Page 16 of The Jasad Crown

I tasted salt on my lips and knew it was not seawater.

“I will be inside if you need me.” Maia’s voice softened. Without waiting for acknowledgment, she retreated on her ghostly feet.

The door shut behind her, and I released a stuttering breath. The waves splashed noisily below, the reflection of the crescent moon the only point of illumination left in the dark sea.

I lowered myself to a seat, wincing at the damp stone digging into my skin. For all the weight piling in my chest, my head felt clear for the first time in years. Clear and eerily quiet. Before the Victor’s Ball, even when Hanim’s voice had been silent, I’d always known it was there. Lurking in wait, biding its time. But I couldn’t sense it anymore—that throb of her disapproval and loathing creasing my every thought.

I was finally alone. Completely alone, just like I had always wanted.

With the sea as my only witness, I eased my grip around the memories rattling in the back of my mind.

Six days ago, Arin discovered my true identity. The horror on his face… I would never forget how he looked when he saw my cuffs and heard Rawain call me Essiya. In one stroke, hundreds of my lies had imploded between us.

He had covered his face before my magic ruptured, the fig necklace swinging around his neck, the only spot of bright color on the Commander’s stiff and formal ensemble. Gifting it to him, watching him smile while he slipped it around his neck, had healed one of the many fractures in the tattered thing masquerading as my heart. To know he would see it as just another lie…

One of my slippers fell from my foot, disappearing into the undulating waves below me.

He was always my enemy. When he turned his horse around in Lukub to heal me after Soraya put her knife in my chest. When he cradled my tearstained face and told me to run. When he kis—

Enough.

I forced myself to think of the many valid reasons the Urabi despised Arin. He had no friends, no confidants. He handled people like lines on his maps. Shifting them subtly, strategically, without giving them the chance to feel the ground moving beneath their feet. His father’s charm was natural; Arin’s was carefully cultivated. Logic led his life, leaving emotion to fester at the sidelines. Even to his own people, he was an enigma. A dangerous one. Supreme Rawain could tear apart kingdoms, but Arin could destroy worlds.

As long as magic was his enemy, so was I.

Water misted across the shore as a wave barreled into the mountain.

How unbearably pathetic that the person whose advice I trusted most, whose counsel I wanted so badly in that moment, was the same one preparing to kill me.

A tear slid from the corner of my unblinking eye. I let it roll tomy chin before catching it with my thumb. Raising my hand to blot out the moon, I studied the droplet.

The first and final tear I planned to shed for Arin of Nizahl.

Once I had collected myself and scarfed the cold and seawater-sprayed food on my plate, I went back inside to find Namsa. Most of the dining hall had emptied out, and I tried to smile at the remaining individuals who openly stared as I walked past. What a reversal of fate, that someone staring at me should be met with a smile when four months ago they would have been met with my swinging blade.

The dining hall failed to turn up Dawoud’s crotchety niece. I ducked into the hallway again, my irritation brewing rapidly toward anger. After her grand speech and the dramatics in the dining hall, I thought there would be more planned for the evening. Thanks to their sim siya arrows, I had slept enough to last me the rest of the year.

I ran my hand over the dips and ridges of the stone wall as I walked, trying to memorize my path. Halfway down the hall, the texture turned spongy, and my fingers disappeared into the wall with a sucking sound.

I recoiled, yanking my hand out of the wall. I cradled my fingers to my chest as I gaped.

What were these halls made of? As a matter of fact, what wasanyof this made of? It must have taken the Urabi years to carve the insides of these mountains into a sanctuary without being discovered.

No wonder Arin hadn’t found them in any of the kingdoms or Essam. The Urabi had chosen to hide in the one place Arin’s plethora of maps could not follow.

I cautiously palpated various points of the wall, massaging thecrevasses for any hidden keys. I considered trying to use my magic and instantly discarded the thought. Without my cuffs, I had no idea how far my magic could go or how much control I could wield over it.

A spiderweb caught on my thumb when I crouched, a palm braced against the pockmarked wall for support. I wrinkled my nose and tried to draw my hand back.

My shoulder slammed into the wall. I gasped, pulling away only to discover the web pulling with me. The string had wrapped around my thumb and held it fast.

Oh,absolutelynot.

I braced my foot on the wall and heaved. The web stretched, the threads thinning into translucency, but refused to snap. I put my other foot on the wall, yanking with the weight of my entire body.

A hand appeared from my left and stroked the web. In a flash, it released my thumb—and sent me sprawling onto my rear.

I contemplated staying on the ground. Maybe if I hoped hard enough, the floor might also attempt to swallow me whole.

---