17
AMMAD
Wheezing after sparring with four of his guards, the Crown Prince of Drome rested on one side of the sandy fighting pit to allow the next group to train and to catch his breath. Ammad watched his brother. His mother Jakira had insisted for months that he bring Selmi along, and Ammad had finally relented. Sel was tall and wiry, friendly rather than ferocious. He was a decent camel rider but not in the slightest bit competitive. He had been riding since he was three, and Jakira affectionately joked that “Selmi could ride before he could walk,” but Ammad doubted it. I am definitely a better rider than he is.
A guard broke Sel’s defence and stabbed him with a wooden sword. Instead of getting angry and forcing his opponent back, his brother shouted, “Great shot!”. He’ll be eaten al
