"The Fire-Stalkers believe they are fighting a girl," Malika told the leaders. "They will learn they are fighting the dragon of the savannah. We do not hide behind stone walls. We ride."

"Surrender is not a strategy, Gidi. It is a waiting room for death," Malika said, her voice calm but carrying across the terrace, silencing the argument below.

Malika turned, her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the distant fires. She gripped the hilt of her ancestral blade, The Sun-Shard .

"Queen Malika, your people are scared," Prime Minister Gidi said, his voice trembling. "They say it is time to surrender the eastern grain stores to buy time."

She ordered the falconers to dispatch the signal, not to retreat, but to advance.

The dust of the savannah hadn't settled, but Queen Malika stood unmoving atop the highest terrace of the Azzazian citadel. Below her, the coalition of tribal leaders argued, their voices rising like the desert wind. They doubted the 17-year-old queen could hold the line against the encroaching Fire-Stalkers.