Chapter 14

14

Quil

Quil composed his face as he wiped his hands and scim—wet from the blood of so many dead Kegari—on the scarf Musa had placed earlier. The prince was skilled at walling off his emotions. He'd learned through the gauntlet of court life, his every expression dissected and analyzed.

So, even as Navium burned and the roar of fire marked the destruction of the world he knew, he forced himself to focus on what was before him: A girl with bitter laughter. A friend so terrified of losing the people he loved that he was willing to kill her. And the very real possibility that the Kegari would swoop down and blow this shabka to pieces if they didn't get the hells away from Navium.

"Quil." Arelia scanned the ocean and skies. "We need to pick a direction."

The tracker stopped laughing. "The next time you talk to dear Da"—she glared at Sufiyan—"tell him I don't appreciate him chaining me to a mission he wasn't honest about. When my family finds me and subjects me to a brutal death, tell him my ghost will follow him around wailing and tormenting him until the end of his days!"

Sufiyan hadn't released his knife, and Quil stepped between him and the tracker. More death wasn't going to solve anything.

"What did you do to him?" Sufiyan demanded.

"Nothing! As if anyone could take that ring off your father." The girl rolled her brown eyes and shimmied back to put distance between herself and Sufiyan. Despite her bindings she moved with grace. "Do you even know the man? He could crush my skull with his bare hand. I told you, he gave it to me."

Quil eased the dagger from Sufiyan's hand and pulled him a few steps away, toward Arelia. "I don't think she's lying, Suf." The prince glanced at the shoreline, where Sails patrolled. "We'll get more answers later. Right now, we need to get the hells out of here. I'm thinking we head south."

He didn't elaborate. He'd told Suf and Arelia about Aunt Hel's orders as soon as they left the palace. If they were to find Tas, then they needed to get to the Ankanese capital, Burku.

Arelia understood Quil's intent and spun the shabka's wheel. The tracker shook her head.

"You understand geography, yes? The Kegari are coming from the south."

While Quil didn't think the girl was a spy, he didn't trust her enough to tell her anything significant.

"We have friends there," Sufiyan spoke up. "Though—maybe we should head to the Tribal Lands. Take shelter. Or ask the jinn for help."

Arelia spoke up from the helm. "They won't help," she said. "The palace engineers wished to visit their capital. Their ruling council told us to get stuffed. They want nothing to do with humans."

"Head west." The tracker fidgeted, not-so-surreptitiously pulling at her bonds. "To Jibaut."

"The Kegari are using Jibaut for their reserve troops." Sufiyan was calmer now, though still cautious of the girl. "We can't go straight into the maw of the beast."

"No one will expect anyone fleeing Navium to head west," the girl said, and Quil wondered if he was imagining the slight desperation in her voice. "I have friends in Jibaut. Kade, a rare books dealer. He knows everything that goes on in that city—he'll know how to avoid the Kegari."

"That's not worth our lives." Sufiyan turned to Quil and Arelia. "If we go east, we can get a proper ship, clothing, weaponry." He looked down at his finery in disgust. "We don't even have armor."

The tracker groaned. "You can get those things in Jibaut! I could—"

"Jibaut is too dangerous." Quil spoke firmly, lest the tracker think she had a say in where they went. "The Tribal Lands aren't safe. If the Kegari attack—"

"We should be there," Sufiyan said. "Tribe Saif is wintering in Sadh. We must warn them."

"Musa will have done it already." Arelia lowered her voice. "With the wights. Quil's right."

"You should untie me," the tracker called out. "Whichever way you're going, we need to move faster. I can help."

Quil met her gaze, trying to read the intention behind it, trying to glean any information at all. She spoke Serran with a slight lilt, but Quil couldn't place where she was from. One might say she had the long lashes of a Scholar, or the high cheekbones and square jaw of a Martial, and yet on closer inspection, she looked like neither. She wore tight-fitting leathers and deep red boots, and though she was tall, Quil was taller. She was striking, and from the smirk on her face, Quil suspected she knew it.

"Like what you see, Martial?"

Quil flushed and looked away.

"What do we do with her?" Arelia lowered her voice. "We can't keep her tied up all the way to Ankana."

"If Aba hired her," Sufiyan said, "I want to know why. He's been traveling for months looking for…"

The murderer. Sufiyan didn't say it, but they all knew.

"But Ama asked him to come home," Sufiyan said. "You know he can't say no to her. Maybe he hired this tracker to continue the hunt."

If that was the case, Elias wouldn't want the girl anywhere near Sufiyan. He'd wanted to join his father and hunt his younger brother's murderer—had fought for days with his mother and sisters about it before acquiescing to their wishes and staying behind in the Tribal Lands.

Quil put a hand to his head. Skies, he needed time to think, to consider all the implications of keeping this tracker on the ship.

Far ahead, the land curved and Quil could make out a thin white band of beach. In the sun, the water would be pale blue.

Aunt Helene taught him to swim in those shoals as a boy. He'd feared the deeper water, the way the ocean dropped away and he couldn't feel anything beneath his feet. You must learn , his aunt insisted. You can't trust someone else to save you. You must do the saving. Do it enough and you'll develop a knack for it. An instinct you'll learn to trust.

He wouldn't throw this tracker in the sea. That instinct his aunt had tried to drill into him now told him that he needed to give her a chance to prove herself.

"She'll stay on board," Quil said.

"Oi. Martial," the tracker called out beside the shabka's rail. "As much as I enjoy being tied up by you, I really think you should unbind me."

"Quil!" Sufiyan grabbed his arm. At first, the prince couldn't make out what he was pointing to, but then he caught a flash of movement in the distant skies behind them.

Kegari Sails. Heading straight for them.

"They can't possibly see us from that far away," Arelia said, but she didn't sound particularly sure of herself.

"They're coming right at us." The blood drained from Sufiyan's face. "There's nothing else out here."

Quil's stomach lurched, the way it used to when he had to face a room of courtiers. But with Sufiyan and Arelia staring at the Sails in stark terror, he forced himself to speak calmly.

"Can you make this thing go any faster, Arelia?" he asked.

"Maybe if I had a few days to tinker with the engine. But I've only ever seen schematics."

"You can't outrun them," the tracker said, staring at the Sails. "Even if you had ten engines. Untie me. I can help."

Sufiyan and Arelia ignored her, the latter scanning the shore. "We won't make it to land," she said.

"You should jump." Sufiyan's voice was flat. "You and Quil. I'll stay here, distract them—"

Arelia frowned. "That serves no purpose. The odds are that—"

Quil clenched his fists as Arelia and Sufiyan argued. They couldn't run. They couldn't hide. They couldn't even fight, because the Kegari would rain down fire and death.

"Martial." The tracker spoke, low enough that only Quil could hear her. She squirmed, panic creeping onto her features. "I'd say we have seven minutes before they start circling. Another three before they drop one of those infernal bombs on us. Let me go—I swear, I'll get us out of it. You can trust me. I'll prove it."

Quil approached her warily.

"Lift up my shirt. I want you to see something," she said, and at Quil's scandalized expression, she sighed. "Not that. Lift it!"

He did as she asked, her skin warm against his fingertips. She had an injury above her hip that had bled through a binding. He winced at the sight.

"I'll deal with it later." She flicked her gaze down to a pouch strapped at the flare of her waist. "Untie it," she said. "Quickly."

At the surprising heft of the pouch, the prince realized what was inside.

"Bleeding hells," he said. "How much—"

"That's the ten percent Elias paid me to take on this mission." She spoke with an intensity that startled Quil. He wasn't used to it. Probably because so few people were willing to meet his gaze for an entire sentence.

"You don't know me. I understand that," she said. "But consider: Sufiyan's father and the hero of the bleeding Empire trusted me enough to hire me for a job. To pay me for it."

If Quil reached out to touch her, if he let his magic out of its cage, he'd see her memories. He'd know in an instant if she was telling the truth.

Yes , his magic whispered.

No , Quil growled back. He had no intention of digging around someone's mind.

"Your friend was right—I'm tracking a murderer." Sirsha glanced over Quil's shoulder at the swiftly approaching Sails. "Elias trusted me because he knew my reputation and because I gave him my word."

Quil quashed his sadness at how desperate Elias must have been to hire an unproven tracker from skies-knew-where to hunt down the fiend who killed his son.

"Trust me, like Elias trusted me," the girl said. "Cut me loose. Please."

Never depend on anyone else to keep you safe, nephew. You keep them safe instead.

Sometimes, that meant fighting, defending. But right now, instinct told him to trust this tracker. Quil cut her bonds, two swift slices of his dagger.

Sufiyan glanced over. "What are you doing?"

"She has a plan," Quil said. "Which is more than I can say for us." He turned back to her. "Perhaps you should tell us your name."

"Sirsha Westering," she said, and he might have imagined it, but as their eyes met, he felt a shift in his skin, a flash of something in her face that wasn't disdain. "Tracker and ship's malcontent. The pleasure is all yours. You," she called to Sufiyan. "Take off your shirt. Arelia, cut the engine. If we look like we're trying to escape, it will only anger them. Check the servants' cabin for something nondescript to change into."

Arelia flew down to the cabins and Sufiyan stripped, eyeing Sirsha with something between curiosity and mistrust.

"Get oars in the water." She pointed Sufiyan to the rowers' bench. "Quil"—she regarded the prince—"tear off the sleeves of your tunic," she said. "And turn around."

"I don't trust you enough to turn my back," he said.

She raised her eyebrows as she dug a bundle of cloth from her pack. "Fine," she said, and began to pull off her clothing.

Quil spun around, cheeks heating, trying to rid himself of the brief but potent image of her bare skin. A light, metallic ringing sounded, like wind chimes. It was strangely familiar, though he couldn't place it. The ship slowed, and moments later, Arelia emerged from the engine room wearing the wrinkled blue uniform of a palace maid. When she looked past Quil's shoulder, her jaw dropped, and despite himself, Quil turned.

Sirsha was no longer the scrappy tracker who'd tried to steal their ship. She was clad now in the unmistakable, heavily embroidered formal robes and gold chain headdress of a Jaduna.

Quil understood then that Sirsha was either far stupider than she seemed, or far more reckless. "Did you rob a bleeding Jaduna? How in the skies did you survive?"

"No one robs a Jaduna and lives to tell the tale."

Quil thought the frisson in Sirsha's voice was fear, before realizing that it was pride. He understood then why she appeared familiar. She bore the hallmarks of her people. That surety of gaze, the haughty walk, the confidence that comes with knowing you're the most powerful person in the room.

"You are a Jaduna," he said. Of course. Elias wouldn't trust anyone less skilled to hunt for Ilar and Ruh's killer. "Why haven't you broken free yet? You could've taken our heads off."

"We have two minutes before they can see us clearly. Three before they land. Don't spend it asking doltish questions." Sirsha raised her voice so Sufiyan and Arelia could hear.

"I'm a Jaduna sorceress, traveling from Adisa, where I've completed a contract. You"—she pointed to Arelia—"are my maid and have taken a vow of silence. Sufiyan, I picked you up in Navium after my engine failed. And you, Quil, are my bodyguard and manservant."

Sufiyan stifled a guffaw at the crown prince's demotion to "manservant."

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Sirsha said as Quil bristled. "You're the best fighter here, and if it comes to it, I'll need you on the deck stabbing people."

Quil struggled to hide both his pleasure at Sirsha noticing his skill in combat and his discomfort at being reduced to a mere killer.

"I'm trusting you," he said. "Don't make me regret it."

"The rich boy has teeth." Sirsha purred at him, her smile flashing in the darkness. "I like it."

The Kegari hovered directly above them now, the metal of their great dark Sails flashing. Quil tucked clenched fists into the pockets of his tunic to hide his rage. I spend most days angry , his aunt told him once. But that doesn't mean I have to show it.

Sirsha drew herself up, face hardening into the imperious lines of a Jaduna sorceress. Quil, standing behind her, took a step back. The magic-users were legendary. Even the Empress approached them with great care, insisting that Quil learn the intricacies of Jaduna law and etiquette so he could treat with them appropriately.

Ropes dropped from the Sail, and two Kegari soldiers rappelled down, spry as acrobats. One was lanky and dark-haired; his female companion was light-haired and freckled. They wore sleeveless flight leathers and shining white wrist cuffs.

Quil tried not to stare at those cuffs, but after fighting the Kegari in the city, he knew what they were. Weapons that stretched and moved with a life of their own. Weapons that had torn through Empire soldiers.

"Light of the Spires," Sirsha greeted the Kegari in Ankanese. Arelia exchanged a glance with Quil. Of course a Jaduna would speak Ankanese— it was the primary language of the entire Southern Continent. Aunt Helene insisted Quil speak it fluently, and Arelia had a knack for languages. Light of the Spires was not a phrase either of them had heard.

"Long may it guide us." The dark-haired Kegari lifted his brows at Sirsha. "The Jaduna have ever been courteous to the Kegari. We didn't know your people to sail these waters."

"I am on a sacred mission," Sirsha said. "Of an urgent nature." She didn't add more, and the Kegari didn't ask, possibly as leery of the Jaduna as the Martials.

"Do the Jaduna not have their own transport? Why use an Empire vessel?"

"I will not explain myself to you." Sirsha spoke slowly, as if to a child. "Our people don't interfere with each other. Let's not upset centuries of tradition."

The Kegari tilted his head, assessing. "You're caught in the middle of a war, Jaduna. It would be within my rights to have you held until I confirm you're not spying for the Martials."

"Do you own the ocean as well as the land, Kegari?" Sirsha snapped, and the boat rocked, seemingly in response. The other Kegari shifted from foot to foot, uneasy.

"You have no rights here." Sirsha stepped into the man's face, chin high, so much a Jaduna sorceress that Quil wondered how he'd missed it. "And your war "—she spat the word—"has already delayed me. Go your way. And perhaps I'll not mention to Raani Inashi-fa Ima S'rsha iy R'zwana that you dared to suggest a Jaduna would serve as a spy for any nation."

Bleeding hells. Perhaps Sirsha was reckless. The Raanis were the highest-ranking Jaduna. The six women led their people as a unit. Quil couldn't imagine one would take kindly to having her name bandied about as a shield.

The Kegari stepped back. "Where is your ship headed, honored Jaduna?" He was considerably more polite. "I will provide you an escort, so you are not harassed further."

"No Jaduna needs an escort—"

"Nonetheless," the Kegari said with a bit more steel in his voice, "I am honor bound to provide it. At least for a few days. Revna will accompany you." He nodded to his companion.

The bastard had trapped Sirsha. If she rejected him, he'd suspect something was wrong and their deception might be discovered. If she accepted him, they'd be stuck with a Kegari looking over their shoulder, possibly for weeks.

Sirsha was apparently making the same calculation as Quil.

Say Ankana , Quil willed her. Say we're going south.

"Jibaut," she finally said, naming the city where the entire bleeding Kegari reserve force was stationed. Damn her to the hells.

"I travel to Jibaut," she went on. "And I would be delighted to have an escort."