Page 64 of The Jasad Heir

The thought bothered me through the next day. Arin had yet to return. After I finished my set of trainings, Jeru accompanied me to Hirun carrying two baskets of dirty clothes. I breathed in the river’s scent and felt a knot in my chest loosen. It smelled terrible, as always, but a familiar terrible.

Jeru cursed as he sloshed around the river’s shallow shore, trying to spread the clothes out on the rocks without losing them to the current. I considered offering to help, but I was enjoying a rare moment of sunshine and did not feel inclined to move. I leaned back against a tree and crossed my legs at the ankles, wishing I’d brought a treat from the kitchen.

Jeru finally managed to secure the clothes over the boulders and rocks. He scooped water into the empty baskets and poured it over the clothes. I didn’t see Arin’s coats anywhere. Shame. I would have loved to kick them to the fish.

I had just closed my eyes to bask in the sunlight when a shout struck me upright.

Jeru splashed in the middle of Hirun, struggling to keep afloat. The water flowedaroundhim, leaving him fixed in the same spot.

Magic.

I bolted to my feet. An immaculately dressed woman stood on the banks of Hirun. Seven slits at the bottom of her abaya made the fabric seem to float around her legs, which were protected by gold-colored pants.

“We’ve been searching for you.” She turned around. Silver and gold swirled in her eyes. “Mawlati.”

Terror seized me in its grip and squeezed. The world spun, and I grabbed the tree for balance. She knew. Sheknew. Hadn’t I suspected as much? I’d been so desperate to be wrong that I barely let myself consider what I’d do when I came face-to-face with the Jasadis hunting me.

Mawlati.I hadn’t heard anyone but my grandmother called Mawlati. I never thought the title could belong to anyone other than her.

I forced myself straight. Weakness would win me no favor.

“Why do you call me Mawlati? The Jasad royal family is dead.”

She chuckled. “So we all thought. We cannot fathom how you remained hidden for so long, but you need not fear anymore. We have come to help you reclaim the throne that was taken from you.”

Denial was a doomed route. She would have already knocked me out without the grace of a conversation if she didn’t know who I was. “Do you belong to the Mufsids or Urabi?”

She stepped delicately around a pile of munban nests. The colors of magic continued to seethe in her eyes, holding Jeru in the river. The strength of her magic, her clothing, her demeanor. I had grown up around power like hers. She had to be from the first or second wilayah.

Her nose wrinkled. “I have no association with the brigade of cowards who call themselves Urabi.”

I wanted to pound my head against the tree. She belonged to the Mufsids. The Jasadi group Arin claimed left more dead Jasadi bodies in their wake than his soldiers.

“How did you find me?”

She stepped closer. I reached into my pocket, only to feel the lines of it sew themselves shut. The Mufsid wagged her finger. “I come in peace, Mawlati. I suggest you receive me in peace, as well.”

“You are drowning the guard.”

“No, not at all. Drowning would be too quick. I prefer to watch them choke over some time.” She dabbed at her glistening forehead. The magic was taking its toll.

Jasadi magic is not a bottomless well. Every Jasadi has a finite supply from which to draw.

I had to keep her occupied until she ran through her magic. By the time it replenished, I would be long gone.

“I have no desire to join the Mufsids. You kill Jasadis.”

The Mufsid gave me a look like I had just declared I dined on rat nails. “Yet you would align yourself with the Nizahl Heir?” She shook her head, raising an apologetic hand. “Forgive me, Mawlati. We know you are under duress and do not plan to complete the Alcalah as his Champion. I have come to take you. Our leaders are most eager to make your acquaintance.”

I circled through a dozen approaches and came away empty. I couldn’t exactly explain I intended to betray them to the Nizahl Heir. “If you wish to recruit me, why did you attack me with the specter of a dead woman?” The rotting corpse of Hanim looming over me still haunted my dreams.

Her thick brows pulled together. “We did no such thing. We would never. The Mufsids do not hide like the Urabi. Once we choose a path, we do not shy from it.”

I swallowed. Jeru’s thrashing had taken a turn for the worse, dwindling to lethargic writhing. He might not outlast this Mufsid’s magic.

I studied her. In a way, I felt an echo of kinship with this Jasadi. We shared a mutual loss. A scar on our souls in the shape of our scorched home. “Why are you killing Jasadis?”

The sunlight caught the lighter strands in her brown hair. The gold and silver had slowed to a churn as her magic depleted from the effort of holding Jeru. “We are trying tosaveJasadis. But some of our people believe it is better to hide, to live a life under another’s control, than to stand up and reclaim what they took from us. We cannot allow those Jasadis to be weaponized against our movement.”

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