Page 71 of The Jasad Crown
Namsa shot me a knowing smirk. I squinted, not entirely convinced the woman I’d brought back from the cliffside was the same woman who had kicked my liver into my skull the first day we met. Who knew she had such emotional range? Until this morning, I would have said she was capable of two expressions: scowling and lightly scowling. “Ten hours. The journey to the Omal palace will take roughly five days, if we push our magic to its limits.”
Our.Foreboding tightened my throat. “Who else is coming with us?”
“Me!” Maia grinned. “Lateef, of course, and Medhat. Efra, Namsa, Kenzie—”
I held up a finger. “There it is.”
Maia paused. “There what is?”
More and more, I marveled at how the Urabi had managed to evade capture for years. “The limit to how many people can move together in Essam Woods without alerting a patrol. In fact, I would be more comfortable if we stripped out two, but I could be persuaded otherwise.”
Maia’s gaze slid past me to Namsa, and my lips compressed into a flat line. Yet another silent look. Malika this, Mawlati that, all the airs and none of the actual authority.
“I agree with the Malika,” Namsa said lightly. “The kingdoms are on alert. We will need to move inconspicuously.”
“Speaking of moving.” I stood, keeping an eye on the platters of food maneuvering around the room. “How exactly are we getting to the Omal palace? You said five days, but Omal is nowhere near the mountains. It would take two weeks to cut across the Desert Flats, travel around Ayume, and move through Essam. If we factor in the added patrols and border sentries…” I tipped my hand side to side as I estimated how long it would take seven people to navigate the new obstacles. “Closer to three weeks.”
For the first time, a hint of nerves showed itself in Namsa’s restless fingers, picking at a loose thread by her pocket. “Right. Under normal circumstances, you would be right. Our method of transport to Omal might be a bit… disconcerting. It is difficult to explain, but we will reach Omal much faster than three weeks.”
She yanked at the thread as though it had spat on her mother’s face, so intent on avoiding my gaze that I couldn’t help but comfort her. “As long as it isn’t the spine of the Sareekh, I will not be disconcerted for long.”
Maia giggled too loudly and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Not quite the Sareekh.” Namsa tore the thread loose andgestured at the crush of Jasadis entering the dining hall. “If you want more stuffed squash, you’d better hurry.”
Sitting naked on the floor of my room, I stared into the mirror and counted the veins a third time.
It had taken a while to hunt them all down. One was a mere strip of gold under my right breast; another curved quietly along the joint of my hip. My belly, my leg, the inside of my thigh. All visited by a fresh vein.
A vein for each time I used my magic.
I dragged the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around myself, unable to move from the floor, petrified to leave the mirror and rise to a new reality where my paranoia became fact.
Nobody could see the veins but me. I’d tested it three times since the last vein appeared. When I held out my hand to take the plate from Maia, I’d kept my palm open and exposed. The vein was impossible to miss.
I traced the lines on my skin. A vein for each time I appeared to Arin. A vein for the magic I’d thrown around while drowning, before the Sareekh arrived. A vein for each kitmer I created on the cliffside. A vein for the magic I’d used to catapult Efra around Suhna Sea.
I had seen the veins multiply, and I had ignored them. I had felt the strange presence of my magic, pressing against the back of my head, and I had brushed it off.
My breath shuddered, growing shallower. The worry I’d throttled into submission over the last month broke from its captivity, submerging me into the panic I had fought so hard to avoid.
The figures from the waterfall. The memory of the woman dying at my hand. The visions my magic produced each time I asked for more of it.
Something was wrong with me.
I bent forward, pressing my forehead to the cold stone floor. The lifelong habit came on instinct, and my palm covered my wildly pounding heart.
One, two.I am alive.
Three, four.I am safe.
Five, six.I am not losing my mind.
My teeth chattered, shaking along with the rest of me. I reared away from the floor, gasping for air. The last time panic had consumed me so wholly had been the day after the first trial, when Supreme Rawain walked into my chambers to congratulate his Champion and call me a merit to Nizahl. It had taken hours to regain myself afterward, and I didn’t have hours. We were to leave for Omal in an hour. I was supposed to pack.
If we failed to convince Queen Hanan to reinstate me as the Omal Heir, we would have no choice but to raise the fortress. I would have to read the enchantment that burned Qayida Hend alive. The amount of magic it would demand—the amount of magic I would need to expend—
I tipped my head back, averting my gaze from the mirror, and focused on taking tiny sips of air.
