Chapter 21

21

Sirsha

By the time the sun rose, Sirsha had led the group deep into the Devanese woods southwest of Jibaut. When the port city was out of sight, she suggested they slow down, but Quil drove them on, clearing their path through the undergrowth and casting glances above, lest a Kegari scout spot them through the canopy of trees.

The powerful Kegari soldier—whoever he was—had seen and identified Quil. The sky-rats would be looking for him everywhere.

To make matters worse, Sirsha felt uneasy. Unpleasantly so. Perhaps it was R'zwana's slimy presence. Sirsha kept it from the others, but she knew R'z would follow her. They were hunting the same quarry, and Sirsha was the better tracker. R'z wouldn't risk letting Sirsha get too far ahead.

She shuddered at the memory of R'z's vengeful face. Though they'd always had a troubled relationship, R'zwana appeared to have disintegrated into the worst version of herself.

But the shadow in Sirsha's mind—it didn't feel like R'z. It felt like something else was stalking her. Every time Sirsha tried to track it, it disappeared.

They finally stopped well after sunset. When Sirsha spotted a cave she knew of, she refused to go farther.

"The horses need rest." She glared at Quil, who looked longingly at the path ahead. "And I'm starving."

She was cranky, true, but less because she was hungry and more because the killer's trail was faint now. With every mile in the wrong direction, Elias's oath coin burned hotter, as if to remind Sirsha that she wasn't carrying out her end of the bargain with him.

For now, it would only burn. But in time, the mission would supplant every other need, to the detriment of herself and everyone around her.

She'd worry about that when it happened. Right now, she needed food and sleep.

"Fine," Quil said as she dismounted. "Sufiyan, clear the cave. I'll make the rounds."

"Be careful." The words were out of Sirsha's mouth before she could stop them. "Don't do anything rash and give away our position," she added, lest he think she actually cared about his welfare. "In case—in case the Kegari followed us out of Jibaut."

Quil nodded, observing her keenly, and Sirsha squirmed and turned away.

"Are you all right?" Quil asked.

"I'm starving," she snapped. The truth, just not all of it. But he accepted it—to Sirsha's relief. He always looked so hurt when she lied, like a wounded puppy. And for reasons she didn't understand, deceiving him made Sirsha feel awful. Perhaps because of the accursed Adah oath.

When he was out of sight, Sirsha collapsed onto her back, exhausted. "Is he always like this?" she asked. A moment later, Sufiyan and Arelia leaned over her.

"You mean so protective of his friends that he'll double back to make sure they're safe," Arelia said, "even when he's as tired as the rest of us?"

Sufiyan offered Sirsha a wry smile. "You'll learn to appreciate it."

"I wasn't trying to be ungrateful." Sirsha felt small and petty as she sat up. "And I don't need a lecture from a couple of infants."

Sufiyan threw his hands up and walked away, but Arelia looked genuinely confused.

"I'm eighteen," she offered. "Suf is too. We aren't children."

"I didn't mean literally —"

"I realize you have spent much of your life alone," Arelia went on with a kindness one reserved for bumbling animals or aggrieved toddlers. "But surely you learned not to be unkind to those who have only tried to help you?"

With that, she followed Sufiyan to the cave, which was just as well, because Sirsha's face burned in embarrassment. She tried to think of something pithy and biting to say and failed. Out of pique, she used her magic to eavesdrop on them, but they were merely discussing one of Arelia's inventions, and Sirsha felt ridiculous for spying.

She looked out at the dark forest, turning her Adah coin over in her hands. If she'd genuinely chosen Quil as her Adah, it would be a source of comfort, its gold surface intricately patterned to symbolize their vow. She'd be able to sense if he was safe or not, feel the beat of his heart in time with her own.

Instead, the coin was dull, flat, and unpleasantly heavy.

When Quil finally returned, he looked as weary as Sirsha felt, the freckles across his nose stark against blanched skin. He needed rest.

To appear un childish, Sirsha had offered to make dinner. What was left bubbled over a small fire.

"Didn't see any sign of pursuit." Quil spoke quietly, so as not to wake up Arelia and Sufiyan, asleep in the back of the cave. "But you clearly had someone in mind when you mentioned it. Might as well get it out."

Sirsha speared a piece of flatbread and balanced it over the fire to warm it up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Quil's hair fell in his face and she couldn't quite read his expression. "You're not worried your sister followed us? Perhaps because you're tracking the same killer and she's terrible at it? So, it's easier for her to follow you, as you follow the killer?"

Damn him, he was quick.

"Condolences," Sirsha said. "You officially understand my sister's twisted mind." At his expectant expression, Sirsha sighed. She should tell him—he'd figure it out soon enough.

"Yes, she's following us. I can feel her and J'yan. Like a rash in my brain." She considered mentioning that other feeling but decided against it. Quil already thought she was trouble, and for now, she needed the farce of their engagement to keep R'zwana from feeding her to the local avian population. If Quil left her behind, R'z would assume the betrothal was fake, Adah oath notwithstanding, and murder Sirsha in a fit of umbrage.

"Next time, tell me," Quil said, and pulled at the necklace. "This oath coin. Does it…change behavior? Create…ah…emotions or feelings where normally there wouldn't be any?"

"The Adah coin is the seed of a bond." Sirsha wondered what emotions and feelings Quil was referring to. "But we decide how it will grow. It doesn't change our emotions. Only reflects them. Some among the Jaduna are oath-sworn as children and never become more than friends. Their vows are dissolved, eventually. Me and J'yan—we swore our pledge young. When I was—when I left the Cloud Forest, we recanted the vow. It was witnessed by three of our Raanis and our oath coin disappeared."

Sirsha said nothing of the desolation that followed. Of waking up every night after, grasping her throat, feeling as if she couldn't breathe. Jaduna oaths took their toll.

"In normal circumstances," Sirsha said, "the etchings on the coin grow intricate as the Adah learn to trust each other."

"And when that happens, they don't have to be in close proximity anymore?"

His disgust at being her Adah was so obvious that Sirsha wanted to kick him, and then kick herself for caring.

"Yes. There are Jaduna who fulfill contracts, traveling thousands of miles from their Adah. If their bond is strong, it doesn't matter," she said.

Whatever Quil thought about that—about any of it—he didn't say, instead nodding to the stewpot. "I'll clean up. Rest if you like. It's a long road to Ankana."

"What kind of fiancée would I be, letting you keep watch alone?" Sirsha batted her eyelashes at him, gratified at his too-brief smile. When she ladled him a bowl of stew, he looked at it askance.

"If I was going to poison you," Sirsha said, "you'd already be dead." She took a bite before handing it to him so he wouldn't be so wary. "Delicious."

He got a strange look on his face then. A sadness so fleeting that she wished she hadn't noticed. Because noticing was followed immediately by curiosity.

Sirsha did not want to wonder why the crown prince of the Martial Empire was sad.

"Thank you," he said, a bit gruff. It didn't take him long to eat, which Sirsha found satisfying. She'd always loved mixing ingredients to create something that made people smile. Even as a child, she'd taken pride in her roadside fare.

R'zwana mocked her for it, of course.

While Quil went to a nearby spring to wash up, Sirsha stared out into the darkness of the forest, asking the earth to show her where her sister camped. A sense of the terrain around her rose to the surface of her mind. She'd found R'zwana about six miles northeast when Quil returned and sat down in front of her. He glanced at his bracelet again—still on her wrist—and she started pulling it off.

"I should have given it back to you," she said. "I thought it might help me track the killer."

He stayed her hand, and she froze as his fingers—warm despite the chill night—traced the braided leather across her wrist. He shook his head. "If it helps you track, keep it. I brought you something."

He unrolled a wide, thick leaf and dipped his fingers into the orange paste within.

"Made it while I was scouting." His gaze fell on the left side of her face, properly bruised from R'zwana's beating. "That looks painful. This will help. May I?"

Sirsha was fully capable of applying the poultice herself. But she was tired, and he was offering, so she held still as he painted it onto her skin with a gentle touch. Slowly, the pain eased.

"Healing's an unusual pastime for a prince." Sirsha figured it was better to fill the quiet than linger on the way his skin felt against hers.

"Learned it from Suf," Quil said. "He has a knack for it."

The timbre of Quil's voice promised safety, even when he spoke softly. Sirsha wished he'd keep talking.

Don't be a fool. He probably spent years honing that veneer of trustworthiness.

"His mother—Laia of Serra. She's a healer too," Sirsha said. She knew the stories, though she was certain those she'd heard from bored traders at Raider's Roost had been embellished. "And a kedim jadu." Ancient magic , the Jaduna term for those who carried latent powers in their blood. "Did Sufiyan or his siblings inherit the magic?"

Quil shrugged. Sirsha wondered if she'd imagined the slight hesitation before he answered. "I don't think so."

"Your people have such an archaic view of the arcane arts. Even the Tribes. Jaduna trace our bloodlines through magic."

"Martials haven't made a study of it," Quil said. "It's not common in the Empire or Marinn or even the Tribal Lands. My aunt has no idea how hers works. Most Martials don't know she even has it."

Sirsha frowned, scandalized at his ignorance. "All magic has order," she said. "It comes from the same source."

"Mauth. Also known as Death," Quil said. "Sufiyan's grandmother is—"

"The Bani al-Mauth. Chosen of Death," Sirsha said. "All Jaduna know of her. She uses magic too, and like all of us, her magic has rules. We must exert our emotion on an element. We can do this through speech, song, poetry, movements of the body. Some use objects, like a staff."

"What do you use? And what's your element?"

Sirsha hadn't spoken of magic to anyone since she was exiled. Even Kade didn't know exactly what she did.

"I talk to wind, earth, and water," she said, wondering what it was about Quil that made her want to tell him what he asked. "My emotion is usually desire or curiosity. I request help. For the most part, the elements offer it—as long as I tell them what I'm looking for. Sometimes they show me a trail only I can see. Or a warning. Sometimes the image of a place."

"You must be mentally flexible. Open," Quil said. "Maybe that's why you're good at tracking and your sister isn't. The older and more set in her ways she gets, the worse she probably is at it."

Sirsha blinked in surprise. She hadn't considered such a thing.

"The killer also has magic." Sirsha moved on, uncomfortable with how much she'd told him about herself. "She hid her trail. Not easy, but possible for those with particularly powerful mental control. If I knew more about her—"

She stopped herself. She'd shared a great deal already. Too much, perhaps. Trust wasn't wise in her business. If she'd gone it alone at Raider's Roost instead of trusting an adulterous jewel trader, she'd still have her money. If she'd kept her relationship with Kade professional, R'zwana would never have manipulated him into betraying her.

"Stop that," Quil said.

"Stop what?"

"Stop convincing yourself you can't tell me what you're thinking," he said. "I'm not like Kade. Or your sister. I won't betray you or judge you. You don't want to talk about your own magic? Fine, I won't ask again."

Quil had finished with her face and now took her wrists, his long lashes dark smudges against his cheeks as he examined her rope burn in the dim firelight. He worked slowly, methodically, his strong hands easing the paste into her raw skin, massaging the pain away.

"Oh. That feels—" Her whole body relaxed and the sigh that came out of her was halfway to indecent. Quil's pale eyes found hers. Heat bloomed across her skin, slow as a southern sunrise. She wanted to look away, but found she couldn't. His hands stilled and she started to pull back, but he held on to her.

"I'm not done," he said with a note of command that sent a shiver up her spine. Then, after a pause, "You said you needed to know more about the killer?"

"Yes," Sirsha said. "If I knew her emotion and her element, she might be easier to track. Elias said she burns out her victims' hearts with a poker. But that's all I know. Does she torture them first? Is that how they all died?"

"No," Quil said. "It's not."

Earlier that day, Sufiyan had told Sirsha that he and Quil had grown up together. Which meant Quil would know Elias's other son, too. Ruh.

"Could you—could you share anything more about the deaths?" Sirsha said. "How the victims were killed. Whether their bodies were…ah…arranged in a particular way."

Quil released her wrists, finished now, and was silent for so long that Sirsha felt flustered. "I'm sorry," she said after a minute. "I shouldn't have asked."

"The first person the murderer killed was also the first girl I fell in love with." Quil laced his fingers tightly, as if cleaving to something precious. "Her name was Ilar. I'm the one who found what was left of her."