Page 18 of The Jasad Heir

A year or two before the siege, Nizahl had tried to foster a comradery between the kingdoms by creating a camp in the middle of Essam called Ganub il Kul. The camp would heal divisions between the kingdoms by unifying hundreds of their children in a shared education. No one in the royal families sent their children, of course. My grandparents had scoffed at the idea and discarded Supreme Rawain’s flowery invitation.

My favorite attendant, Soraya, had not been so dismissive. “Be wary of evil men’s kindnesses, Essiya. They always grow from poisonous roots.”

The second week of the war, every child still in Ganub il Kul was slaughtered. The murders were brutal, inhuman. And Supreme Rawain blamed it on Jasad. Any kingdom hesitant to point its sword at Jasad changed its tune quickly after Ganub il Kul.

“Your accent is perfect. Your tutors must have been proud.”

I studied the Heir. I could not puzzle out whether he believed me or was merely playing along. His features remained smooth and perfectly polite. I could have been describing the best scrubbing technique to remove a stain from cotton, for all he had reacted.

“Truthfully, I caused them great distress. As you can see, I rarely put my skills to good use.”

“Ah,” the Heir said, with a slight quirk of his lips. “Your first piece of honesty.”

I struggled to control my breathing. He didn’t believe me. Four Nizahl soldiers broke through the bracket of trees. Two were astride mounts, and the others pulled theirs along. They glanced at me, promptly disregarding my presence.

“Sire,” panted the first to arrive, bowing. “We’ve been searching for Your Highness.”

“You’ve found me,” he said. “Do you bring news?”

“No, my liege. It was as the blacksmith said. The boy has been released.”

Sire. Your Highness. My liege.How many more? Jasad had one or two honorifics for its royalty at most.

The Commander’s expression didn’t change. “Excellent. Hand me my reins, Jeru. We will accompany the lady to Mahair.”

I had succeeded in retreating several steps. The Commander’s announcement halted me in my tracks. “I can assure you that’s not necessary.”

The soldiers were irritated with my response. “Accept His Highness’s kindness, girl,” the brawny one snapped.

The curly-haired one—Jeru—handed the Heir the reins to a black horse. The Heir studied me with his unsettling eyes. I wanted to stab them out of his head.

Bowing stiffly, I pasted on a gracious smile. There was only one right answer. I wouldn’t be like Adel, reacting first and thinking second.

“Of course. Thank you, my liege. I humbly accept your offer.”

“Wonderful. Do you ride?”

I dug my empty fingers in my cloak. What was his angle?

“I’ve had little occasion, but I can make do. Sire.”

He took a second set of reins from Jeru. I assumed he would mount, but he lifted his right hand and began to pluck the fingers of his glove loose. The soldiers stilled.

The Commander extended his bare hand in my direction. “Allow me.” There was no mistaking his intention.

Marek’s voice.He can sense it by touch alone.

It wasn’t possible. Nobody but Jasadis possessed magic anymore. But why else would he remove his glove?

I counted my breath in time with my steps and gritted my teeth. The choice was a simple one. I pull my magic from the surface and pray the cuffs do as they were designed, or I reveal myself as a Jasadi and live long enough to scream.

I thought about Supreme Rawain’s wink at the Blood Summit, moments before the screams began. Gedo Niyar shoving me from the table. Molten gold sliding over Teta Palia’s eyes as her magic wrapped around the table. The roar when the table exploded, killing Teta and Gedo and engulfing anyone nearby in flames.

It was only later that I understood why the Malik and Malika chose such a gruesome fate for themselves. Accounting for the bodies of the dead when they lay in charred, unrecognizable pieces is a tricky task indeed. The record was taken, and ten-year-old Essiya’s name was listed among the deceased.

His father had spilled enough of my family’s blood. I would not grant the son the same privilege. Drift by drift, my magic ebbed back, the heat fading from my cuffs. My chest burned, as if I’d swallowed the sun.

I took the final step forward and folded my hand over the Commander’s.

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