Page 63 of Heir

Before Sirsha could respond, the gag came around from behind her. Then the hood.

She tested the stretch of her bonds—barely any room to twitch her hands. Her gag was so tight it might as well have been shoved downher throat. Bleeding D’rudo. He always was excellent at following orders. She listened carefully. There were at least three Jaduna here. Possibly four.

If Sirsha wanted to escape, her best chance was now, before they marched her into their compound on the other end of the city. Not for the first time, Sirsha wished she’d been born with one of the other Jaduna leanings. A Deshma with battle magic. A Khind who could slow the blood. A Bij who could call fire or lightning to her aid. A combination would be ideal.

But she was Inashi, a tracker, and could only read the earth, wind, and water. Bleeding useless. Especially since she was so accustomed to Jibaut’s Jaduna compound being empty that she hadn’t checked for her people, thinking herself safe.

Sirsha called to the earth, the most helpful of the elements.A little quake, please. The tiniest rumble?The earth didn’t answer. Almost as soon as Sirsha asked, the Jaduna closed ranks around her, and her magic was choked off. She couldn’t feel a single element. The trail she’d sensed, the one that had left her dizzy hours earlier—it disappeared too.

So, there was a Deshma with them. One strong enough to smother Sirsha’s power.

“Please come along quietly, Sirsh.”

At first, she didn’t recognize the young male voice. But then a cool hand wrapped around her arm, kinder than R’zwana would ever be.

“J’yan?” she mumbled, though through the gag, it sounded more likeJrrggh?

“Quiet now,” he said, softly enough that R’zwana wouldn’t hear. He loosened the gag so Sirsha could talk. “Or R’zwana will hear.”

A welter of confusion and joy and anger churned inside her. J’yan was a year older than her and trained in battle magic. When he was born, a Jaduna soul-seer, a Songma, predicted he would be the strongest battle Jaduna in eight generations.

That same soul-seer had attended R’zwana’s birth, two years before, and said nothing of note. But when Sirsha was born, the soul-seer had a different message.

Rejoice, Raani, the woman told Sirsha’s mother,for your second daughter will shake the world.

Within hours of Sirsha’s birth, she was promised to the heir of the Deshma: J’yan.

It wasn’t an oath to be taken lightly. A marriage in most places was an exchange of vows. But the Jaduna joined couples with magic, not as spouses but as Adah—soul halves.

Sirsha and J’yan played together, trained together, hunted together. He’d been sweet and kind and laughed when Sirsha wound him up. Neither understood they were sworn to each other, not until they were older and overheard their mothers speaking of it. They’d stifled their laughter by stuffing scarves into their mouths until they’d run far enough away from their village that they could howl without anyone hearing.

And then when she was twelve, Sirsha was banished. Her mother had nearly been unseated as Raani, and the Deshma Raani had threatened to pledge her Kin’s loyalty to one of the other four Jaduna Raanis—preferably one who could keep her children under control.

Sirsha had last seen J’yan at the borders of Jaduna lands, standing behind a jubilant R’zwana, face wet with tears.

She’d thought about him a great deal in the months after she’d left. He’d been her friend—her only friend, it sometimes felt like.

“You were a fool to come here,” he whispered to her now. “And trusting a Devanese pirate? It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”

“How was I supposed to know you lot would turn Kade?” Sirsha muttered, lest her bloodthirsty sister overhear. “He’s been trustworthy until now.”

Though upon consideration, that wasn’t exactly true. Sirsha and Kade had been friends—sometimes more. But Kade’s obsession with obscurelanguages and more obscure lore meant he trafficked in stolen things. The Jaduna could have bought him off with a few rare scrolls. Hells, Sirsha had done so herself a time or two.

“R’zwana’s changed,” J’yan said. “She’ll show no mercy, S’rsh—Sirsha.”

She winced at the sound of the old honorific that had marked her as Jaduna, a glottal stop that came from deep in the throat.S’rshawas the name that fit her.Sirshawas what had been foisted upon her. The reminder hurt.

J’yan quickened his gait, and Sirsha nearly tripped trying to keep up. She heard voices nearby but didn’t bother calling for help. No one in Jibaut was brave enough to cross a group of fully coined Jaduna, two of whom were Raan-Ruku.

She snorted at that. When she was a child, a Wolf’s magic oozed out of them. J’yan was strong in battle magic and deserved the title.

R’zwana did not.

They arrived at the Jaduna compound after a half-hour march. The air shifted, growing quiet and smelling of sap. Sirsha had seen the compound before and could imagine it now, the moss-covered boards blending seamlessly with the thick green forest of the mountains.

“Stairs,” J’yan muttered. The Jaduna moved silently, but Sirsha’s boots clanked loudly against the wide wooden planks. She smirked, knowing the racket would grate at R’zwana’s nerves.

Once inside, J’yan nudged her into a wooden seat. Her hood and gag were finally removed, and she squinted despite the dim light. No windows. One door. A suspicious-looking stain on the oak floor. Sirsha’s back was to the wall with three kohl-eyed Jaduna arrayed in a half circle in front of her.

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