Page 43 of The Jasad Heir
My aim met true… in a sense. The knife sailed past Arin and sliced into his horse’s flank. It shrieked, rearing onto its haunches. Had Arin been seated, he would been thrown directly over the riverbank, his body smashed into the stones at the bottom.
I made an unintelligible noise of frustration as the rope in his hand went taut. He swung off the horse with disconcerting grace and landed at the base of my tree. His horse galloped off into the woods.
“You can’t use your magic. Someone or something has blocked it off.” Arin’s laugh, devoid of any warmth or humor, sent shivers along my spine. He retreated from my tree, and to my horror, began to climb the one right next to it. “How utterly miserable you must be.”
Why was he climbing the treenextto mine? I froze, unsure whether to climb higher or drop to the ground and outrun him on foot. He balanced himself on a branch parallel to mine, and I realized his intentions a split second too late.
A new dagger slammed into my arm, pinning me to the tree. I screamed, the sudden agony whiting out my vision.
You will not do this, Essiya, Hanim commanded.You will not allow the Supreme’s Heir to finish what his father started.
My cuffs tightened. I swallowed a sob. Everything hurt. I forced myself to look at the dagger. One good turn: it hadn’t hit bone.
But the next one might. He would cut and cut and cut at me until I crawled down in defeat. My blocked magic was an experiment to him, another string to tug and twist. He thought it would heal me. I did not know how to explain that my magic cared less about my suffering than he did.
“I will not be trapped again,” I whispered.
A path to the finish appeared before me. A way to end this, one way or the other.
I stuffed the torn sleeve in my mouth and grasped the hilt of the dagger. One breath. Two. I yanked the dagger from my arm, my muffled shriek reverberating in my ribs. My hand convulsed. Oh, it hurt, ithurt. Through blurry eyes, I watched the dagger tumble to the ground.
“You can climb down and end this whenever you want,” Arin said.
I spat the sleeve from my mouth. Fury cleared the haze of agony from my mind. He was so assured, so confident he would win. Why wouldn’t he be? Shedding Jasadi blood was his birthright.
For once, spite motivated me faster than fear. I peeled myself from the tree trunk. With my uninjured arm, I pushed myself away from the branch’s root. I scooted back—to the edge of the branch, directly above the riverbank. One stiff wind, and I would tumble over the side and splatter my insides on the stones below.
“What are you doing?” Astonishment underscored his harsh tone. He slid to the bottom of the tree and took a step toward me.
“Stop!” I shouted. “One more step and I’ll push myself off. You may think my magic might heal a few stab wounds, but can it knit together a broken body?”
In a blink, his expression went calm and steady. I wanted to slap it off. Did he discard his frustration like a stray eyelash or merely push it down?
“You have lost a great volume of blood. I expect you have minutes until you faint. I will not be fast enough to catch you,” he said.
“Good.”
He took a step forward. Did he think I was making empty threats? I sealed my free hand around the branch and dropped to the side. I went airborne.
The branch crackled ominously, bending under the weight of my body. The veins in my hand bulged with the strain of holding on. I dangled from the branch and felt the inexplicable urge to cackle. If this was how magic-madness felt, I understood why Rovial had wanted to burn the world down.
Arin had darted closer, but not close enough. If he took another step and I let go, I would hit the rocks before he reached me. A fuzziness had already begun to encroach on the margins of my sight.
His manner remained unmoved. He proceeded as though we were sitting down to share a pleasant meal together. “What do you want?”
What I meant to say was “Your severed head rotating on a spit.”
What came out was significantly worse.
“Freedom. Real freedom.” The branch whined. I slid farther down, tightening my sweat-slickened fingers at the last minute.
“I offered you freedom, and you ran away.”
I scoffed. The beat of my heart slowed, becoming as heavy as the rest of me. “I have no need for your empty promises, Commander. Throw your clouds to the sky. I will keep my feet planted in the earth.”
“How can I convince you my word is true?”
I stared at him with open bewilderment. I had prepared to die in the river with the knowledge that the Heir’s offer of freedom meant nothing. Was this another game?
