Page 66 of The Jasad Heir
Arin paused. Amusement crept into his face. It baffled me, how much he seemed to enjoy being cornered or outpaced. Every exchange with the Nizahl Heir was a game. A battle of wills on a blood-soaked field with him as the last man standing.
“You want to trade?”
“Yes.” I pointed an innocent smile at him. “You told me every truth has its time. Let this be yours.”
“I could force it from you. Painfully.”
Front strike. Obvious and easy to block. Too easy.
“We only have three weeks left until we leave for Lukub. My magic still isn’t working. You cannot afford to waste training time while I recover from your torture.”
“But I can afford your friends’ time.” He tipped his head. “Who shall I start with, Sefa or the boy?”
“You will not have my full cooperation if you torture them. You might even run the risk of motivating them to escape, which would be a waste of your resources and loss of a training tool.”
I was enjoying myself. I had had little opportunity to be truly cunning in Mahair. It felt like flexing a muscle I had forgotten existed.
I had never met anyone quite asstillas Arin of Nizahl. The man could be carved from stone. “I have a theory.”
I raised a brow. “Congratulations.”
He ignored me. “I propose a different trade. Tell me about the Jasadi by the river, and I will share my theory behind your attack in Essam.”
Oh, a fatal blow. I pulled at the frayed ends of my gown while I considered my options. Learning why he possessed a strange sensitivity to magic was important, but not urgent. It would not serve me unless he also mentioned how one could develop an immunity to his touch. But the person who attacked me in Essam knew me, knew my history with Hanim, and wanted to kill me for it.
A sigh escaped my lips. “I accept your trade.” And so he once again remained alone on the battlefield, my shadow of resistance chased to oblivion.
He knit his hands over his stomach. Leaned back. “Next time, you might have more to bargain with.”
“I don’t need your consolation.”
“Would you prefer my mockery?”
“Just your theory. Or your well-crafted lie. They are probably one and the same.”
Thunder cracked over his expression, bright and startlingly violent. Oh, I had pierced his granite layers, had I?
“I do notlie. Who do you think you are, that I would tarnish my integrity to fool you?”
“I am your Champion. Your student. You work hard to provoke my magic into existence.” This time, it was me who remained calm. “I have unfortunate news about your integrity, Commander.”
The ripple of anger dissolved as quickly as it appeared. His expression smoothed into the mask I had learned to approach with extreme caution, and Teta Palia’s old caution rang in my ear.A tree without roots is like a river without a current, Essiya. A sign of disrupted nature. Of chaos. If something is not made to bend, what can it do but break?
I did not think Arin of Nizahl could be broken. But I did think he could be pushed far enough to break everyone else.
When he spoke again, it was toneless. A recital of facts. “My theory concerns the number of Jasadis after you. The Urabi and the Mufsids maintain a general pattern. The Urabi recruit or abduct useful Jasadis. The Mufsids take the willing Jasadis away and slaughter the rest. On the few occasions in which they are after the same Jasadi, the identity of their target remains a mystery. You are the exception, because I reached you before they did.”
“Is your theory about why they are after me?”
Arin’s lips twisted wryly. “A theory is a possible answer to a posed question. I have an answer to why they are after you.”
“That I was a noble, or some important Jasadi figure? Do you truly suppose a noble could survive as a village peasant for years?” I shook my head, quickly changing the subject. “What is your theory?”
“Someone from the Mufsids or the Urabi has gone rogue,” Arin said.
I tugged the loose strands at the bottom of my braid free, curling them around my finger. “Rogue how?”
“The specter in the woods would have killed you if I had not been near. If the Mufsids and Urabi are attempting to recruit you, and you have not rejected them, why kill you? There must be a defector, most likely someone from the Mufsids. They must have a strong reason to want you dead if they are willing to go against their own group.”
