Page 90 of The Jasad Heir

“No. Mine is closer to the stairs.”

Dania’s sacred skirt, but he was sopale. As though someone stretched a thin sheet of parchment over him and named it skin. On another, I’d call it sickly, but Arin’s torso was long and lean. His body carried the kind of power gained from years of relentless combat. The elegance of his beauty shone in the sharp cut of his hips, the hollows of his collarbones.

Arin arched a brow, altogether too entertained for my taste. “Is anything the matter, Sylvia? You’ve grown pale.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he wasn’t ignorant of his effect on others. His appeal was another weapon in his arsenal, honed to deadly perfection. “My natural complexion, I assure you.” The echo of an exchange uttered a lifetime ago.

I carried the tray over to the table, giving him his privacy. Arin swiped a tunic from the wardrobe and tugged it over his head. I exhaled when he was clothed again, pressing my knuckles to overwarm cheeks. May Vaida be damned to the tombs.

It was strange. I had spent my formative years without more than a passing interest in the men of Mahair. Even if I could bear to be touched by them, I lacked the skills needed for true intimacy. A hand too near my throat, any sudden pressure—I was more likely to hurl a lover into the wall than wrap them close.

The Alcalah was not the time to entertain such absurdities. I snuck a glance as Arin deftly laced his vest and I immediately regretted it. If Arin’s mind was a finely sharpened dagger, then his body was its armor. I couldn’t imagine how anyone touched him and remained whole. Being with him would be honeyed annihilation, too much for a flesh-and-bone body to bear.

Enough. I rolled my shoulders. Too little sleep and too much near-death was my problem.

The Heir arranged himself on a wooden chair. “Is there a purpose to this late-night sojourn, or did you just want my dinner?”

“I would like to strike a bargain.”

Arin settled back, gloved hands weaving over his stomach.

I told him everything. How Vaida lured me to her wing of the palace, the ring she pressed into the wall to unseal Baira’s hideaway. Describing the sentient darkness proved harder, and I shied away from recounting the fear that slashed through me when the candle died. I had tripped over the stairs in my rush and fled past the stoic guards.

“There are names of people she’s killed. Names of Nizahlan spies living in Lukub. Faces… cut-off faces that may belong to those same spies.” Arin’s expression didn’t flicker until I talked about Vaida’s threat. The offer she proposed if I lost the Alcalah.

“And you are telling me this with full knowledge I cannot stop you from acting on Vaida’s offer, nor can I prevent her from sheltering you in Lukub. Not unless I expose you as a Jasadi, which would ruin me, stall the Alcalah, and give the Mufsids and Urabi an opportunity to target a new victim.” Arin’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Impressive.”

I fluttered my hand in an imitation bow. “I have acquired quite the array of skills under your tutelage. After considering the benefits of Vaida’s offer, I have decided they do not outweigh its hazards. Namely, living in a second kingdom torn apart by war with Nizahl.”

At this, Arin broke out into a grin. My heart, which had done an excellent job of beating for my nearly twenty-one years of life, stuttered at the sight. The wonders of tonight would never cease.

“You were so concerned the royals would lay invisible traps for you. Here you are, seeing right through them.”

Not as quickly as him, Hanim said.He figured out Vaida’s plan while you were still speaking.

I raked lines into the chair’s padded arm. I couldn’t appreciate the compliment; I had hoped to be wrong. Had Vaida gone mad? “If she violates the Zinish peace accords, Lukub will be ravaged. Omal and Orban will join forces with Nizahl to uphold the treaty.”

Arin lifted a shoulder. “Not if Nizahl violates the treaty first. After the Lukub Champion becomes the Victor, I imagine she will bribe a Nizahl soldier or struggling Nizahlan council person to murder him. The act of killing a kingdom’s Victor is its own declaration of war, and Vaida’s ready armies will move on Nizahl.”

The insidious cruelty of Vaida’s plan sent revulsion shivering through me. She would set in motion a devastating war… for what?

Arin remained unmoved. He had already witnessed Nizahl obliterate one kingdom out of existence. “She will never win a war with Nizahl,” I said. “Not if she spends three lifetimes preparing.”

“Something has convinced her she can.”

“But why? Why risk it?”

“Perhaps she blames the Citadel for her mother’s death. Perhaps she doesn’t care if her soldiers die in droves. It matters little. The wisdom of Vaida’s actions is not at issue.” Arin tilted his head. “The wisdom of yours, on the other hand… What have you come to bargain for, Suraira?”

I had ruminated over this inevitable question the whole journey from Vaida’s wing. There was only one answer. I had given a promise, and I intended to see it through.

“Marek and Sefa’s release,” I said promptly. “If you grant them leave to return to Omal after the second trial, I will stay our course.”

Unlike Arin, my disposition did not lend well to long periods of stillness. I fidgeted with the tasseled cushion and tried to consider what he could be thinking.

When I was seven years old, one of my tutors fell ill. Soraya had attempted to lift my spirits by constructing a maze out of Niyar’s thickest books. We sprinkled rice in the winding tunnels and folded bits of discarded fabric to create dead ends. After we finished, Soraya gathered crickets to race through our maze. Of the nearly two dozen competing, only one succeeded. It leapt to the top of the books and peered around, studying our haphazard creation. Instead of descending into the mass of sparring crickets below, it hopped on the books’ spines, cutting straight through the maze.

“He cheated!” I had cried, cupping it in my skirt.

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