Page 110 of The Jasad Crown

Arin began to walk at a purposeful clip toward the woods. The sun had dropped to the middle of the sky, its piercing glare softening in its descent, burnishing the sky in streaks of blue and pink. White foam crawled higher up the beach as the tide rose, water spilling closer to the woods with each wave. As the tide receded, it devoured. The corpses disappeared into its embrace, sinking beneath the clear blue waves.

“You can’t carry me across the sand,” I protested. “Put me down before you drop us both.”

Arin spared me a scornful glance, and I rolled my eyes. “Have it your way,” I grumbled, and set to pressing my lips to the column of his throat.

His grip on my legs tightened, and Arin walked faster.

As soon as we stepped into the woods, darkness enveloped us. The temperature plunged, and I was suddenly glad for Arin’s plethora of clothing. The wind carried the acrid scent of recently burnt wood, and a fainter, sweeter smell.

My knees slackened as I slid to the ground. Without exchanging a single word, Arin and I moved in tandem, rotating around each other as we assessed the scene. The ground rumbled beneath us. A shriek pierced the quiet, tearing a gash for the ensuing silence to bleed through.

The beach had vanished. The woods closed around us in every direction, trees stretching as far as I could see.

“This isn’t Essam.” A statement of the obvious to Arin, but I couldn’t let these woods think they had fooled me. Essam Woods had been my home for a quarter of my life; it had sheltered me, hunted me, shaped me. Within it, I had been prey and predator.

In these woods, I was only prey.

“Magic does not govern the Mirayah,” Arin murmured. He pressed the hilt of a dagger into the hand hanging at my side, and Iclosed my fingers around it as Arin and I shifted around each other once more. Every story I had heard about the Mirayah unfolded in the shadows between the trees, every monster and murderer rumored to have fled to the legendary refuge. “The Mirayah governs magic. Don’t touch the trees, and do not leave my side.”

I supposed I deserved the dig—the last time Arin told me not to touch the trees, I had slapped my hand directly over poisoned sap in Ayume Forest.

“The Mirayah moves from place to place within Essam Woods,” Arin continued, his back pressed to mine. “If we can find the edge, we can cross before it moves again.”

How were we supposed to find the edge? We had no notion of our location, no landmarks to guide our path.

“I could climb to the top of one of these trees. I might be able to see where the Mirayah ends.”

“No.”

“Arin—”

“The minute you leave my side, it will whisk you away,” Arin snapped. “I can—I canfeelit. It wants you to itself, and my presence is an obstruction.”

I shuddered, wrapping both hands around the dagger. What did the Mirayah want with me?

A guttural growl rolled out from the shadows. I froze as another joined it, then another.

Ten sets of slitted blue eyes appeared in the gloom.

Before I could consider the wisdom of unleashing my scream, Arin grabbed my hand and yanked, dragging me behind him as we ran. “Rochelyas!”

Rochelyas? Kapastra’s poisonous pet lizards? I thought Rovial killed them all when he waged war against Omal. Damn it to the tombs, how long had the Mirayah been here, leeching from the magic of the woods?

We sprinted through the trees, weaving between tauntingly low branches and the shifting ground beneath us. Arin’s steely grip on my hand dragged me forward each time I faltered.

My chest heaved with the effort of staying upright as we fled through the woods, the injuries I’d ignored in Mahair screaming at my abuse. First a dulhath, then mutated soldiers, then rochelyas? What was next, Ruby Hounds?

I slammed into Arin as he abruptly halted. He caught me with an arm around my middle before I could pitch to the ground, drawing me against him.

“Do you see what I see?” he asked.

We stood at the top of a gently sloping hill overlooking a verdant meadow. I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know the trees had disappeared. The temperature had shifted again, the light fog rolling over the green plains warm and sticky against my skin. If my hair hadn’t already gone through every level of torture known to a scalp, ten minutes in this weather would double it in size. The sun had recently set on this meadow, leaving the sky a morose blue, and night had begun its steady encroachment.

“I know this place,” I said suddenly and not entirely of my own volition. Distractedly, I tugged Arin forward, focus narrowing on the single tree in the endless stretch of green around us.

Arin allowed me to lead him across the hill. The grass crunched beneath my feet, entirely too fresh. Even in the best of seasons, none of the kingdoms had so many acres of healthy and undisturbed land. It would have been farmed or built upon.

A small lake appeared on the other side of the hills, stars twinkling over its placid surface. As beautiful as the lake in Ayume, which had thickened around me as I waded into its toxic depths, crushing me slowly.

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