I regained consciousness at dawn.

It was Lord Terrowin that roused me as the cart came skidding to a sudden halt and he seized my shoulders and pushed me into the sand. His silhouette eclipsed the rising sun as he looked down upon me, shoving the heel of his boot into my neck.

"This is where we part," he stated. "I can't have you following me. But I cannot kill you directly myself," he dropped is voice as he pushed down roughly, "so I will leave it to the desert to decide what to do with you. There is another line of storms coming this way. You most likely won't survive the night."

He left me with my hands bound, and I watched the cart take off again in a fury of dust.

I freed myself from the ropes once there was no trace left of the Necromancer. The desert became hills of sand in this area, so the surrounding horizon was concealed.

But the raging rumble of a distant storm trembled over the hills and I shuddered as I felt it.

You can't survive this. He has the lamp, and you're miles away from any shelter now.

I trudged upon the highest hill in sight and faced the distant clouds on the horizon; they churned hotly across the sky. I could almost feel the stinging sand already.

I thought of Jasmine, as I had seen her last. She didn't know there were two wishes still left.

Except they were gone now, and as for me, well I guess that's when I realized I should never have rubbed the lamp in the first place.

I never imagined living in a world that did not have my mother in it.

She was always so beautiful, so happy, lively, and full of secrets. How could she leave us? Why would she leave us?

Her illness was not something anyone within the span of the entire desert could understand, even me. Countless doctors had called upon her to assess her ailment—she cannot move, she cannot speak, though she appears fine. What is it? Is she cursed?

Could a wish take it away?

I stared at her sleeping face. My father told me himself: her days were now numbered. The royal physician had detected a grave change in her condition and suggested that everyone say their goodbyes, for her time was now approaching. Tarana was silenced; she locked herself in her room to grieve. That is the way of my family. The sultan hid his anguish well, though he was solemn as the next couple of days passed with uncertainty.

We all had thought she would get better.

I need to find the lamp, I thought. I will wish it myself.

But I had not seen or heard from Aladdin for some time now. And I figured he could be gone forever. To think about him left something enormously hallow inside me, and so I allowed my mother's dying state to consume me for days in order not to think about it.

The palace was quiet now. The greatest sounds came from above- when a passing storm tumbled over the kingdom and back out into the wild, driving sand into the streets and gardens. I only cried when there was a storm for this reason.

It was as if the plight of Lord Terrowin was already forgotten, at least within the walls of the palace. I didn't see Sam at all after the night we went after the Necromancer. My father had increased security and this affair kept the guards busy. The feeling of loneliness was returning to me now, and with it brought a change to me I wished to be only temporary.

My advisor, Ezra, stopped by my room one morning to tell me the sultan was summoning me to a council meeting that afternoon. Undoubtedly he wanted to talk about burial plans for my mother. The thought made me sick.

I stayed in her room until noon, sitting beside her and listening to her breathe. Her breath was soft and shallow. She did not open her eyes.

In the sun tower, I sat beside Tarana at the round table. All of the royal advisors were present, so Ezra sat beside me. Next to my father, Sam was seated. There were also two other captains and a few of the highest nobles in the kingdom. I could not fathom why the room was so filled.

When the sultan spoke, the room fell silent and somber.

"For those of you who have not yet been told: there is talk of war between this kingdom and the Lost Cities. I am sorry to admit that these words are true. I've received confident notification from our spies there that an army is being built, and the rulers there are forming an alliance to siege and take over the entirety of the desert, our kingdom included. We must now prepare for war."

I looked to Tarana, but her face was hardened. She must've known already. This news cast a morbid silence over the room.

"We will begin gathering weapons and supplies tomorrow," the sultan continued, "the kingdom must go on lockdown. The gates are to be fortified and the villagers must be armed." He turned to my cousin now, his words addressing just him, "I need you to build me an army and lead it. The palace security will lend itself to the kingdom as a whole. I know I can trust you with this."

"I knew it was only a matter of time before they disturbed the peace!" An elderly noble remarked venomously.

My father sighed deeply. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Briefly—and so fast, I would've missed it if I had blinked—he glanced my way and looked at me in the eyes.

"We will need a great deal of unity within our kingdom," he continued, "and that is on all fronts. Morale in the village must be well maintained in the red light of this war. And due to recent circumstances with the queen," his voice lowered here, "It is my wish that we strengthen the ties of the royal family."

I sat up, because maybe deep down I knew what was coming.

"A betrothal between my daughter the princess and my nephew was broken some time ago, as history has been written. It was a union foretold as significant to the kingdom—one that could provide light through whatever darkness could come this way. After years of peace and prosperity, we all find ourselves here in this room due to the inevitability of an oncoming war. I'm saying here first what I intend to announce to the kingdom within a fortnight: the betrothal of my daughter the Princess Sireen and my nephew, Sam of House Summerlight, will be hereby renewed as it stood originally, upon not only my own wishes but of my sister who we all remember with sorrow."

Our eyes met and locked on to each other's in a confusing, icy stare. Sam was still coolly composed, but somehow I knew this was just as a surprise to him. I felt a tremendous amount of heat rise up upon my neck and for a moment the pressure and significance of my father's words threatened to suffocate me. Neither of us uttered a word.

"She will pull through," Tarana said suddenly from beside me, "the queen is stronger than they think." Her tone was bitter, dripping with anger. I grabbed her hand beneath the table and held it tight, allowing her fingers to dig into mine to keep the tears from falling.

The sultan pursed his lips. "We will never give up on her, my daughter. But it is time you took on new responsibilities now that your succession is on the horizon. In matters of war, you will seek diplomatic solutions. You will have to organize a troop to go to the Lost Cities and negotiate with the leaders there."

I secretly felt Tarana's hand begin to tremble.

When the meeting was adjourned, I was the first one to the stairs.

I was putting as much space as I could between me and those voices and I moved swiftly through the palace, making it all the way past the gardens when a voice said my name, willing me to stop.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Sam said, his words earnest. He stood at the terrace stairs behind me.

I turned and regarded him silently.

He came closer. "We can make it through this," he continued kindly, "I know it may not be what you want, but don't be afraid. Everything will be okay."

"Sam," I said weakly, "everything is falling apart."

He shook his head. "It isn't. I'm more than prepared to lead this army—and the queen is strong. She may make it through this. But if you and I are betrothed again and you are unhappy, then I am at a disadvantage, and so are you. We must learn to trust each other."

I gazed at him and remembered how he looked all those years ago, that night we discovered the lamp in the desert. I remembered how I had trusted him then, my greatest companion. We had been inseparable until that night. And now here we were, more strangers than cousins.

"I am unhappy because I feel as if everything that is happening now is wrong. And it's been wrong since you were taken away. Sam," I said, feeling my walls begin to crumble inside of me, "something bad happened to you that night and I know it changed you somehow. I don't know if you are truly my cousin-"

He cut the space between us and grasped my shoulders. "It is me!" he insisted, "I swear it. Okay?" Sam's eyes bore deep into mine. I was momentarily startled by his outburst, his sudden reveal of frustration.

"I've been fighting to come back here for the past ten years," he said solemnly, "and now that I've made it, I've sworn to make everything right again, as it was before. Forget what happened that night. It's in the past."

You have no reason not trust him, I thought. I've been evading him all this time for nothing.

He must have sensed my remorse, or my confliction. His eyes flickered with inspiration. "Remember," he said evenly, "the time they took us to the river, that summer it rained and flooded the desert?"

I remembered right away.

"We were in a small boat, just the two of us," he continued, "because Tarana had chosen to stay with the others. My mother was worried that a current would pick up and suddenly drive us away from them-"

"—and that's exactly what happened," I finished for him.

He nodded, his eyes looking into mine with sincerity. "We drifted for an hour on that current, away from our protectors and everyone we knew. The desert swallowed us whole and alone, but we weren't afraid. That's because we were together, and together we were the bravest kids I ever knew."

I did remember. We were only seven, but for some reason it had not occurred to us to be afraid. As the boat sailed down the river upon the current and occasionally thrashed about against the bank, we held on tight and shouted at imaginary foes pursuing us in the water. When the small boat passed a river lizard lurking in the murky depths with just its eyeballs peeking through, we silenced each other and seized the oars as weapons, ready to fight should the beast decide to attack. It did not.

Together we escaped the boat as it took us farther and farther away from the others, and by some miracle we were reunited with our frantic family again. To us, it was as if we had been on a grand adventure that took us to a territory of real peril. It was an epic day in the life of the children who played in the desert with makeshift weapons of stone, battling invisible demons and small sand snakes.

I did not realize right away that was I was smiling at these memories.

"After this war," Sam said, "if we decide we still don't want to be betrothed I will speak to the sultan and do what I can. I just want you to be happy. All of this will pass and we will be brave, won't we?"

Whatever doubt I had towards Sam melted away inside of me. For the first time, I threw my arms around his neck and held onto him tightly. At first he was rigid, but then his arms embraced me back.

"Sireen." My sister's tense voice broke our silence. I pulled away from Sam as she approached us somberly. "Father has broken your restriction to the palace due to the war. I need you to oversee the village as they prepare for a possible attack. The woman and children will need guidance from a female leader—and as I will most likely be leaving soon, it must be you who goes to them."

Here, her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to us. "But mark my words: if you abuse this freedom or go missing, you will only damage our efforts of overcoming this plight."

I felt a surge of anger at her accusation. "Tarana," I said deliberately, "it wasn't me who brought a Necromancer into this palace and let him loose into the desert-"

"You know what I'm talking about," she interrupted hotly, glancing between me and Sam.

She thinks I'm going to run away because of the renewed betrothal.

I let my anger go. It wasn't worth fighting with her about it, especially when our mother's dying state left the both of us so weak inside. Wordlessly, I slipped my hand into Sam's and we stood facing her together.

Her face softened at this. "So," she said tiredly, "the cousins have finally been reunited. Good. We're going to need you guys to cooperate until we sort all this out. And don't let anyone believe there's any possibility that you could reject this betrothal. Our family strength rests upon your union."

Tarana walked away, and Sam turned towards me.

"Tonight," he said, "can we meet again? There is something I want to show you."

I raised my eyebrows. What could it possibly be? This is my palace, I thought.

He smiled widely—something I had not seen since his return. I nodded daftly in response, and he squeezed my hand. "I will see you here," he said, and there we departed.

The cousins have finally been reunited, she had said. Had I detected contempt in her tone? Wasn't I supposed to be happy that Sam and I were again betrothed?

I cannot say what it was I felt, because deep down I was happy to be reunited with Sam. He was my oldest and truest friend.

But it didn't change the fact that he had been gone all that time, and why.

I remembered Aladdin, and how he had said we'd run away to the desert. How I had so readily believed him, and how quickly that all had changed.

Maybe things were happening too quickly, but I had not the power to slow them.