Page 79 of The Jasad Heir

Vaun’s nostrils flared. An insult to Arin always affected him in disproportionate amounts. I leapt forward. His nose cracked against my fist. He snapped my arm back hard enough to pop and kicked me in the chest, sending me sprawling.

I scrambled up. Gritting my teeth, I wrenched my arm back into its socket.

“Honestly, I find his incompetence thrilling. I’m here because he cannot manage to do his sole duty as Commander and capture Jasadis.” This was too easy. Surely Vaun would see through these adolescent tricks.

He reddened. “Keep his name out of your filthy mouth.”

I saw it, then. The fastest route to the finish. “But he likes my mouth,” I purred.

The way Vaun reacted, one would think he’d swallowed a dozen vials of rochelya venom. A disturbing blankness washed over him. “I’m warning you—”

I spoke faster. “Your grand leader, debasing himself with an abomination. I tolerate his clumsy affections. What choice do I have? He’s as incompetent in be—”

I never finished the sentence. Vaun tackled me. Rage hadn’t made him ungainly. It simply removed his reservations. We grappled, but he held the superior position. In the grips of his frenzy, he hit me, over and over again. I grew slack beneath him. A piercing hum rang in my ears.

“Never again,” he growled. He took a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back. “Lying whore. He wouldn’t—no. Never again.”

His forearm pressed down on my windpipe. I didn’t need Niphran’s specter to know he meant to kill me. I clawed at him, raking bloody lines down his cheek.

This would not be how my family ended.

“I should have run you through the first day,” he spat. “Filth like you should never survive this long.”

Behind him, the rabbit bounded in the air, out of the children’s reach. The tree ruffled over Niyar’s head, and from his seat at its base, he flipped the page of the book eternally open across his lap. Palia squinted on the palace steps, searching for Niyar. I’d seen this scene a million times since I arrived.

“You’re right,” I gasped. Black spots burst across my vision. My cuffs tightened. I should have died at the Blood Summit alongside everyone I loved. An honorable death, a worthy one. Never knowing the iron tang of blood filling my mouth, the crack of a whip as it sliced into my flesh. All my potential for greatness wouldn’t have been tested. I wouldn’t have failed Jasad so catastrophically.

But like a rat scrabbling in the dark, I’d lived.

On the wall, Palia put her hands on her hips, as though in wait.

Calling on every last vestige of strength, I unfurled my fingers.

We burst into flames.

They flared around me harmlessly, but Vaun bellowed and hurtled back. Tiny flames wound around my body, slithered in my braid.

I dragged myself to a stand, ignoring my shrieking body. Vaun retreated. I relished his fear, drank it in. I curled my fingers, and the curved sword on the chest flew, the pointed tip coming to a stop at his heart. I squeezed my fist, and it cut through his clothes. Vaun flung himself into the wall. The sword followed, pinning him in place.

Killing Vaun would solve so many problems. Letting him live would be letting more Jasadis die.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

“Drop the sword, Sylvia,” Arin said, low and soothing. I had not heard him enter, but it didn’t matter. I would sense him from miles away.

The words were hoarse from my mangled throat. “Why should I?”

Arin entered my line of sight, obscuring Vaun. Dust covered him from shoulder to waist, and a bruise bloomed high on his cheekbone.

“You are not a murderer.”

“I am, actually,” I chuckled. The fire jumped, preventing him from getting closer. “You don’t make that distinction when killing Jasadis. Why shouldn’t I behave as a killer if I’m to suffer the same fate regardless?”

Arin assessed my appearance, my wrecked face and the awkward angle of my broken bones. Comprehension washed over him, leaving grim resolution in its place.

He stepped aside.

The strangled noise Vaun made was almost enough to satisfy me. Almost.

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