Page 173 of The Jasad Crown

A thin shaft of light from the hall cut across Sefa’s silhouette. Despite the boredom in her tone, a warring mixture of regret and consternation simmered beneath the surface of Sefa’s sleep-lined features.

Arin briefly wondered which of her ever-shifting collection of faces Vaida had shown Sefa. After Sefa cut off her finger, the Vaida Arin knew would have had each of the girl’s limbs tied to a different tree while a pack of starved mutts ripped her apart. Leaving her in the Traitors’ Wells mere miles from Arin’s holding? If he didn’t know any better, Arin might have thought Vaidawantedthe seamstress saved.

Arin answered Essiya’s friend with the honesty she deserved. “I hope not.”

“Good,” Sefa murmured. She melted back into her covers, pausing halfway to peer at Arin. “I never thanked you for the High Counselor.”

“Then be relieved that I have no interest in your thanks.”

A private smile played on Sefa’s lips. “You and her really are perfect for each other.”

The strange half-Lukubi, half-Nizahlan girl disappeared beneath the covers, leaving Arin staring after her.

“All right,” Marek interjected, smoothing the wrinkles Arin hadleft in his collar. “Say I believe you about the Supreme. How exactly do you plan to overcome a charge of treason?”

Jeru dug his elbow into Marek, but Arin scarcely noticed.

“Murder is only treason if left unfinished,” Arin said. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to the door. “When I am done, they will call it succession.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

ESSIYA

The hours ticked past me as I sat in the center of the Aada. Different people took turns shouting, but they had given up directing their ire toward me. No amount of vitriol had coaxed a response. Throwing rocks at a wall loses its appeal quickly, so they had turned on one another.

In theory, I was listening to them. In theory, I looked blank and taciturn.

In reality, I strained to contain my magic as it howled inside me, slamming against my shoddily erected barriers. What no one in the Aada could see were the veins pulsing in bright silver and gold, an inferno of color burning out of me.

When I woke this morning and read the note in my hand, the veins had completed their conquest of my throat and crawled to my jaw. They throbbed over my body, straining to reach the rest of my face.

If I relaxed even an inch, my magic would slam through my control and slaughter everyone in the vicinity. It would swallow me in the blaze, leaving a creature from the nightmares of the Awaleen crawling out of the ash. A creature with no interest in fortresses or creation; a creature with the singular purpose of destruction.

The torn top half of the note fluttered at the center of the table, where it had passed between dozens of hands.

Take Sareekh il Ma’a to Jasad.

The second half of the note, tucked inside my tunic, had not been shared with the masses.

I will find you again, Suraira.

I stood abruptly, startling the quarreling groups into silence. Unclenching my teeth took longer than I anticipated, the muscles in my jaw resistant to the sudden movement. “We begin our leave for Jasad tomorrow. I will ask the Sareekh how many of us it can carry at a time and how long it anticipates the journey around Nizahl to take. We can send a small search party to ensure our landing location is free of soldiers.”

A wave of protest followed, but I cut it off with a raised hand. “I have listened to your arguments, and none of them include an option that allows us to safely reach Jasad in time for Nuzret Kamel. The Jasadis in other kingdoms have no choice but to risk the trade roads in order to reach our kingdom; we have the benefit of travel by sea. Ignoring it without good reason is a recipe for death.

“I understand your doubt in my decision-making. I understand why you might hesitate to accept the suggestion of our sworn enemy. But in four days, Nuzret Kamel will lift the mist from Sirauk Bridge. Records show it lasts a mere hour or two. We cannot allow spite to govern us. We cannot miss our window of opportunity to raise the fortress.”

“Why would we listen to him after he betrayed you?” Efra shot to his feet. “He came into this mountain, learned all of our plans, played the part of reformed villain—and then escaped!”

Just as the disgruntled rumbling threatened to devolve into another hour of shouting, a quavering voice spoke up for the first time.

“He left behind the scepter,” Maia said. Doe-like brown eyes that were more suited to a poet than a lahwa flicked to the corner of the room, where Supreme Rawain’s scepter still rested. “If he had really betrayed us, wouldn’t he have taken it?”

“He must not have had time,” Efra snapped.

“If any of you come up with a better idea for reaching Jasad, you can find me at the cliffside.” I left the room swiftly, closing the door behind me. As soon as I turned the corner, I broke into a run.

“Do you think the rest of us do not wrestle with the darkness our power brings?” she cries out. “Do you think we don’t understand?”

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