Page 106 of The Jasad Crown

I had despaired of the vastness of Essam when Hanim made it my prison, but now, the horizon of endless, rolling green filled me with awe. Hirun snaked through the woods, seeming to chase us across the acres. Somewhere north, the river beneath me was pouring through the mountain’s mouth, cascading down a cliffside and reuniting with Suhna Sea, where it would start its journey anew. Regenerating again and again, its memories washed away in the tide.

A low growl rumbled in Niseeba’s throat. On her back, Arin stirred, groggily twisting against his restraints. I had tied his coat around Niseeba’s neck to prevent his face from brushing against her, knotting the sleeves under her chin.

Unfocused blue eyes blinked from Arin’s bloodied face. They caught mine and cleared, holding for a long second before moving to the kitmer beneath me. They widened at the sight of the woods passing below us.

“I was hoping you would wake up,” I said, raising my voice over the wind. “How many times have you stood over your maps and looked at the world from above, just like this?”

Arin maneuvered an arm out of the restraints and grabbed Niseeba’s horn. His jaw worked, the pale column of his throat ripplingwith—what? Anger, confusion? Awe? Reading Arin was difficult on any given day, and it certainly didn’t help that half his face was covered in throbbing bruises.

“Leave your legs in the restraints,” I advised. “You’re still badly wounded, and you might lose consciousness again.”

Working his other arm free, Arin paused to shoot me a glare. I rolled my eyes, remembering the fight he’d put up in these very same woods when I had tried to bandage his wounds from the Ruby Hound.

I wouldn’t faint.

“As the mighty immortal man wishes,” I muttered.

Before Arin could finish untangling his left leg, his entire body went taut. His gaze flew to the trees, then back to me, and I did not have to try to guess what emotion they contained this time.

Pure, unadulterated alarm.

Ingaz dipped, a terrified shriek tearing out of the kitmer. Her wings bent at the middle, as though trying to lift against thick sand. Niseeba shook her head from side to side, weaving drunkenly through the air.

“What is it?” I shouted, leaning forward as Ingaz careened toward the trees. “What’s happening?”

And finally, as the kitmers streaked toward the woods, Arin spoke.

“Hold on!” Steely and aggressive, brooking no argument—the voice of the Nizahl Commander. “The Mirayah is drawing in the kitmers’ magic.”

TheMirayah?!

We plummeted.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

SYLVIA

Icoughed myself awake, rolling to my side as water surged out of my throat. Pain pounded between my temples. My entire body vibrated, shaking like a freshly gonged bell.

As soon as I could breathe, I crawled away from the waves lapping at my legs. I raised an arm and squinted into the sun.

Wait. The sun? I’d been flying through the clouds with Arin and the kitmers, markedly missing any trace of the sun. Besides, this was too clear, too blazing, for the season.

“Arin!” I called, staggering out of the water. Why was I at a seashore? The closest shore of Suhna Sea was in Jasad, hundreds of miles away. Questions beat impatient fists against the inside of my skull. “Niseeba, Ingaz!”

I whirled toward the sea, heart pounding as I searched the endless stretch of blue. Waves splashed at my legs, unnaturally warm. His leg was still restrained when we fell. What if he hadn’t been able to free himself in time?

“Arin!” I screamed his name, shoving clumps of my drenched hair out of my face. I scrambled for my magic, but it was nowhere to be found. Not absent because it was ignoring me or waiting for the right opportunity, butgone. I couldn’t feel it at all.

“Your companion left.”

I went still. Without turning around, I slipped my fingers intomy waistband and withdrew my dagger.

“Now, now. If you kill me, who will help you escape?” asked a singing voice. “Don’t you want to know how to leave the Mirayah?”

I twisted around, blade high and knee crooked to pounce.

My teeth came together, hard. The creature had assumed the general shape of a man, but it was the furthest thing from human. Features crafted by an uninspired hand sat above its thick neck—a set of colorless eyes, an upturned nose, a thin mouth. Either laziness or weakness had caused it to forgo the more intricate details—eyebrows, the hollows under the eyes, the ridge between forehead and nose.

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