Page 77 of Heir

Quil shrugged. Sirsha wondered if she’d imagined the slight hesitation before he answered. “I don’t think so.”

“Your people have such an archaic view of the arcane arts. Even the Tribes. Jaduna trace our bloodlines through magic.”

“Martials haven’t made a study of it,” Quil said. “It’s not common in the Empire or Marinn or even the Tribal Lands. My aunt has no idea how hers works. Most Martials don’t know she even has it.”

Sirsha frowned, scandalized at his ignorance. “All magic has order,” she said. “It comes from the same source.”

“Mauth. Also known as Death,” Quil said. “Sufiyan’s grandmother is—”

“The Bani al-Mauth. Chosen of Death,” Sirsha said. “All Jaduna know of her. She uses magic too, and like all of us, her magic has rules.We must exert our emotion on an element. We can do this through speech, song, poetry, movements of the body. Some use objects, like a staff.”

“What do you use? And what’s your element?”

Sirsha hadn’t spoken of magic to anyone since she was exiled. Even Kade didn’t know exactly what she did.

“I talk to wind, earth, and water,” she said, wondering what it was about Quil that made her want to tell him what he asked. “My emotion is usually desire or curiosity. I request help. For the most part, the elements offer it—as long as I tell them what I’m looking for. Sometimes they show me a trail only I can see. Or a warning. Sometimes the image of a place.”

“You must be mentally flexible. Open,” Quil said. “Maybe that’s why you’re good at tracking and your sister isn’t. The older and more set in her ways she gets, the worse she probably is at it.”

Sirsha blinked in surprise. She hadn’t considered such a thing.

“The killer also has magic.” Sirsha moved on, uncomfortable with how much she’d told him about herself. “She hid her trail. Not easy, but possible for those with particularly powerful mental control. If I knew more about her—”

She stopped herself. She’d shared a great deal already. Too much, perhaps. Trust wasn’t wise in her business. If she’d gone it alone at Raider’s Roost instead of trusting an adulterous jewel trader, she’d still have her money. If she’d kept her relationship with Kade professional, R’zwana would never have manipulated him into betraying her.

“Stop that,” Quil said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop convincing yourself you can’t tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. “I’m not like Kade. Or your sister. I won’t betray you or judge you. You don’t want to talk about your own magic? Fine, I won’t ask again.”

Quil had finished with her face and now took her wrists, his longlashes dark smudges against his cheeks as he examined her rope burn in the dim firelight. He worked slowly, methodically, his strong hands easing the paste into her raw skin, massaging the pain away.

“Oh. That feels—” Her whole body relaxed and the sigh that came out of her was halfway to indecent. Quil’s pale eyes found hers. Heat bloomed across her skin, slow as a southern sunrise. She wanted to look away, but found she couldn’t. His hands stilled and she started to pull back, but he held on to her.

“I’m not done,” he said with a note of command that sent a shiver up her spine. Then, after a pause, “You said you needed to know more about the killer?”

“Yes,” Sirsha said. “If I knew her emotion and her element, she might be easier to track. Elias said she burns out her victims’ hearts with a poker. But that’s all I know. Does she torture them first? Is that how they all died?”

“No,” Quil said. “It’s not.”

Earlier that day, Sufiyan had told Sirsha that he and Quil had grown up together. Which meant Quil would know Elias’s other son, too. Ruh.

“Could you—could you share anything more about the deaths?” Sirsha said. “How the victims were killed. Whether their bodies were…ah…arranged in a particular way.”

Quil released her wrists, finished now, and was silent for so long that Sirsha felt flustered. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“The first person the murderer killed was also the first girl I fell in love with.” Quil laced his fingers tightly, as if cleaving to something precious. “Her name was Ilar. I’m the one who found what was left of her.”

22

Aiz

The next day, with a brisk autumn wind at their backs, Tribe Saif left the well, and Aiz accompanied them. As the caravan rolled out, Ruhyan dragged Aiz to his mother’s wagon. He tied Tregan’s lead to the frame, shouting out introductions to those of the Tribe whom Aiz hadn’t met.

“That’s my sister Zuriya.” He pointed at a girl a little older than him riding at the front of a pitch-black wagon. She waved to Aiz shyly. “She likes talking about death. There’s Karinna—”

Laia’s second daughter led her mare over, looking Aiz up and down coolly. She was small—only a few inches taller than her youngest brother, but striking, with pale blue eyes and a raven-black crown braid.

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