Page 54 of The Jasad Heir

My cuffs tightened almost beyond the point of tolerability. Arin stepped closer. If he touched me in that moment, my magic would overwhelm him, just as it had in the Relic Room. The incensed throb of it skimmed along my skin.

“I do wonder just what you’re capable of,” he murmured.

“Be patient, my liege,” I said. “You might yet find out.”

This time, when the Commander moved toward me, it was a strike of lightning. He spun me around, pinning my arms behind my back.

“Is that a promise?” His voice was the whisper of a practiced sword leaving its sheath, soft and deadly. “Tell me, Sylvia of Mahair, how does a ‘nobody in Jasad’ learn to read Nizahl’s old tongue?”

What?

He jerked my arms, pointing me toward the scroll pinned to the table.First Decrees of Arin of Nizahl, Commander in Power and Heir.Horror washed over me in thick waves.

The entire decree was written in a language Nizahl had not spoken in two hundred years.

I had been so distracted by the maps, I had forgotten to pretend I couldn’t understand it.

“The Citadel records all new decrees in Nizahl’s original tongue. I suppose they taught you a dead language in Ganub il Kul,” he murmured in my ear. His sardonic chuckle sent chills running along my spine.

Arin released my arms. “If you have any ambitions in the art of deceit, I suggest you plan more carefully. There are few things more disappointing than a careless crook.”

The dismissal was unmistakable. I had used a lifetime’s allotment of carelessness already, and I would not spend any more by ignoring him. I fled from the room, pausing at the door. I glanced once more at the Commander. I emblazoned him as he was in that moment, standing over the map of the world. Its towering conqueror.

If Jasadi bones could speak, they’d warn Arin of Nizahl that nothing stays untouchable forever.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It took hurling a heavy bowl at Vaun’s oversize head during supper for Arin to allow the guards to take me to the surface.

“Clear your head,” he ordered from the top of his horse. He was going on yet another trip. Vaun and Ren mounted their horses. “We do not have the luxury of soothing your every tantrum.”

I managed not to throw rocks at his disappearing back, comforting myself with the warmth of the sun against my skin. I hadn’t been to the surface in ten days. Wes and Jeru accompanied me on the walk, kicking a pebble back and forth. It reminded me of Soraya and Dawoud during our afternoon strolls through the palace garden. I grimaced, batting aside the memory like a troublesome fly. In Mahair, I’d rarely dwelled on my life in Usr Jasad. I certainly hadn’t allowed the memories to encroach on my consciousness. That moving wall and the Jasadi weapons must be unsettling me more than I thought.

My continued silence disturbed the guards. “It gets easier once you improve,” Jeru said. “The beginning is always the worst.”

Even Wes was inclined to offer reassurance. “The midnight hunting drills our first year—” Wes started, prompting a groan from Jeru. “I cannot count the number of times I lost myself in these woods, half-naked and confused.”

“Holding a spear,” Jeru added. “I woke up late once and grabbed a mop instead. Our unit leader found me waving it at a sparrow.”

“Wait. Did you hear that?” Jeru stopped.

Wes’s forehead puckered in concentration. “It’s the river.”

Jeru swiveled. “No, I thought I heard… I will catch up.” He jogged into the trees before we could answer.

Wes and I resumed walking in a much less comfortable silence. We tended not to spend time together without Jeru’s stabilizing presence.

“Is Jeru’s family very wealthy?” I asked, apropos of nothing. The sudden interrogation technique seemed to work for the Heir.

Wes eyed me. “No.”

“He is a kind man,” I observed. “A liability in the Citadel.”

For a long moment, I thought Wes wouldn’t respond. I counted the prints our boots made in the mud. He answered at number forty-six. “His family comes from an impoverished village in Nizahl’s southern provinces. He qualified for exemption from conscription and—”

Much as I hated to interrupt and risk Wes clamping shut again, I couldn’t contain my shock. “There’s exemption from conscription in Nizahl?”

“His Highness the Heir made it law five years ago. Unless there is an active war, Nizahlans may submit for exemption should their circumstances fit the criteria His Highness set forth. The southern provinces are in famine. Jeru was needed to keep his family from starvation.”

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