Page 28 of The Jasad Heir

Arin’s attention slid to my basket. “Quite the bundle of sesame-seed candies you’ve acquired.”

I eyed him. A predilection for tooth-rotting sweets was hardly unique to Jasadis.

“I seem to have come upon my own sample of the candy.” He reached into his pocket and I tensed. Surely he would not try to injure me at a crowded waleema?

The Nizahl Heir pulled out a sesame-seed candy. Its distorted pink wrapping plucked at my memory. Unless requested, these candies weren’t typically sold with individual paper wrapping. The wrapping protected the hardened sugar from melting, but the onerous task of folding the paper dissuaded most merchants.

“I believe it belongs to you.”

At my bewilderment, Arin flipped the candy onto his gloved palm. “I found it floating in a puddle two miles past the raven-marked trees. Strange, is it not? How might such a candy have fallen so far into Essam?”

Oh no. Oh no, no,no. Sour fear surged into my throat. I had dropped a sesame-seed candy the night I crossed the raven-marked trees. I’d hesitated to fish it from the pungent puddle. Seconds later, the Nizahl soldier had confronted me. I never retrieved it.

His expression was a study in civility. He might have been inviting me to tea instead of accusing me of trespassing. Where the Supreme manipulated with charm and grand speeches, his son could be chiseled from pure ice.

Everything inside me screamed at me to act. Shove my blade into his chest, hurl coins into his eyes and run,something. We’d taken the soldier’s body not too many miles from where the candy fell. All I could do was hope Hirun had done its job and carried the corpse to a different part of the river. Without a body, this piece of candy alone couldn’t link me to the soldier’s disappearance.

Adopting a guileless, unaffected tone, I said, “Am I the only person in Mahair who enjoys sweets? Perhaps one of your soldiers had a craving.”

The scar cutting across his jaw caught the lantern light when he tilted his head. A wound made doubly disturbing by the fact that it was meant to kill. And by appearance alone, it should have succeeded.

“Try again,” he said.

“What?”

“Think of a better lie. You’re capable of it.”

I gritted my teeth. If he aimed to prick my temper into revealing the truth, he needed a stronger arrow. “I apologize if my honesty is without adornment.”

He tucked the candy back into his pocket. I wanted to snatch it away and dash it under my boot. Thanks to my cuffs, exposing me as a Jasadi would be a lofty task. But I had concealed the soldier’s death hastily, without a quarter of the care I’d spent on concealing my identity. Either offense ended with my death.

An invisible noose tightened around my neck. If he intended to slowly chip at my sanity, his progress could not be faulted. I had always imagined my discovery as a brief, brutal affair. Like Adel’s. I had prepared myself for the lion, not for the circling vulture.

His implacable demeanor infuriated me. Enough for my tongue to loosen and say, “When will I have proven my innocence to you?”

“Your innocence?” Though his smile didn’t falter, the veneer of detachment dropped. He looked at me like sheer willpower alone prevented him from tearing me limb from limb.

This man is going to kill you, Hanim whispered.If not today, then someday soon.

Arin raised a gloved hand. I didn’t flinch as he drew a leaf from my braid. When he spoke, it was almost soothing. Rueful. “You cannot prove what doesn’t exist.”

A faraway shout. “The horses!”

The Commander turned his head. He paused, features going blank as he listened for something beyond my ears. I remained fixed to the spot, struggling to convince my pounding heart we were not seconds from death.

“Sire?” Jeru shuffled closer.

The musical troupes abandoned their instruments, plunging the festival into a confused silence. The blare of trumpets shook the air.

Movement rippled around me as one by one, the people of Mahair, drunks and children alike, dropped to their knees. Arin swept his hood back.

“Visitors,” Arin said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The villagers scattered as a carriage bearing the Omalian crest rode through the center of the road, led by horses saddled in white chains. Giant wheels, lacquered in sparkling blue and white gems, fought their own weight as they spun over the uneven dirt. The carriage stopped in front of the platform, and two guardsmen flanked the door as the steps unfurled.

I angled my body behind the wall, just out of sight. Only Arin and his men remained standing. I spotted a puzzled and stained Fairel, clutching a yam sticky with molasses in her fist. “Fairel!” I hissed. I wanted her far away from whoever was about to step out of that carriage. Oblivious, Fairel slipped behind one of the chairs, nibbling at her yam.

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