Page 111 of The Jasad Heir

“I am not the forest’s magic. I’m yours,” she griped. “Hurry. You have moments left.”

“Essiya,” I breathed.

“Essiya,” she returned. “Or Sylvia, I suppose, which is not the name I would have chosen. You named us after Soraya’s mother. Little odd, isn’t it?” The girl spun around on the rope. “Why are you keeping me trapped? We are going to die.”

“I’m not keeping you—” I coughed, clenching my knees around the rope to keep from sliding farther down. “There are cuffs blocking my magic.”

Essiya snorted. She twisted, hanging upside down. “Would you use me without the cuffs? You never do in your dreams. We just watch our mother and everyone burn.”

“Of course I would.”

“I think,” Essiya barreled on, and Rovial’s tainted tomb, had I really been such a nuisance as a child? “I think even if your magic was free, and you had every advantage to reclaim our kingdom, you still wouldn’t save Jasad. You are content to live on the outskirts of other people’s land, a vagrant in all but name. You blame Hanim for hardening your heart, but she is dead. Your heart belongs to you again, and you refuse to give it over to Jasad. That is why Soraya wants us dead.”

I noticed belatedly my cuffs were vises around my wrists. My magic spread over my skin, numbing the worst of the poison’s effects. I resumed my climb.

“You are bold for a hallucination,” I snapped. “There are others capable of leading Jasad better than I could. What do I have other than a royal name?”

Essiya kept pace, climbing as I did. My hands were little more than raw meat, but the tingle of my magic prevented the agony from stalling my ascent.

“What else do you need?” Essiya countered. “The Mufsids and Urabi combined do not have a tenth of the power you have. Yet they fight. The Jasadis hiding in Lukub, Orban, Omal, even Nizahl—they fight. Power is a choice, Sylvia. When you choose who you are willing to fight for, you choose who you are.”

“Even if I do not win? Even if I am an insignificant wave in an ocean of resistance? There is every chance I can live a peaceful, mundane life as Sylvia. Nothing is guaranteed for Essiya. Not a good life, not victory, nothing.” The jutting lip of the cliff’s peak came into view. I grunted, tightening my stomach as I swung toward the cliffside. I kicked the hard surface, sending rocks tumbling below. “I should give up certainty, give up Sylvia, for a legion of faceless Jasadis?”

I reached for the edge of the cliff, missing by inches. One more swing, one more pull. A light touch at my wrist startled me from my destination. Essiya materialized in front of me, and we clung to the same rope. Kitmer-black eyes bored into mine. “All your choices require sacrifice. The question is, what are you willing to lose?”

Essiya released the rope, falling into the gloom. My magic slowed with her disappearance, and a cry tumbled from my lips at the renewed sensation in my palms. With a guttural shout, I hauled myself up the last foot, hooking my arm over the cliff’s edge. I plunged the dagger into the dirt and dragged myself onto solid land. As soon as my knees were on the earth, I crawled away from the sheer drop and discarded the dagger. My blood left smears on the hilt.

A beat. I exhaled, tearing the cloth from behind my head. My magic receded more, exposing me to a riot of agony.

Countless lanterns seared into my eyes. Thousands of faces moved in my periphery, but none the one I wanted. The gathered masses gaped at me.

“The Nizahl Champion joins the Orban and Omal Champions in the second trial!” the announcer boomed.

The crowd exploded.

The cheering was muted, the spectators’ colors reduced to moving dots on a rapidly darkening landscape. A tall figure appeared from the frenzied dots. “Sylvia?” Arin called. His low voice was the best sound I had ever heard. The Commander swore. “Get the canvas!”

I stitched together the words I needed and held up my palm. “Sap,” I croaked. “For twenty minutes.”

The last of my magic dissipated, and I sagged into Arin’s chest. The Nizahl Heir’s arms went around me, and I distantly registered that he was shouting, but I had ceased to care. He was warm and strong, and he smelled like the rain that never fell in Ayume.

I breathed Arin in, my head slumping over the crook of his arm as Ayume’s air finally put me to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Iwould very much appreciate it if you could stop trying to kill me,” Sefa said when I woke up. The physician jerked in the chair, then rushed to my side. My palms were wrapped tightly, but the worst sensation was the foul taste in my mouth. I was still in my quarters in the pavilion, so I couldn’t have slept long. A day at most. I curled my toes and stretched, relieved when my muscles complied. I must have bled out the poison faster than my body absorbed it.

“You know, I expressed the same sentiment to Ayume,” I said, slapping aside the physician’s hands and sitting upright. Affronted, the medic stomped to his bag and bustled from the room. “Where’s Marek?”

“He went patrolling with some of the soldiers,” Sefa replied. “For someone who hates the Nizahl army as vigorously as Marek does, he certainly is capable of endearing himself to soldiers.”

I grinned at Sefa until distress crawled across the other girl’s expression. She probably thought I had suffered some mental affliction.

“You and Marek will not enter Nizahl. I made certain of it,” I said. “Vaida will be displeased, but I have an idea to make sure she doesn’t retaliate.”

“Made certain of it how?” On cue, her brows pinched, forming Sefa’s six columns of stress in her forehead.

“I did not slaughter any squalling babes, Sefa,” I said. Timur was a fully grown adult when I drowned him. “What matters now is you and Marek can stay in Omal after the second trial without needing to accompany us to Nizahl.”

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