Page 163 of The Jasad Crown

“Rawain will not risk his hold on the Citadel by scattering his armies.” Firm and absolute, Arin’s tone left no room for argument. “Not without the scepter.”

“Do you think he’s been using the scepter to bolster his armies?”

“I know we have never lost a battle during his reign. I know Essam has never proved inhospitable to us, even during the bitterest of winters. We have fed, clothed, and sheltered our soldiers without raising the levies on our nobles.” Arin’s expression was inscrutable. “I know I survived an injury at sixteen which should have proved fatal.”

“There could be other explanations,” I said.

“There could be.”

The thought of Rawain draining Jasadi magic to bolster his own armies—an army that existed to protect against people exactly like Rawain—was too nauseating to contemplate.

“Why do you think he will be reluctant to lessen the protections around the Citadel without the scepter?” Lateef asked when my silence lengthened.

“My father believes in a certain balance of life when it comes to leaders and their subjects,” Arin said. “He will devote a significant number of his remaining forces to protecting the Citadel. If he sends forces south, they will most likely be composed of new recruits.”

“Recruits?” Marek’s outburst nearly startled Sefa into dropping her soup. She righted her bowl at the last minute. “Most of those recruits have never even been in a fight!”

“I am well aware,” Arin said, clipped. “The goal is distraction. The sheer volume of them will slow you down until he gains enough of an advantage over Lukub to send his real army toward Jasad.”

“Distraction.” Marek’s derision was palpable. “Disposable, you mean.”

“As I said.” Frost crystallized around Arin’s features. “He believes in a certain balance.”

Apparently, Marek’s time hiding in a Nizahl compound had given him a tender outlook on the plight of the poor Nizahl recruits. I had too many Jasadis to keep alive to care about the unfortunate backgrounds of the men Rawain would be sending to battle. It didnot matter if the hand holding the sword wanted it there or not—it would kill me just the same.

Sefa set down her spoon with a loud clatter, finally looking up from the depths of her soup. “What Vaida has planned will not run its course in eight days. She spent years searching for the Mirayah. Whatever relic magic Baira left her, it will either obliterate us all instantly or far outlast this particular war.”

I met Marek’s gaze in a moment of shared bewilderment. Sefa wouldn’t speak much of her time at the Ivory Palace. I hadn’t known how to broach the topic beyond surface-level questions. What I did know for certain was Sefa would never have inflicted an act of violence against anyone—even the Sultana—unless she had had no other choice. Unless she had known without a doubt that leaving the ring with Vaida would invite deadly consequences.

“There is no war. Not yet,” Lateef said. “Only the Commander can declare war.”

The bolt of Arin’s jaw tightened. “Not necessarily. There are… exigent circumstances to my authority.”

He may as well have knocked me clear across the hall. Hanim’s ghost rose more viciously than it had in months, and suddenly I was in Essam, gutting the fish for our dinner while Hanim flicked over my notes.

“The Rule of Rulers,” she mused. “I suppose you could have chosen a worse title.”

I bit back my smile. “Thank you.”

“What did you learn?”

I finished cleaning Hanim’s fish and skewered it over the fire while I considered my practiced response. “The Rule of Rulers is that for every supposed absolute, there is an exception. I found twenty-nine instances of the phrase ‘imminent risk’ and seventy-six of ‘exigent circumstances’ in the laws of all five kingdoms.”

“Tell me about each of them,” Hanim said, taking the skewer I offered her. She peeled the flaking skin from her fish. “Then you can eat.”

“The Nitraus Vote,” I gasped. “You committed treason when youtook the scepter. The council will hold a Nitraus Vote to instigate war without your authorization.”

The grim set of Arin’s features lifted briefly, replaced by a spark of appreciation. He was always disproportionately impressed by knowledge of obscure information. “Yes. In all likelihood, they have already held it.”

“Nitraus Vote?” Lateef repeated, frowning. “I’m not familiar.”

I explained quickly, struggling to prevent my disquiet from veering into panic. Thousands of Jasadis were headed toward our kingdom onmycommand. I had promised them a fortress, protection. If Nizahl had mobilized for war, Orban might renege on its promise to protect the trade routes.

If we reached Sirauk Bridge only to find armies waiting for us, Jasad would drown in more of our blood.

I blew out a breath. Across the table, weariness and trepidation marked every face, shoulders stooped like birds tucking their wings against the storm.

Arin met my troubled gaze with his own. The first sign of a battle lost was thebeliefit was lost.

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