Page 59 of Heir

“You seem upset,” Sufiyan observed, and Quil glanced at him in surprise—he’d buried the feeling deep enough that he’d almost forgotten it was there.

“The Kegari,” Quil said. “Seeing them…” His fingers itched for his scim, and he took a deep breath to quell his temper, as he always did with strong emotions. Then he heard Sirsha in his head:

You’re so afraid if you feel something, you’ll actually have todosomething. And that if youdosomething, it will be the wrong thing.

Perhaps her words shouldn’t have hit so hard, but they reminded him of the night Ilar died. She’d fought with Quil because he hadn’t spoken to Aunt Helene about her. The Empress wouldn’t approve of the crown prince falling for a no-name Ankanese girl. They had no future.

You say you want to be with me, Quil, but if you did, you’d tell your aunt about me. You’d take me with you to the capital. You’d let me meet the Empress.

He’d responded to her accusation with silence, worried that the wrong words would drive her away forever. Didn’t matter. Later that night, she was dead anyway. Torn into pieces by the same murderer who burned out Ruh’s heart.

“You going to say anything, or just stand around looking murderous?” Sufiyan eyed him askance, and Quil realized that he was stock-still, white-knuckling the hilt of his scim.

“I’ve already run from Navium.” Quil was almost choked by a suddenwave of self-loathing, and here, in a sopping pirate’s port with his best friend, it poured out of him. “I abandoned my family and my duty and the Empire—anddo not”—he held up his hand at Sufiyan’s protests—“say I didn’t, because I’d hate to hear you lie. I did it because my aunt ordered it, and I’m good at following rules. But that’s not going to help us now.”

He looked out at Jibaut, at the lamps gleaming dully through the downpour as night drew closer.

“Musa will send another wight soon,” Quil said. “This time, we send information back.”

“About what?” Sufiyan squinted at the beaten faces of Jibaut’s residents. “How even the pirates are afraid of the sky-pigs?”

“The Kegari reserve forces are here. The more intelligence the Empire has about them, the better. But Aunt Hel knows almost nothing.” He met Sufiyan’s eyes. “Let’s change that.”

Sufiyan led them through Jibaut’s slick cobbled streets; with his features, he wasn’t as conspicuous as Quil. The rain fell heavily enough that it was difficult to catch conversations in full. But the attack on Navium and the destruction of the Empire’s navy was on everyone’s lips.

After hearing it a dozen times, Sufiyan’s fists were clenched as tight as Quil’s. “How long do you think Serra will withstand the onslaught?”

“A few months,” Quil said. “Spring, Musa’s note said. But Elias knows the way out of there—in case.”

“He knows the way out of every place,” Sufiyan said with a note of pride. “I miss him and Ama. Nan was always telling me to appreciate what we had.” Sufiyan spoke of the Bani al-Mauth, for he was one of four people who dared to call her anything but her title. “Wish I’d bleeding listened.”

“Old people know things we don’t because long ago, they didn’t listen to their elders either,” Quil said as they ducked into a darkened lean-to filled with moldering hay. “It’s tradition.”

Sufiyan snickered—not quite a laugh, but close enough. Better than nothing, anyway. Suf hadn’t laughed in ages.

“Wait here,” Suf said. Light flared from a tavern across the street as the door opened, and a pair of patrons tumbled out. “Someone in there will know where the Kegari are camped.”

Quil waited in the rain, hating Jibaut more every time another pirate passed. He used towantto visit this place. Especially after Laia and Elias had come to the city with their youngest son, Ruhyan, in tow.

When Ruh returned from the trip, he’d been brimming with stories of emerald boats with ruby sails, markets bursting with smugglers, jugglers, and sorcerers. He’d brought Quil a gift—the bracelet Quil still wore.

Ruh loved Quil as a big brother, demanding lessons in archery and rides on his shoulders. He didn’t care that Quil was the crown prince. Sufiyan groused when Ruh tagged after them, but Quil laughed at Ruh’s stories, answered his questions. In return, Ruh never minded when Quil was quiet.

It was Quil who’d found Ruh and Ilar. Or what was left of them, anyway, in the recesses of a place he hoped to never see again. He’d never told anyone that he’d fought with Ilar before she died. He knew they’d say it wasn’t his fault, and he wanted the guilt. He deserved it. If he’d done what Ilar had asked, she wouldn’t have ridden off, brokenhearted. She wouldn’t have been torn to shreds by a killer. And Ruh—

Dash that thought from your head, boy.The Bani al-Mauth had given him an order, and he’d tried his best to follow it, but it felt wrong to forget Ruh. Now, in the shadows of Jibaut, the prince reached for his wrist, for the bracelet he’d worn since then in honor of his young friend.

Only to find that it was gone.

He checked his cloak and pack before remembering this morning. Sirsha, stumbling. Touching his arm. Skies above. He was a fool. His aunt had taught him the finer points of thievery to prevent this exact thing from happening. He’d caught Sirsha once and thought himself clever, but this morning, she’d looked at him with her big brown eyes, batted those sooty lashes, and he’d been so busy mooning over the ring of smoky gray around her irises that he’d dropped his guard.

Wherever she was now, she must be laughing at how naive he was.

Someone staggered out of the darkness, pulling Quil’s thoughts from the treacherous Jaduna. He’d drawn his sword halfway when he realized it was Sufiyan, bottle in hand. He was putting on a rather impressive act. Like many Tribespeople, Sufiyan didn’t drink.

He reached Quil quickly. “Found our mark,” he said. “Speaks Ankanese and has rank. He should be emerging in four…three…two…”

The door to the tavern opened, and a pasty-faced Kegari soldier tripped out and vomited into the street before staggering away.

---