Page 162 of The Jasad Crown

The Sareekh rumbled another laugh in my head.

Arin shot me a thoroughly unamused look. “It is called a Khawfa.”

“Khawfa?” I widened my eyes, the very manifestation of innocence. “Is it new?”

The fact that Arin knew exactly what I was doing didn’t stop him from falling victim to the urge to correct me. “Of course not. Its existence can be traced to 350 A.E., when a group of Lukubi sailors dragged one to shore. The Khawfa exuded a gas that killed everyone in the vicinity. It turned the sand pink as it died.”

He shook his head, curiosity flaring brightly before caution snuffed it. “I never thought I might see one in the flesh.”

“Magic,” I said lightly. I pointed to the next fish. “What about the shiny black one, with the rotating fins?”

So it went: Arin relenting to the pressure of his curiosity, relaxing to the magic wrapped around him, while my nails bit into my skin to combat a different pressure in my veins, beating harder and harder.

Marek chattered away, the only voice in the resoundingly silent mess hall.

It had seemed like a good idea, bringing Arin, Jeru, Sefa, and Marek along for supper. I wanted the others to get accustomed to the Nizahlans’ presence, and it would be best to do so before webegan the journey to Jasad. Arin had already received one shock to his system today—what was one more?

But thestares. There would be less attention on our table if I had stripped naked and tried to juggle bananas with my nose.

Marek’s most reliable offensive strategy was turning into a golden-haired beam of charm, and he’d chosen to target Lateef first. The elderly man was clearly taken aback by the waves of unrelenting conversation unleashed upon him, but they’d eventually settled on a spirited debate over the best methods for shearing sheep.

In the center, Arin sat rigid and straight-backed between Maia and Namsa. The women had taken three bites the entire meal. Maia’s husband sat on her other side, darting glances at Arin over his wife’s head.

I didn’t blame him. I doubted they’d been spared the one pervasive thought rotating in everyone’s heads, exchanged in hushed glances.

The Silver Serpent had found his way into the nest.

“Namsa, have we received any word from Yara about the trade routes?”

Namsa startled at her name, dropping her spoon with a clatter. A pea flew from her plate and landed on Arin’s vest.

“Oh, bloody Sirauk, I’m so—I can wipe—” Namsa waved her hands helplessly around the pea, clearly too panicked to remember anything other than not to touch the Nizahl Heir.

Arin picked it up between two fingers and deposited it on the table. “It is quite all right.” The measured cadence of his voice, the most I’d heard of it in hours, immediately soothed my nerves.

It seemed to have the opposite effect on Namsa. She gave him a pained smile before hurriedly returning to me.

“About the routes,” Namsa said delicately. Lateef set down his fork and pinched his beard.

I lowered my spoon, momentarily wishing I had my own beard topinch. Maybe I could find a couple of long chin hairs. “What?” If Sorn had reneged on his promise, I would hollow the bastard’s head and pin it on his wall of trophies. We were relying on those roads. Thousands of Jasadis had already begun their journeys.

“The rebellions in the Omalian lower villages and deaths of Queen Hanan and Felix appear to have inspired similar unrest in Orban,” she said. “Sorn hasn’t stripped all the protections from the trade routes, but King Murib has forced him to divert a significant number of khawaga toward combating the unrest.”

I put my face in my hands. “Is Murib going to fight the rebels?”

“It appears he is hoping to negotiate,” Namsa said. “I would guess he wants to avoid meeting the fate of the Omalian crown.”

“I can divert my kitmers toward the trade routes,” I said. “They won’t do much against armies, but they might be enough to supplement what we’re missing from Orban.”

“If Nizahl moves toward the trade routes…” Maia glanced at an impassive Arin. “Should we start sending out our parties? The mountain is still full, and if we move at once, our presence will be much more conspicuous on the roads.”

“Nizahl has their hands full with Lukub,” I muttered. “Nobody knows where Vaida is, but I expect Rawain is turning every stone trying to find her.”

“I fear Lukub may not be enough of a deterrent. The Supreme knows the Jasadis are moving. He’ll send forces south to guard the border,” Lateef said.

“No,” Arin said.

I lifted my head. With two fingers, Arin pushed aside his plate as though it were a guest that had overstayed its welcome. He folded his hands in the empty space.

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