Page 131 of The Jasad Crown
“The traitor visited the Ravening compound a month ago, and he made no report of finding the fugitive masquerading as a Nizahl recruit. During his last visit, he murdered the section leader and, again, made no report of the fugitive,” Vaun said.
“Sulor chose a trial of Fortune by Four instead of arrest,” Marek protested. “He lost. Under Nizahl’s laws, it isn’t murder.”
“The Heir outlawed the Fortune by Four years ago,” Banana Man snapped, seeming revolted at the necessity of addressing Marek. “The guardsman had no right to deprive the courts of finding justice.”
Outlawed? No wonder Jeru had looked ill after killing Sulor.
Marek couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They would never have found Sulor guilty! He was taking bribes from royal families, families that pay members of the courts! Rerouting patrols, falsifying records, and conscripting non-eligible children from the lower villages—”
“We are not here to litigate the matter of the section leader’s death,” Layla said gently. She crossed to Arin, who had yet to blink away from the hearth. “My liege, would you like us to have them both sent back to Nizahl to await trial?”
Marek’s heart stopped. If they tossed both of them in a wagon headed for Nizahl, Sefa would die. She would die alone in the dirt, the wails of her fellow prisoners the last sound in her ears. “You can’t. No, please,please—”
“Untie the boy,” the Heir said, the order as disconnected as the rest of him. “Let him try to rescue his friend.”
Banana Man’s expression cracked with outrage, but he managed to hold his tongue. Vaun looked like he had swallowed a nest of wasps, but he swiped his dagger through Marek’s ropes.
Marek rose, rubbing his wrists. “What about Jeru?”
“You should go,” Layla said, and her patronizing tone annoyed Marek more than Vaun’s glare and Banana Man’s catty remarks. “The Heir has granted you your freedom. Don’t squander it.”
Marek ignored her. “Are you listening to me, you silver-haired bastard? What about Jeru?”
Vaun’s fist crashing into Marek’s jaw—expected. The furious outbursts from the Heir’s advisors and sycophants—also expected.
The sudden burst of laughter from the Heir? Most assuredly not expected.
The cabin went silent. United in their confusion, prisoner and advisor alike watched the Commander bow in laughter as though Marek had tossed out a side-splitting jest instead of an insult.
“Silver-haired bastard,” Arin repeated, gloved hands wiping at his eyes. “You Lazurs are cannier than you think.”
Today of all days, Marek needed Arin of Nizahl to be Arin of Nizahl, and not this… disengaged impostor. “If Sefa dies, it is on your head,” Marek said. “I don’t know why she cut off the Sultana’s finger, but she would never have stolen that ring if she didn’t have a good reason. She is half-Nizahlan—she is owed your protection.”
Vague interest flickered over Arin’s features. “Ring?”
“The attendant was arrested for assaulting the Sultana and stealing both her finger and the ring,” Banana Man said.
The Heir nodded to himself, as though it made perfect sense. Marek wished he could rip into the Heir’s skull and wrench out an explanation. What did he see in Sefa’s actions that Marek didn’t? Marek knew her better than anyone alive.
Before he could speak and earn himself another blow from Vaun, the cabin began to shake.
A mirror tilted forward and smashed into a wooden bench, spraying glass in every direction. The wardrobe rocked, its doors flying open. Layla reached for the Heir’s arm while Banana Man shrank behind Vaun.
In the distraction, Marek tried to lift Jeru by the elbow, but the obstinate, tombs-damned man wouldn’t get off his knees. “I betrayed an oath, Marek,” Jeru snapped in response to Marek’s snarled order. “Do you understand that? I know you haven’t bothered keeping an oath in your life, but they mean something. To some of us, they are worth dying for.”
Stung, Marek stepped away from the guardsman. No matter what he did, Marek would always just be the cowardly Lazur, wouldn’t he?
“You broke an oath, and the price is death. My siblings kept their oaths, and their price was death,” Marek said quietly. “Judge me for it as you like, Jeru, but I will never apologize for wanting to live. Iwill never apologize for choosing Sefa. My oaths may look different than yours, but they are no less important.”
Jeru dropped his eyes, and Marek let himself believe he saw an apology in them.
The Commander wasn’t paying attention to any of them. He shook Layla off without a second glance and strode toward the door.
“Your Highness, it isn’t safe!” Vaun pursued Arin, and the rest of them reluctantly followed. Marek spared one last glance toward the bowed guardsman.
Outside the cabin, the wind whipped Marek’s hair into his eyes. He raised his arm to shield his face from flying debris. The trees around their cabin swayed, leaning into one another as though clustering for shelter. The ground quaked, pebbles skipping around their feet.
The Commander seemed entirely unconcerned with the prospect of being crushed to death by a falling tree. He had gone eerily still, his gaze tracking the darkness of the woods.
