Excerpt from Spice Road by Maiya Ibrahim, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Dalila, why are you here?" I ask, turning my back on him. "You should be in school."

She shifts on her feet. "Well, yes, we were supposed to be, but Amira ... she's in trouble."

Not again. I have lost count of how many times my sister has played truant this past year, and I have dreaded the moment her truancy leads to something worse.

"Honestly, when are Imani's siblings not in trouble?" remarks Feyrouz, one of Taha's beautiful but mean-spirited squadmates.

Snickers chorus behind me. I pivot and scan their sneering faces for even a hint of shame, but I would have better luck finding guilt amongst thieves. They are too emboldened by Taha's position as the Grand Zahim's eldest son to fear getting in trouble for mocking a Councilmember's niece. Happily, Sara is not cowed. She descends from a proud, wealthy clan of merchants, and there have been more than just a handful of famous warriors among their ranks.

"Word of advice, Taha, seeing as this is still very new to you: encouraging nastiness is unbecoming to someone of your station." She snatches the tea tray off the floor as if she means to strike him with it. It isn't necessary; her riposte seems to have sprouted a hand and slapped Taha across the cheek, how sour he looks. She nods at the door. "I can finish up, Imani. You go."

I salute her. "Thank you. Please tell Captain Ramiz I'll return to training as soon as I can."

"Don't worry about it," Taha interjects. "I'm sure this situation will be kept hush-hush, the way you're used to."

My pulse stutters. The other Shields frown, several exchanging confused glances.

"What are you talking about?" Sara asks.

I cut Taha the most murderous look I can muster, hoping he finds in it a promise to shut his mouth if he is incapable of doing it himself.

He calmly stares back at me. "Oh, it's nothing. Right, Imani?"

I can hardly believe it. The first substantial thing Taha has said to me in two years, and he makes it about my brother. After Atheer disappeared, it was discovered he had been stealing misra from the Sanctuary, a telltale sign of magical obsession. By a majority, the Council determined to keep the matter secret to protect my clan's reputation. Judging by how chafed Taha is about it, I doubt his father was pleased with the verdict. But this is neither the time nor the place to address him.

"Yes, nothing," I mutter as I shepherd Dalila out and close the door behind us. The lightness I should have felt escaping his intimidating presence is swiftly substituted for dread. "What happened to Amira?" I ask.

Dalila breaks into a jog down the sandstone corridor. "We were riding outside the walls, and when we stopped for a break, her horse—your brother's horse, I mean—he snapped his tether and bolted."

My chest twinges at the second abrupt mention of Atheer this morning. "You mean Raad, the black stallion?"

She nods. We descend the ceremony hall's main spiral stairwell and cross the shadowy, lantern-lit vestibule, enveloped in the clashing scents of burning incense and the tea ceremonies happening upstairs. The sunny quadrangle outside is wall-to-wall with Shields grouped around their sparring squadmates, their stern-faced seniors watching on and barking advice. Magic fills the air alongside the strident quarrel of swords—in the middle of the large group before us, a Shield shoots a ball of fire from his palms, but the onrushing flames are smothered by his opponent manipulating a cyclonic gust of wind.

"Amira sneaks him away from your place whenever we go riding," Dalila breathlessly explains as I carefully navigate her past a surge of superheated air. "He's always been a little unruly, but today was something else. You'd think a devil was in the saddle caning him! When he started for the Forbidden Wastes—"

My eyes bug. "The Forbidden Wastes?"

"Hey, I told her to let him go, I warned her of the evil things living in there, but she refused to listen."

Excerpted from Spice Road by Maiya Ibrahim. Copyright © 2023 by Maiya Ibrahim. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.