Page 99 of The Jasad Crown

More Omalian soldiers had arrived, entering in through the unprotected western borders of the village. They swarmed from the back of the main road, the flag of Omal hoisted at the fore. We were about to be penned in by Omalian soldiers on both sides.

“You need to use your magic if you want to save your precious village!” Efra snapped. “Otherwise, we need to evacuate the survivors and get away from here. We cannot risk your capture.”

Do not ask me to use my magic, I wanted to plead.You have no idea what it might cost.

I couldn’t ask them to leave. They wouldn’t. They would stay and fight until their bodies stacked over one another.

“Listen!” Dirt crusted Efra’s hair, muddying his clothes. “We can’t defeat them all.”

I knew Efra didn’t care about Mahair. He saw this as an unfortunate Omalian conflict with no bearing on Jasad or magic.

But this was my home. Mahair and everyone in it weremine. A piece of me would always remain here, and I wouldn’t let Felix take it.

“Not on our own.” I raised my head, meeting Arin’s unwavering gaze. I would need to run back to the keep and fetch the gloves I’d packed. “Tell me, how many people can your magic influence at the same time?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ARIN

Lives were ending a handful of paces away from him. On the horizon, flames crackled over thatched rooftops. Gray smoke billowed into the placid sky. The acrid scent of burning straw smothered them.

These were events demanding Arin’s full and undivided attention. He should be devising methods to circumvent the laws preventing him from marching into the mayhem and extracting the Jasad Queen. He should be attentive to any opening they would give him to cross the border into Omal.

But Arin couldn’t seem to focus beyond the way the man had put his hand on her arm. How she had covered it with her own.

A girl no older than twenty screamed as a soldier on horseback grabbed a handful of her hair. He thrust his sword, and the sound cut off abruptly. Her body dropped, joining the rising number on the ground.

“Sire—” One of the third-years, Riddah, stepped forward, only to meet the resistance of Arin’s arm.

“Hold,” Arin ground out. He loathed standing and watching as much as they did. It was a massacre. Felix had sanctioned an execution of entire villages, extinguishing livelihoods and families in minutes. They had committed no crime. The only danger they posed was to Felix’s image, which had already gone throughthe mud and back again. A massacre on this scale was purposeless cruelty, solely intended for massaging his ego and sending a message.

But Nizahl could not intervene. This linecould notbe crossed.

The longer Arin watched Sylvia, the harder it became to remember why.

Her sword sliced through a soldier’s neck, severing it in one neat swing. She leaned back in her saddle, narrowly avoiding another soldier’s sword. It pierced the empty air where her torso had been, and she grabbed the hilt, trapping the soldier’s arm as she brought her sword onto it. He screamed as his hand fell into her lap, the hilt spasming from his orphaned fingers. She silenced his cries with his own weapon, shoving his sword through his chest and kicking him out of his saddle. Her braid swung from one shoulder to the other as she moved with ruthless efficiency to her next target.

Arin could watch her fight until weeds grew around his boots, and he had the sense he would never tire.

“Uh…”

The dumb sound from Riddah forced Arin’s attention back to the village’s entrance, where a row of Omalian soldiers had gone still as stone. Snarls rippled over their faces. Fingers clenched and unclenched around sword handles.

As one, they veered to where Arin and the Nizahl soldiers stood.

A current of magic vibrated in the air, pricking Arin’s senses to high alert.

The Omalian soldiers kicked their horses into motion, swords aloft and pointed in their direction. Attacking Nizahl soldiers on neutral ground while they stood by, doing nothing?

A small smile touched the corners of Arin’s lips.

Why… it tasted like political pandemonium. So delicious Arin wanted seconds.

“Hold!” Arin shouted. Laughter bubbled in his chest. Clever,clever Suraira. “If they attack, you have my clearance to enter the village and drive out the Omalian soldiers. Do not throw your spears unless it is in close contact—if any of you kill a villager out of carelessness, I will leave your fate to their family.”

The Omalian soldiers burst through the entrance and vaulted over the bodies half-buried in the mudslide. In seconds, they would be upon them. A ripple of anticipation flowed between his men.

Arin dropped his arm. “Now!”

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