter how tired she was now, she couldn't rest until she had seen to his wound.

Dragging everything over to where he lay, the Princess sank to her knees and looked for the things she would need, all while Dastan was just laying there, eyes closed. Only the sound of his heavy breathing filled the air. Taking a steadying breath of her own once she had all the items laid out in front of her, Tamina looked to the wounded Prince and felt butterflies take flight in her stomach.

"Dastan? You'll need to move so I can remove this shirt." The shoulder of it was torn and ruined anyway, and the blood stain in the light coloured fabric meant that it probably couldn't be used again. No amount of washing could remove that much blood. Slowly unwrapping the bandage and revealing the blood-soaked padding they had used earlier, Tamina removed both and looked at the mangled skin beneath, her breath drawing in on a sharp gasp.

Dastan moved then, pushing himself up with his one good arm and gingerly pulling the ruined shirt away from his body.

Tamina, who hadn't even realised she had been holding her breath, let it out quickly and averted her eyes for just a moment.

She couldn't help it. The human body was not an alien thing to her, and she had certainly seen a man's torso in the flesh before. But viewing the slender form of an older guardian during their prayers and ceremonies and looking upon the lithe body of a warrior in his prime now were two completely different things. To distract her mind from the sight she busied herself with cleaning the wound, careful not to press too hard or to rub the angry, torn flesh, clearing the majority of the dried blood away.

But even her lightest touch was too much for Dastan, who finally slumped against the cool clay floor, unconscious.

Knowing he was unaware of her movements now made the task a lot easier, and Tamina could work a little quicker – though his body still distracted her, and not just because of how sculpted and defined he appeared to be. Many scars and blemishes marked what skin she could see, and she found herself wondering just how many more were still hidden from her sight. This wound was only one of many, but would eventually just become one more scar on a body that had been through many trials already in this life.

That thought lead to another, and the Princess found her gaze dragging up his torso to his face, which had thankfully relaxed now. Without the worry or pain distorting his features, Tamina marvelled at how serene he looked. If only she could erase her own worries in such a way. She didn't know what lay ahead, or what the Gods had planned for her, but she was somewhat thankful now that she had this man at her side to help combat whatever trials they needed to face. Her only wish was that he would suffer no more for his involvement. Once already he had helped her battle his Uncle for her and for the dagger, and he had lost every single one of his loved ones in the process. Then to be thrown back in time to repeat the same fate, understanding what could happen without truly being able to predict it, all the while knowing that he could very well lose everything he held dear all over again …all for her … it had to be frustrating and terrifying all at once.

No, that wasn't right. Both in his time and now he had needed her help to overturn the crimes that had been laid at his feet and to thwart his Uncle's plans to rewrite history. Their futures were entwined – destiny – but they both fought toward the same end for different reasons.

But ultimately, the dagger was what caused it all.

Tightening the knot on the new bandage around his shoulder, she gathered his cloak to her, shaking it out and placing it around his body, covering him and hiding his skin from sight. Her eyes then drifted down to his leather boots and the slight bulge to the side of one of them. Glancing back up to make sure he still slumbered, Tamina tentatively slid her hand down, clasping the hilt of the dagger and drawing it free. Sitting back, she held the item in both hands, tilting the blade to make the few grains of remaining sand trickle from one end of its glass hilt to the other. Only a quarter of what the dagger could hold was left now. That was barely enough time to take a step or two forward, let alone change any critical moment that might arise.

Lifting her golden necklace and the bejewelled glass clasp that was suspended from it, she flipped the caps on both items and poured the last of her supply of Sand into the dagger's hilt. She didn't want to use the dagger unwisely, and had berated Dastan for that very thing not too long ago, but with the situation they found themselves in she didn't want to chance it.