Page 29 of The Jasad Crown

The words were out before Sefa could rethink them, propelled by a sharp burst of indignation. “And if I am not a lamb? If I have my own intentions?”

Vaida smiled. “Even more reason to keep you close, isn’t it?”

Ice trickled down Sefa’s spine, and she took a step back. Sefawishedshe had insidious intentions. It seemed the popular thing to do. Maybe she could develop one or two after she left this place. “I respect Your Majesty too much to accept a position I know myself to lack the qualifications for,” Sefa said, steeling herself. “Your efforts would be better directed at a more suitable candidate.”

Sultana Vaida paused, a complicated array of expressions chronicling her surprise. The room fell into a contemplative silence while Sefa braced herself for Vaida’s reaction.

And therewouldbe a reaction. People like Marek and the Sultana, who used their looks like currency, never took it well when they realized beauty didn’t carry a universal value. Marek had apologized over and over for how he reacted after Sefa told him she would never be able to reciprocate his feelings. He’d be crushed to learn that the memory of waking up to find Marek gone still haunted Sefa. Three days. Three days she spent in terror and regret, wondering if he’d return. Trying to understand when their definitions oflovehad taken such drastically divergent meanings.

Marek had come back with a basket of apples and a flimsy slew of apologies. A miscalculation of time, he’d said. But Sefa, fearful she’d wake up the next morning to find him missing once more, hadn’t been fooled by his newfound forgiveness. “I love you so much,” she had sobbed. “If you let me, I will live and die at your side. But I don’t—I can’t love you the way you asked me to. I don’t think I can love anyone that way.”

He’d held her while she wept, his mouth shaping promises against the top of her head, vowing never to leave her again. A promise he kept.

But sometimes, in dark moments like these, Sefa couldn’t helpbut wonder if Marek’s acceptance came too readily. If he only forgave the rejection because her heart and body would never belong toanyone, so he wouldn’t have to witness someone else succeed where he had failed.

Sultana Vaida merely regarded Sefa thoughtfully. “You’re searching for someone.”

Sefa’s blood ran cold. She knotted her hands together to keep them from trembling. It was just speculation. A mere guess shot out like an arrow at a board, nothing more. If Vaida knew the truth, Sefa would be in chains.

“Friend, family member? A lover?”

Sefa stayed silent.

“Here is my last offer. Work for me at the Ivory Palace for one month. You will serve as my eyes and ears in the court, and I expect nightly reports of the whispers winding through my palace. In exchange, I’ll help you find whoever you are searching for.”

Sefa’s breath caught. Vaida would help her find Marek and Sylvia? The resources at the Sultana’s disposal were staggering, and her influence was second only to Nizahl’s. With Vaida’s help, Sefa could scour through the ends of the earth for Marek and Sylvia.

Not Sylvia.

Essiya of Jasad. Also known as the most wanted woman in the kingdoms.

Sefa didn’t care about any of the scheming and maneuverings of the royals. She’d grown up with a ladder-climbing mother and a well-spoken scoundrel for a stepfather. The games of these courts were blood-soaked and savage; Sefa wanted nothing to do with them.

Except that if Arin was chasing Essiya, then Vaida would be, too.

Sultana Vaida raised a hand to adjust the white lace trim under the neckline of her dress. The craftsmanship temporarily distracted Sefa, who had always prided herself on an ability to replicate anydesign she encountered to near perfection. Every garment she’d spotted in the Sultana’s closet left Sefa questioning her own years of training.

It took Sefa several seconds to stop thinking about how she’d re-create the lace’s pattern and notice the ring on Vaida’s third finger.

It was the ring she and Sylvia had tried to steal in the Omal palace. The ring that had scorched Sefa’s fingers when she tried to pick it up; the ring Arin of Nizahl had rolled into a mold after rendering the Sultana unconscious.

She thinks she can win a war against Nizahl, Sylvia had said.

Sefa stood before the Sultana of Lukub with the memory of Corpse Walker’s spoon knocking against her resistant mouth, and she wondered if the Sultana had ever felt powerless. She wondered if Sefa’s mother had been right, and Sefa would always be led by her heart instead of her head.

Her mother meant it as an insult. Most people did. But it was Sefa’s heart that told her to pack a bag and flee Nizahl with the golden-haired rich boy who’d inexplicably stayed by her side since they were children. The same heart that saw the hostile, lonely girl skulking around Raya’s keep and decided to make her a friend. The best decisions Sefa had ever made—the bravest decisions—had always come from her heart.

It protected what it loved better than Sefa’s mind ever could.

“If you give me funds to find my companions instead of searching for them yourself, I will agree to remain as your attendant and bring you news of your palace.”

Sefa didn’t let her gaze linger on Vaida’s ring. The first rule of any royal court: never let them see you coming.

The phantom Sylvia would shake Sefa until her teeth rattled out of her mouth if she saw Sefa bargaining with a woman so dangerous—so prone to fatal whimsy and sadistic retaliation—that she unsettled even the Commander of Nizahl.

Sefa was tired of being the person everyone constantly needed to protect. The weakness in a room of warriors. That ring was leverage. A bargaining chip.

Power.

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