“And last, we have our Life Champion, Adil Asfour!”

Karina’s irritation mounted as Adil shuffled onstage. Their eyes met, and she shot him a death glare that made him squirm. Good. He deserved it for making a fool of her during the raid.

“Hello,” Adil said, his voice cracking. Unlike the princely outfit the boy had worn during the First Challenge, his clothes tonight consisted of a single long-sleeved tunic over breeches and a cloth sash around his waist. If Driss had looked like a king, then Adil looked like a common storyteller. The boy’s eyes were panicked as he held up his pitiful bag. “I’m going to tell you a Hyena tale.”

The audience had already lost interest in Adil’s performance. Hyena tales were so common that unless one was as gifted as the most talented griot, it was a waste of time using them to impress anyone. At this rate, even if a goddess had chosen him, there was no way Adil was going to win Solstasia, so at least Karina wouldn’t have to feel guilty murdering someone who had helped her. Behind Tunde, Adil was likely the person she wanted to kill the least, and she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“But before I begin . . . Princess Karina, I wanted to thank you for last night. It was . . . I really appreciated your help.”

Karina shot up in her seat as whispers broke out around her. She knew he was referring to her rescuing him from the raid. However, the rest of Ziran did not, and howls filled the air as the crowd let their imaginations run wild. Karina growled; first Dedele, now Adil—clearly the Champions had made some kind of pact to provoke her today.

“Thank you for your kind words. I have been known to appear in people’s dreams from time to time, and I am glad to hear I graced yours.”

Now the audience was laughing at Adil instead of her, and Karina crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly. Adil looked down, looking ready to fold into himself as he fiddled with something tied around his wrist. He took a deep breath. The shadows lining the stage all seemed to freeze, as if waiting for his command.

“A long time ago, many moons before your grandmother or even your grandmother’s grandmother was born, Hyena was traversing the desert when she came upon a city not unlike this one. She had been journeying for many days, so she was grateful for a place to rest her weary feet and feed her donkey.”

The strange sensation of the world pulsing around Karina returned. Adil’s voice was steady and soothing, and though it echoed throughout the stadium, she almost felt him standing beside her, whispering for only her to hear. Karina shifted in her seat, warmth pooling low in her stomach. In the corner of her eye, Farid sat up straighter, always a fan of a story well told.

“Hyena was searching for a place to sleep when someone bumped into her. After exchanging apologies, she kept walking until she noticed her bag was missing. Realizing there could only be one culprit, Hyena ran after the thief to regain what was rightfully hers.”

As Adil stalked up and down the stage, the world seemed to transform around him. Karina could almost see the golden sands in place of the wooden stage and an ancient market bustling with life.

“A crowd gathered to watch Hyena fight with the young man. Throughout the ordeal, the thief kept crying, ‘Help, help—she is trying to steal my bag!’”

Karina shook her head several times. She could feel Farid seated beside her, yet she could also feel the crowd pushing around her to witness the fight, hear the screaming accusations, and even smell the fragrant cardamom and cinnamon sold in the market.

“Eventually, the two were brought before a judge to settle the matter. However, before Hyena could state her case, the thief burst into tears and cried, ‘O wise judge, I swear on my mother’s grave that this bag and everything in it belongs to me!’

“Hyena was outraged. Who was this obstinate young man who lied so easily? She drew herself up and said, ‘O wise and merciful judge, I swear to you on my life and the sultana’s life and the life of every bird that has ever flown through the heavens and every fish that swims in every sea that this bag is my bag.’”

Adil’s voice changed with every character he added to the story. Completely spellbound, the audience drank in his every word.

“The judge said, ‘The true owner of this bag should be able to tell us exactly what lies within.’

“At this, the thief stepped forward and said, ‘In the name of the Great Mother, I swear to you there is nothing in this bag but four old socks and half a broken lamp, the east wing of a library and fifteen dancing girls, a team of wise men, a pack of camels made of solid gold, enough olives to feed the sultana for six years, the tears of a bride’s mother on her wedding day, my grandfather’s favorite cloak, and a whole flock of snow-white doves who will swear to you that this bag is my bag!’”

Each of the wonders sprang forth from the actual bag in Adil’s hands. Dancing girls emerged with trailing veils softer than sunlight, followed by cooing doves and riches that shined the way only items in a dream could. Karina laughed in delight as a dove flew by.

“Not to be outdone, Hyena stepped forward and said, ‘Oh, but how he lies! The actual contents of this bag, which is my bag, are every nasty thought you’ve ever had, a flying carpet with silver tassels, an argan tree full of goats, a shepherd trying to wrangle those goats, four casks of wine made from the sweetest grapes, the smallest boat you’ve ever seen, a chorus of children who only know one song, a master cobbler and his workshop, twenty-seven copper plates, thirty-six lit candles that will never go out, the Great Mother’s left shoe, and a leather-bound tome listing all the ways this bag is really my bag!’”

It was like watching a symphony come to life, each new item from the bag another note added to the melody. Something pranced by Karina’s box—an ice bear with a pelt white as snow, who growled warmly at her as it passed. A creature one would never find in the desert.

This wasn’t just a story—it was a glimpse into another world. Adil must have pulled the audience into a trancelike state, like the traditional musicians who could hypnotize through song, and now they were seeing things that couldn’t be. Karina knew it wasn’t real, yet she didn’t care; she couldn’t take her eyes off the boy who had created this marvelous illusion.

All the nervousness that had plagued Adil at the start of his performance had vanished. He walked easily through the wonders, the master of all he had created. Throughout the story, he had been moving closer to Karina’s box until he stood a few feet away.

“Eventually, the judge put up her hand and said, ‘Either the two of you are making a mockery of me, or this bag is the most marvelous item ever to exist! Open it up so we all may see what is truly inside.’”

Adil paused. The whole audience fell silent, their attention focused on the leather bag, which had been forgotten amid the chaos.

Karina leaned forward. Adil’s night-dark eyes burned, scaring her and drawing her closer all at once.

“What was in the bag?” she asked breathlessly. Adil reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. A shiver ran down her spine as he gently twisted her palm up and upturned his bag over it.

Out fell two pieces of stale bread, a handful of figs, and a bit of rope. All the marvels disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving Adil standing alone once more. The blue tint to the world faded, but Karina was too focused on the boy in front of her to notice.

“When the true contents of the bag were revealed, Hyena simply shrugged. ‘Those aren’t my wonders. I guess that’s his bag,’ she said. And then she went on her way.”

Adil held Karina’s gaze, his mouth lifting into a shy smile. Against her better judgment, Karina smiled back.

And then the crowd roared. The sound was thunderous, louder than the applause for every other performance combined. The judges didn’t even have to say who had won the Second Challenge.

In a single night, Adil had jumped to the top of the rankings.

The smile faded from Karina’s face.

She was going to have to kill him.

21

Malik

“Without further ado, the three Champions who will compete in the final round are, in order, Adil Asfour! Driss Rhozali! And Adetunde Diakité!”

Malik was ready to topple over from exhaustion, but he raised a single hand toward the audience, who screamed in delight. Though anger radiated off Driss in waves, Tunde was a graceful loser, waving to the crowd as well, the calculating look back in his eyes.