Page 62 of The Jasad Heir

Smooth leather pressed against the wings of my cheeks. He pulled the fabric tightly over my eyes. Brush rustled around us as the guards presumably scattered, setting up posts to disorient me.

“How close will Sefa and Marek be?” Addressing Arin in the dark sent a shiver of unease down my neck.

“They will shift around the woods throughout the session. We need to determine whether their physical distance matters for triggering your magic.”

Arin stepped away. “Try to follow me.”

The woods went quiet as Arin vanished. The darkness didn’t throw me as much as I had anticipated, and I walked with relative comfort. I trailed my hands from tree to tree, straining to hear footsteps. My magic remained removed from this venture, leaving my cuffs docile and dull on my wrists.

The crunch of leaves alerted me seconds before a shoulder slammed into mine. I careened, barely catching myself from a disgraceful tumble.

Branches snapped to my left, and I ducked. Needles rained down on my head. How did Arin expect me to find him while buffeted in every direction by his guards? My magic didn’t care that Marek and Sefa were nearby.

The sound of my body became deafening the longer I stumbled along. My breaths were harsh to my own ears, my footfalls clumsy and loud. The stammer of my heart matched the pounding in my head. They weren’t hunting me; they were toying with their conquered prize.

I shoved past the thought. I was not an eleven-year-old girl anymore, wandering Essam Woods in the night while monsters born of Hanim’s spells gave chase. Terror had not induced my magic then, and it would not help me now.

Something wet and tacky hit my forehead. I gasped, wiping frantically at my face.

“Filth for filth,” Vaun whispered, directly into my ear.

I lunged for him and met empty air. I failed to catch myself this time, landing hard on my knees.

A clicking hum preceded the scuttle of pointy legs over my hand. A munban. I thrashed, pushing to my feet too quickly and clipping my shoulder against a tree. I was surrounded by threats I couldn’t see, and they were winning.

The next feint came from the right. I dove to the left instead, colliding with a distinctly human body. These weremywoods. I fed this soil my blood and broken tears, sharpened its teeth on the fine flesh of monsters. In Essam, I reigned supreme.

Breathy noises leaked from my open mouth as I tightened my fist and smashed it into the side of what was hopefully a head. Did Vaun think I wouldn’t kill him? I wasn’t held to the same code of ethics as his precious Heir. I would rip his head from his shoulders and spit on his skull. I would crush what was left of him into the dirt, because his remains weren’t fit to feed animals.

“Sylvia!”

The bloodsong wailing through me paused. For a terrible moment, I could not locate my mouth in the swirling savagery. “Marek?” I patted at the chest beneath me, checking for a guardsman’s vest. It wasn’t there. “Marek, I’m so sorry!”

I rolled away from him, but the urge to tear a living thing asunder and plant my fury into its quivering heart remained.

Approaching footsteps pushed me to my haunches. I crouched, ready to spring.

“Remove the blindfold,” Arin said.

Awareness came too late, after I had already launched myself. A bone-crushing grip caught my arms before I could slam into the Heir.

“You,” Arin said. “Take off her blindfold.”

The cloth fell to the ground, and I blinked rapidly against the piercing light. Arin released me. His searching look resembled the one he’d worn when I dangled myself over Hirun. As though I’d failed some elusive test, but not in a way he had anticipated.

“Why did you wait?” he asked. “Why didn’t you remove the blindfold yourself?”

My vision settled. The drum beating its feral tune faded, taking Hanim and her fiends with it. The hazy words leaving my mouth belonged to a different girl, addressed to a dead woman. “You didn’t say I could. I have to follow the instructions.”

Good girl, Hanim whispered.

In almost humorous unison, Marek and Arin’s brows furrowed. Arin’s smoothed again, but I knew his dangerous curiosity had been piqued.

“In the future, avoid touching the trees while you run,” Arin said lightly. “Even the sap in Ayume can kill you.”

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find the scent of Mahair surrounding me. Fruit displayed in colorful arrays, fresh cutlets of lamb, ground spices heaped in wooden bowls. I sorted through the food, some of which had passed from season months ago, with wonder.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it?” Wes asked. I dropped into my seat, pulling a bowl of oats soaked in lavender and honey toward me.

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