I weaved between the trees, pushing labored air from my nose. I didn’t bother avoiding the main trail this time, not when fortune had clearly chosen to spit on my efforts tonight. I sprinted up the hill to the keep and circled the garden. Please, please let Marek have left his window open. He had trouble sleeping without a breeze, but it was an unseasonably cold night.
An inch separated the window from its hook. Without stopping to process my relief, I pushed the window the rest of the way in and climbed through the narrow opening as soundlessly as possible. My boots left muddy tracks on his boar-hide rug.
I silently cheered at finding he’d dumped an inebriated Sefa on his bed and fallen asleep on a stack of coats. Trying to wake Sefa without rousing the other girls sharing her room would have grayed my hair. I set the basket aside with shaking hands.
My heart dropped to my feet as I contemplated the sleeping figures. My friendship with these two had happened against my will. I had worked hard to prevent myself from forming any attachment that couldn’t be severed at a moment’s notice. Tonight would change everything. Tonight, I was trusting them.
And if I was wrong, Mahair would be forever lost to me.
I yanked the pillow out from under Sefa’s head. Terrified brown eyes flashed open, relaxing only after registering my hooded face. A kick to Marek’s ankle, and I had a confused, drowsy audience of two.
“How fast can you run?”
CHAPTER THREE
Marek and Sefa stared at the soldier’s body. Ants crawled over the crusted blood on his chin.
Sefa spoke first. “Your knife work is excellent.”
“Sefa!” Marek snapped.
“It is! You work with animals; you know how hard it is to cut so deep and so long into the underbelly. She did it while under attack. It’s impressive.”
“Were you?” Marek said to me. His golden hair stuck out in every direction. “Under attack, I mean?”
They hadn’t asked questions when I dragged them from their beds and forced them to run at full speed into the woods. Even when we passed the line of raven-marked trees, they had plunged after me without a second’s hesitation. I owed them some part of the truth. The pieces I could spare, at least.
“Yes. He would have killed me if I hadn’t killed him. I breached the raven-marked line to collect some ingredients I forgot for Rory, and he would not accept my explanation.” I gestured at his fallen sword. “They’ll put me on trial if I do not mask his death as an accidental fall into Hirun.”
The violence of Nizahl soldiers required little elaboration. Everyone had felt the lash of their terrible power at some point. What my non-Jasadi friends did not need to know was how he accused me of more than merely trespassing. They might feel more sympathy for the soldier if they knew what kind of hand had felled him.
I described my plan, mindful of my race against the dawn. Every instinct rebelled against letting them help. If they made a mistake, it would be my neck. Teamwork, however, was a necessary evil to see this night through.
“Preparing him will not be a delicate affair. If you doubt your tolerance, you can wait behind those trees. I only need your help with carrying his body to the river.”
“This is a bad omen. A bad, bad omen. The Alcalah is only seven weeks away. Isn’t it meant to bring prosperity and good fortune?” Sefa appeared transfixed by the unnatural angle of the soldier’s neck. “What if this means the Awaleen are closer to waking from their slumber?”
“Don’t be a fool.” Marek collected branches to spread over the blood-dampened earth. Impressive forethought. “The Awaleen’s sleep is permanent. If a tournament as bloody and random as the Alcalah could influence the Awaleen, they would have cracked out of their tombs and killed us centuries ago.” Marek scattered the branches with more force than necessary. The mention of the Alcalah must have prodded an old wound. I wondered if Marek had ever joined the legions of competitors vying for a position as their kingdom’s Champion. “Think carefully, Sefa. If the Alcalah or its Champions had the power to bring good fortune, the Supreme would have called it magic and eliminated it after the war. What we are witnessing here is the result of a Nizahl soldier’s hubris.”
Sefa shivered. In our rush, she and Marek had left the keep without any shields against the wind. She looked small and profoundly pathetic. It wouldn’t do—I needed her in action-ready condition.
I shoved my cloak toward her. “Avoid getting it bloody.”
As I moved to the soldier, a hand thrust forward, halting my path.