Page 16 of Heir

“Glad I caught you.” Arelia released him. “I saw the oddest blueprint on your aunt’s desk when I was giving her an update on the bridge restorations. Here, hold my trebuchet—” Reli shoved it at him and patted her coveralls, pulling out a silver hammer, a leather hair thong, and a foreign coin before shaking her head.

“Had a sketch. Gone now. It could be a weapon, but I hope it’s a form of transport because skies know livestock and barges are too slow. In the south, the Kegari travel by air. Air!”

“What good are aircraft if they’re only used to raid and pillage?” Quil said. His aunt had expressed worry about Kegar, a nation so troublesome that even though they were thousands of miles to the south, their warmongering was affecting Empire allies.

“If we could get a look at their transports—”

“Good luck,” Quil said. “They only talk to the Ankanese. Any time the Mariners have sent a ship down there, it disappears. They’re worse than the bleeding Karkauns.”

The smile dropped off Reli’s face. “No one is worse than the Karkauns.” Like most Martials, her hatred of the Empire’s southern neighbors ran bone-deep—a savage occupation would do that to a populace. “Your aunt would agree—which reminds me. She’s looking for you. What did you do to irritate her?”

“I’m sure she’ll tell me,” Quil muttered.

“You should apologize. Rumor is that she had a report from the Ankanese ambassador, warning her about Kegari unrest. Scant on details, but it put her in a foul mood. And a Jaduna Raan-Ruku arrived this morning, so she’s antsy, too.”

Arelia shuddered at the mention of the Jaduna, a group of magic-users so powerful, so shrouded in mystery that even Aunt Helene treated them with caution.

Quil frowned. The Raanis—the six women who ruled the Jaduna people—did not usually leave their lands. Instead, they sent their Raan-Ruku—Wolves of the Mother—as emissaries.Strong in magic, Aunt Hel told him years ago.Never to be crossed. You will know them by the shape of their coins, triangles flanking a circle.

But they didn’t visit the Empire often. Usually only in times of emergency.

Quil and Arelia both turned at the tinkle of metal behind them. The prince’s blood went cold at the sight of a blond Jaduna, wearing a heavily embroidered robe with bell sleeves and a golden headdress. It was decorated with triangle coins and a single circle, in the center.

She fixed her kohl-lined eyes on Quil as if she wished to bore into his brain. Sweat trickled down his back. He’d once read an old folktale about a substance that suppressed magic. He wished the stories were true, wished he could wrap himself in it so the Jaduna sorceress wouldn’t know what lived inside him.

Now it was too late. The Jaduna must be aware of his magic. She’d have told Aunt Hel. And he’d be forced to train with them—

But she merely inclined her head and walked on. Quil bolted for his room, glancing back to make sure the Jaduna hadn’t followed. Arelia kept pace, as keen to escape the Jaduna as he was. Magic perplexed her, as she couldn’t take it apart.

“Oh.” Arelia pulled a small book out of her coveralls.Recollectionsby Rajin of Serra. “Stole this from you a few days ago. I knew it would take you another three years to finish.”

Quil winced as they turned into the passageway that led to his quarters. “I only got it from the library a week ago.” He nodded a greeting to the Masks guarding the hall.

“If you spent less time bashing shields with that scim-happy friend of yours—”

“His name is Sufiyan, as you well know, and he’s more healer than fighter—”

“Then maybe”—Arelia pushed open the door to Quil’s room and offered him the book—“you’d have finished it faster. Too much ancient lore and navel-gazing for me, but I did find the drawings of his war machines enlightening.”

BOOM.A door slammed distantly and footsteps thunked down the hall.

“Right,” Arelia said. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Coward!” he called as she slipped away. A minute later, Aunt Helene strode through his door, kicking it shut behind her.

“Aunt,” he said. “I saw a Jaduna Raan-Ruku—”

“Routine visit. Sit.” She pointed at a posh settee. “Now.”

She spoke with the toneless frigidity of a Mask—something she reverted to when she was giving orders or tamping down her anger. Quil’s own frustration rose. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture.

Still, he sat, watching Aunt Hel pace. To the distress of the court clothiers, Empress Helene mostly wore plain black fatigues, with a scim strapped across her back. The only indication of her rank was a silver circlet pinned to her crown braid—one that Quil had seen flung to the side of a training field, tossed in with the laundry, and once, most strangely, sitting atop the head of a particularly ugly gargoyle on the roof of the palace in Antium.

They’d laughed when he’d found it up there, but the Empress was thefurthest thing from laughter now. She crossed her arms and pinned him with her pale blue gaze.

“You were overheard in the market today,” she said. “Speaking with Sufiyan about abdication.”

“Were you spying—”

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