Page 46 of The Jasad Heir

I palpated the corner of my black eye and tried not to feel smug.

The specter of last night rose in the kitchen, thickening the air. My escape attempt hadn’t helped my relationship with the guards.

“I cannot be expected to live like this,” I said, a hair too loudly. “This food is barely suitable for vermin.”

Ignoring Vaun’s murderous glare, I listed my grievances. They had stewed over the hours. “The lavatory was clearly intended to function with magic. Have you seen it? Abominable. My current stench alone could be used as a weapon. I have no garments, and the sole company I am permitted to keep is a handful of soldiers whose conversational skills peaked in the womb.”

Arin unbuttoned his coat. “Good morning to you, too.”

I scowled, gesturing to the windowless walls. “I have seen no evidence of either.”

Jeru released a sound between a laugh and a strangled hiccup. He covered his mouth.

Arin tipped his head to Jeru and Wes. “There are parcels near the stairs. Take them to her room.”

Parcels?

“Are they for me?”

“They’re for the vermin.” He glanced at my bowl. “Are you finished?”

I pushed away from the table. “Evidently.”

We walked to the training center. I fidgeted with the sleeves of my borrowed tunic, still too tight around my biceps. I avoided the walls alive with birds and my dead family.

“How long has your magic been blocked?”

My head whipped toward him. Arin uttered it as he had “You have magic” or “I choose her.” Absolute. With the conviction of one who never speaks in vain.

“Do you find these bold, sweeping inquiries satisfying? Catching the recipient off guard and startling the truth from them? Is that your strategy?”

He didn’t blink. “Generally, yes.”

“Might I ask how you’ve reached this conclusion?”

“The power I felt when I touched you in the Relic Room should have torn me to pieces,” he said calmly. I stilled. We had yet to openly discuss the details of what had occurred in the war room. “Instead, it barely stopped me from killing you.”

Niphran was right, I marveled.

“Are you typically so overcome when you sense magic?”

“Nothing was typical of my behavior.” Disturbingly pale blue eyes studied me. “Yours is not a simple magic.”

Another diversion. I imagined the Nizahl Heir’s tutors must have been driven mad at his expert evasions of any clear reply.

He went on. “Jasadi magic cannot be hidden from me. I should have detected it at the river, when you placed your hand in mine. At the very least, it should have reacted last night. Pain and peril are two of the surest ways to ignite magic. Yours reacts to mine in unusual ways. I can sense it, I can draw it close, but it will not leave the limits of your body.”

He frowned at a cobweb on top of the weapons chest before redirecting his attention to me. “That is how I’ve reached my conclusion.”

“Your touch boiled my magic. It nearly killed me,” I said flatly.

“It saved you. Twice.”

Aha. “And how can a nonmagical touch do such a thing, Your Highness?”

A glimmer of approval passed over his features. I had neatly walked him into my own trap.

“Under normal circumstances, it can’t. I sense magic because I am immune to it, and I can drain the magic from a Jasadi with the same touch that seems to ignite yours.”

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