Page 105 of The Jasad Crown

“Great!”

I took an extra minute for the other kitmer. Its wings were the brightest gold I had seen, the long feathers at the ends of its limbs dappled in silver.

“Ingaz,” I decided.

Niseeba flapped her wings, sending a shelf of vials shattering on the floor. The quiet from outside unsettled me, and I hurried to lift Arin before someone found the shop, or worse—the Nizahl soldiers turned their attention to the Jasadis in their midst.

Any heightened sense of ego I might have gained at my performance in the battle promptly evaporated when I tried to lift Arin. “Awaleen below,” I croaked. My muscles burned as I withdrew and crawled behind his head. I tucked my arms under his shoulders and heaved.

My knee slipped in a viscous ointment, and I slid to the left, crashing into a bench with Arin slumped against me. Frustration shrieked inside me, aching to be given voice.

Something soft brushed my chin. I jerked back, which seemed to upset Niseeba. She growled, then tried again to slide her wing between me and Arin. Dumbstruck, I watched the kitmer as she wiggled the length of her wing under the Nizahl Heir and tilted her shoulders down.

Rovial’s tainted tomb, she was lifting Arin’s weight so I could roll him onto her back.

Black eyes met mine and narrowed into slits.Move, you sorry sack of panic, they seemed to say.

I leapt into motion, heaving Arin with all my strength. Niseeba knelt, the ends of her wing curling in to prevent Arin from slipping. Arin slid between the kitmer’s shoulders, his head coming to rest below Niseeba’s curling horns.

Shouting broke out in the village. It would be a matter of minutes before they checked Rory’s shop. I stripped the blanket from the cushions and wrapped it around Arin and Niseeba, securing him to the kitmer’s back. I also checked that every inch of his skin was covered. What a disaster it would be if he accidentally drained Niseeba’s magic and plummeted out of the sky.

The Urabi would certainly take my departure as abandonment. Finding one of them to explain my plan would be too risky. I rifled through Rory’s drawers and withdrew ink and parchment.

I am seeing our first plan through. Find me where we were meant to go.

—Essiya

Double-checking Arin was secure on Niseeba’s back, I climbed on top of Ingaz, who took my weight without trouble. I tightened my legs around the kitmer, fingers digging into the leathery gold feathers at her spine. Dread crystallized in the pit of my stomach, cutting into my insides with each breath. I’d never been airborne before.

Riding a kitmer didn’t need to be any more frightening than riding a horse. At least it would be a memorable death, if nothing else.

Ingaz and Niseeba bunched their shoulders, the flap of their wings sending every movable object in the apothecary hurtling into the walls. I spared a thought for the poor souls Rory would recruit to clean up this mess.

“Please let this work,” I mumbled, wrapping my hands around Ingaz’s horns.

Together, the kitmers rose into the air. I swallowed, pretending the tang on my tongue wasn’t vomit-flavored, and tightened my knees.

Ingaz dove through the gap I’d blown through the wall and into the melee. I clutched her feathers and glanced over my shoulder, relaxing when I saw Niseeba and Arin right behind us.

Time for the next part of the performance.

We streaked across the village, flying above blackened patches of dirt and smoking pyres. The ash hit my nose and coated my eyes in a watery haze.

As I had feared, the villagers were crowded around Namsa, Lateef, Maia, Efra, and Medhat, facing off against the Nizahl soldiers. Shouts pelted between the two groups.

Ingaz’s wings cast a long shadow over the Jasadis as we sailed toward the Nizahl soldiers. Some of the villagers started screaming; others joined with cheers. I spotted Lateef staring at Niseeba behind me, Arin coiled to her back, and I hoped he had seen us come out of the shop. I hoped Rory was his typical overzealous self and went directly to the apothecary to assess the damage, where he would find the note immediately.

The Nizahl soldiers had seen their unconscious, badly injured Commander on Niseeba’s back. I watched horror collectively sweep over them and grinned. “Come and rescue your precious Heir,” I bellowed, the invitation rolling over the wreckage with ease. “Before there’s nothing left of him to find.”

A volley of invectives chased me through the air. I smirked at the soldiers on the ground and tightened my grip on Ingaz. We rushed toward their center, and they scattered in time to avoid Ingaz’s claws. Gusts of dirt and ash whipped from Ingaz’s beating wings, sending the soldiers flying.

“Pathetic,” I seethed. “An embarrassment to your Commander.”

I leaned forward, flattening my torso against Ingaz’s spine aswe shot upward. Niseeba followed close behind. We sailed out of Mahair, the distance between us and the devastated village growing. I checked on Arin again, but he was still secure on Niseeba’s back.

Once we cleared the top of Essam, I let myself breathe. The nearest Nizahl holding I knew of was the one Arin had transported me to after the waleema, the same cabin where he’d offered me my freedom to compete as his Champion. If I dropped him off there, it would take the soldiers a day to find him—enough time for me and the Urabi to reach the Omal palace.

Ignoring the cynical part of me that refused to trust such an easy victory, I let the tension leak out of my muscles and relaxed on my kitmer’s back.

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