Page 141 of The Jasad Heir

I beat my fists against the ice. Ripped my crown from my hair and scraped it against the thick layer of frozen lake. Why wouldn’t the ice break?

Smoke stung my eyes. I scrubbed them, Niphran’s harrowing screams intensifying. It happened as it had in a hundred dreams. I glanced down to see smooth, bare skin where my cuffs had been.

I knew how it would go. The fire would burst. Eat the shadow people and then feast on me. I couldn’t watch it happen again. If my freed magic wasn’t the solution, what was?

Hanim’s old taunt.You could possess all the magic in the world, and you would still give Jasad your back.

“Essiya!”

I had already watched my mother die once today. I threw myself into the fire and collided with Niphran, wrapping my arms around her. The shadow creatures rushed forward. Instead of consuming us, the fire shot up, crawling over the night sky. Bringing dawn to the shadows. Not shadows—Dawoud, Niyar, Palia. Countless Jasadis, given faces and names at last.

Niphran’s eyes shone. “You saved me.”

My arms closed around empty air as my mother vanished, taking the lake and the Jasadis with her. It was just Soraya and me, standing in my old palace bedroom.

Soraya fell, clutching her stomach as my magic rippled around us. I sat on the ground beside her, and sadness swelled in my chest. The best memories of my childhood were in this room with her and Dawoud. “I’m sorry Hanim betrayed you, Soraya. She trained us to be pawns in her game.” I touched the crown of Soraya’s bent head.Grief. Rage. Fear.I had let them lead me, but Soraya had let herself become them. “If I had never gone to Mahair, I would have become as empty and lost as you. Treating love like a disease to be purged.”

I took her face in my hands. Her gaze was pained and panic-stricken. “Goodbye, Soraya,” I whispered.

My magic surged around the attendant, gales of gold and silver whirling around her faster and faster. She threw her head back as my magic flowed into her, lighting under her skin.

Soraya screamed, and I threw my arm over my face as magic painted the bedroom white.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Iprepared for the Victor’s Ball alone.

They had placed my belongings in a room in the Citadel’s main spire. My plum-colored gown spilled over the cushioned bench in a whisper of silk while I practiced different expressions in the gilded mirror. Proud, humbled, delighted. My cheeks hurt.

There wasn’t much to be done about my eyes. A dead and pitiless black, they couldn’t be coaxed to mimic any form of life. I lined them in finely powdered blue kohl and glanced away.

A knock sounded at the door. Time to perform one more time.

The mirror reflected Arin’s entrance. He closed the door behind him, and I slipped on my gloves from Rory. “How long do I have to stay?”

He leaned against the door. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Arinlean. The man came out of his mother’s womb stiff and unimpressed. It was a telling sign. “Two hours. Once they’re well and truly inebriated, no one will notice if you take your leave.”

I pinned my hair from my face. The tight curls draped over my back.

“The Victor’s carriages have been readied. Sefa and the boy will meet you there. I’ve assigned a retinue of my most qualified soldiers to accompany you. They will take you wherever you would like to go, and once you have reached your destination, you may select any ten of them to become your permanent guard. Your winnings will be delivered separately and discreetly to a location of your choosing.” Arin spoke without inflection. I wondered if he had practiced his expressions for tonight, too.

I swiveled on the bench. The full sight of him momentarily knocked all other thoughts askew.

A tunic dyed in the most vivid shade of violet framed his broad shoulders and the flat, hard panes of his torso. Stitched over his heart was Nizahl’s symbol. Trim black pants hung from his narrow waist, tucked into clean, light boots. An amethyst circlet rested in a cloud of silver hair. He had replaced his heavy coat with a form-fitting black tailcoat that tapered behind his knees. Five shiny purple buttons lined the left side of the coat, with tiny ravens on the opposing side.

“Don’t stand anywhere near me,” I managed. “I’ll never be able to slip out with everyone’s eyes on you.”

“I can assure you I will not be the subject of interest tonight,” he said wryly, but a small smile touched the corners of his lips. A shy Arin—now I had seen it all.

I sighed, bracing my elbows on my knees and covering my face. “Any changes?”

Arin’s pause answered for itself. “No.”

When I woke in the pit, anarchy ran rampant in the arena. Nizahl soldiers had trapped the visitors from the outside, and the soldiers hidden in the crowd captured anyone whose eyes reflected the slightest gold or silver. Sorn and Arin had rushed from the tunnels the moment the emerald barrier fell.

The sand had nearly submerged the top of an unconscious Diya’s head. It took the Orban Heir and six khawaga to pull her out of the sand’s grip. I had watched helplessly as Sorn dragged Diya’s limp form into his arms and shook her shoulders, bellowing for a medic. I was significantly taller than Diya and had sunk only halfway when Arin reached me. Once he was assured I was awake and coherent, the Nizahl Heir removed his gloves and opened a single exit for the arena. The guests lined up at the door, and he pressed fingers to the forehead of everyone walking out. Those who resisted were detained.

Fifty Mufsids were seized. Any feelings I might have indulged at their capture had been extinguished by watching the Mufsids slaughter the staff at Usr Jasad and bring down the fortress.

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