Page 94 of Heir

“We should tell Elias,” she said, because doing so would make her appear honest. “He’d want to know. And—perhaps deal with the body.”

But Quil shook his head.

“Scavengers will take care of the body, and she tried to kill me, so she doesn’t deserve any better,” he said. “I’ve fought off thirteen assassination attempts in just the past few years. Sometimes, it’s another Martial Gens. Sometimes a Karkaun. It doesn’t matter who’s trying to kill me. After every attempt, my aunt and I argue about whether I should haveguards trailing me. I hate being caged, Ilar. I hate when choices aren’t my own.”

“I’d hate that too.” She thought of the Tohr. “I won’t say anything.”

She told herself it was because he’d now owe her a favor. But some part of her also felt gratified at the relief on his face.

When they returned to camp around dawn, Elias, sharpening his scim and chatting with Tas before his own watch duty, approached them.

“Anything?”

Quil shook his head, and Elias shifted his gaze to Aiz. She felt pinned, and forced herself to smile.

“All quiet!” she said easily in Ankanese. Tas glanced up at her, head tilted as if she’d said something fascinating.

Elias’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Aiz felt a twinge of frustration. Somehow, he’d sniffed out her lie.

“I have a question,” she said, hoping to distract him. “About—about your mask. Quil was telling me about them. Do you—still have it?”

Aiz smiled guilelessly, hoping Elias would think she was a breathless kid hearing stories from the boy she liked. Sweet. Foreign. Harmless.

“No,” the big Martial said, sliding his scim into its scabbard. “Sufiyan’s on breakfast duty,” he informed Quil. “Get something to eat.”

“Hells, Elias, don’t scare the poor girl,” Aiz heard Tas mutter as she and Quil walked away. “She only met us a few weeks ago.”

Quil reached out and squeezed Aiz’s hand as they walked away. “Thank you. I owe you.”

Aiz shrugged it off, magnanimous. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Elias was contemplating them, a hand on the dagger at his waist. Aiz looked swiftly away, but the message was clear.

She was being watched.

26

Quil

The woman appeared out of nowhere. She wore shades of green that blended into the jungle so seamlessly that at first, Quil thought he was hallucinating a pale floating head.

Then she crouched beside Sirsha, the pelt of emerald feathers woven into her blond hair giving her the look of some delicate bird. Quil drew his scim, but Sirsha croaked, “Loli Temba,” before her lids fluttered closed over her ghostly white irises.

Quil knelt and felt for her pulse, expelling a breath when he felt it, strong and rhythmic.

“She’s alive.” He’d no sooner said it than Arelia turned on Sufiyan.

“What the bleeding hells did you put in that porridge this morning?”

“Nothing!” Sufiyan crouched beside Sirsha, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. “We all ate it. Let me check her for injuries.”

“Boy.” Loli Temba spoke so quietly that it wasn’t until she fixed her pale blue eyes on Quil that he realized she was talking to him. “When did it pick up your trail?”

To Quil’s surprise, she spoke fluent Serran.

With a Karkaun accent.

Arelia noticed at the same moment that Quil did, and glowered. The temperature in the little clearing seemed to drop a few degrees.

Most Karkauns had the sense to stay away from Martials. Quil still remembered the day he’d learned about the horror they’d inflicted on Antium twenty years ago. His aunt had insisted on telling him herself.

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