Page 137 of The Jasad Crown

I sat down and propped my chin on my fist, wildly entertained.

“We’re in the third trial,” Maia whispered. “They are handing her and Sylvia the elixir.”

I blinked at the name. But Maia was reciting Diya’s thoughts, and the other Champion knew me as Sylvia.

Maia quieted. “What’s going on?” Sorn demanded. “What happened?”

The gold and silver drained from Maia’s eyes seconds before they rolled to the back of her head. She collapsed, landing on the rug in a heap. Namsa and Lateef rushed to her.

Sorn swung to me. “Did it work? The incompetence of you lot is galling!”

“The effort of sieving through your Champion’s mind will leave her fatigued forweeks,” Namsa hissed. “Have some gratitude.”

“Gratitude? I’ll be grateful when one of you bumbling, magic-addled buffoonswakes my Champion!”

“Would you all shut up?” Diya snarled. “My head hurts.”

The sight of five heads snapping to look at the bed was almost comical. Sorn’s anger dissolved. Joy crept over his face like a rising sun. “Diya? Are you—are you yourself?”

She glared. “What kind of idiot question is that? Who else would I be?”

I cackled. “She’s fine.”

When she glanced in my direction, I casually blew her a kiss. “I figured the reigning Victor of the Alcalah should pay the sick a visit.”

“Damned Alcalah. Blast it to the tombs.” A scowl stole over her. “I would have won if you hadn’t cheated.”

“Jealousy can be so ugly.”

“Like your face.”

I patted her covered foot. “I look forward to when you’re in full health and have recovered your wit. It was never much to begin with, but this is just embarrassing.”

“My liege,” Diya said to Sorn, serious. “Can you pass me that sword?”

But Sorn didn’t appear to be listening to either of us. He was simply watching Diya.

Diya sat up, eyeing him. “What did he offer to have you fix me? I imagine it has to do with why you’re in a giant, garish, blood-spattered dress.”

I plucked at some of the bigger bloodstains. “Orban promised to reopen and protect the trade routes.”

“What?” Diya rubbed her forehead. “Orban hasn’t closed the trade routes in fifty years. What happened?”

My palm warmed, and a glass of water appeared in my hand. I handed it to Diya. She took in the gold and silver swirling in my eyes and sighed.

“A Jasadi. I should have figured. You were entirely too foolish to have survived until the third trial.” She drained the glass. “Good luck with the war. You’ll need it.”

“Diya.” The name fell from Sorn like the plea of a sinner seeking benediction, pained and half-whispered. “Diya, why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”

The Orban Champion squinted at Sorn. “Felt about what? My lord, have you taken ill?”

I groaned. Perhaps she and Sorn were well-suited after all.

“Sorn.” I waved a hand in front of his face. I never thought I would miss the mountains, but I only had twelve days left to enjoy warm baths and soft beds. I didn’t want to waste any more of them. “You won’t forget our agreement or bend to pressure from Nizahl.”

He turned his chin briefly, meeting my impatient gaze with an irate one of his own. “I already promised. You’ve gotten what you wanted—now go. The khawaga won’t trouble you.”

Namsa lifted Maia, carrying her weight without trouble. She frowned at the Orbanian pair, following Efra and Lateef to the door.

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