Page 55 of The Jasad Heir

“The Supreme allowed this law?” Skepticism colored the question. Supreme Rawain loved nothing more than soaking the earth in Jasadi blood and throwing adolescents into the army’s gaping maw. A law providing relief to commoners—the easiest population to recruit—deviated from his agenda.

“His Majesty hadn’t a choice,” Wes replied, and I would have wagered all of Nadia’s chairs that he sounded smug. “Nizahl’s laws limit the Supreme’s powers over the army. Once the Supreme appoints a Commander, those responsibilities transfer.” He shook his shoe loose from the clutches of a shrub. “The Commander happened upon Jeru hours before his execution.”

Execution? What in Dania’s sacred skirt could Jeru have done to merit losing his frizzy head? “Did he murder someone? Burn a village to the ground?”

“He stole a bag of oats.”

I opened my mouth, then clamped it shut.

“They leveled the charge against Jeru, though the real culprit was the stonemason’s twelve-year-old son. The child’s father had lost his arm in an accident, and his younger sister hadn’t eaten in three days. The child stole the oats. Jeru told the patrol he did. Fortunately, His Highness had an appointment with a dignitary from the village. The child recognized the royal crest on his horse and pleaded for Jeru. His liege pardoned Jeru and offered him a position in the academy.”

“What about his family?”

“His Highness set up a nimwa system for their village. It allotted every family a weekly amount of grains and milk. Jeru’s family live off his wages.”

Nimwa.The Nizahl dialect sounded gruffer leaving Wes’s tongue. It reminded me of another word. “Wes, what doessurairamean?”

His thick brows met in a U-shaped wrinkle. It seemed to surprise him any time I displayed evidence of intelligent thought. Whether this was a byproduct of my constant complaining or his own preconceived bias was unclear.

“Suraira is said to be a demon of mishap protecting Sirauk,” he said. “Some Nizahlans believe Suraira dwells beneath the bridge and emerges during a crossing to compel humans to their death.”

I rubbed my arms, stepping over the carcass of a partially eaten rabbit. “Compel?”

Wes sighed, likely wishing he’d chosen sleep over this conversation. “No one is certain what occurs in the crossing. Suraira crafts her victims an image of beauty, decadence, freedom from their woes and burdens. She lures them into willingly leaping off the bridge and into the abyss. Every kingdom has outlandish stories about crossing Sirauk; Suraira is merely one of Nizahl’s. How did you hear the name?”

Apparently, by being likened to a devious demon of mishap by his Heir.

Mist sprayed my face as we crossed the last line of trees. The gush of Hirun had never sung so sweetly. I jogged ahead, abandoning my slippers behind me. The first splash of cool water against my ankles was heaven.

I waded deeper. This river wound through every kingdom, and no one had ever traveled from one end to the other. Of all that had come and gone, Hirun remained unchanged. The only true axis in a land of shifting sands.

“Sylvia!” Jeru shouted. His voice was far away. Water surged around my waist. My feet had carried me farther than I intended.

A ball of tightly packed dirt hit the water and exploded in my face. A lump flew into my mouth. I hacked, pounding my chest, and lost my balance.

Wes and Jeru’s shouts faded as the river catapulted my weightless body along. I flailed, struggling to keep my head above the murky water. A log bobbed ahead, directly in my path. Cheerfully waiting to behead me.

I ducked. Frigid water swept over me. My skirt dragged, pulling me deeper. I kicked it off and pumped my legs. When the river curved, I used the momentum to launch myself toward shore.

Hands reached forward, hauling me onto solid ground. I slapped them aside as soon as my knees were on dry earth and gagged.

“How did you run so quickly?” I rasped. I shoved my dripping hair off my shoulders, shuddering in disgust at the green webs tangled in the strands. “I left you on the opposite bank.”

The pair crouching in front of me were not Wes and Jeru.

“Rovial’s horned heifer,” I groaned. “Are you two determined to die?”

Marek grinned. “We missed you, too.”

I shook my head, shoving aside my glee at the sight of my two favorite fools. “A whiff of sense, adrop. That’s all I ask. If the guards find you—”

“They won’t,” Sefa reassured. “Unless you plan on lounging for much longer.”

Belatedly, I remembered my legs were covered only by the thin white shift I’d worn beneath my skirt. My hair fell from its braid, hanging in wet waves around me.

“Did you plan this?” Neither Marek nor Sefa attempted to touch me again, a gesture I appreciated now more than ever.

“We’ve been searching for you since the waleema,” Marek said.

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