When he saw me looking, a red tinge brightened the top of his cheeks. I blinked, and it was gone—a trick of the light, maybe.
“No,” Arin said.
“No?”
“No, I don’t wish I was alone with my maps and my talwith. I am where I want to be.”
Before I could open my mouth, he walked out of the suite. I bundled my cloak tighter against the seasonably cold night and hurried to catch up. I waved at Jeru, who grunted and stomped away. “I am going to miss antagonizing your guards.” The third gate yawned open ahead of us, lined with soldiers on either side. They bowed as we passed.
Despite the tension of tomorrow’s trial, Arin’s demeanor was lighter than usual.
“You’re glad to be home.”
A strand of hair caught on the edge of his smile. “I am.”
This close to the Citadel, I understood what Diya meant about the dark pulse. The halls connecting the main spire to the wings were rectangular and narrow, running high over our heads like open-air tunnels. Even the wind rustling through the grass seemed to whisper warnings I couldn’t make out. Every facet of the Citadel’s grounds was petrifying.
“The Victor’s Ball will be held in this wing.” Arin pointed. “The one behind it is for assemblies with the Supreme’s counselors.”
I struggled to suppress my laugh. Though not readily apparent to most, Arin was in a good mood. He was speaking easily, and the tight line between his shoulders and neck had fractionally loosened. It was a shame what brought him comfort had the opposite effect on me.
“What about that one?” I pointed to the wing behind the Citadel. The only one without a raven rising from between the two swords.
“The war wing,” Arin answered. Some of the tension returned to his features. “It has not been entered since the siege. When we need to intervene to settle disputes between the kingdoms, we use the third wing.”
I frowned, a question on the tip of my tongue. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to use the war wing for regional disputes if the goal was to efficiently arbitrate? What faster motivator could there be for squabbling kingdoms to settle than the prospect of war?
“Your nimwa system,” I realized. We walked past the Citadel, and I was glad to have the Supreme’s home out of my sight. Identical rows of short, square metal buildings studded the road ahead. The soldiers milling around bowed deeply at the sight of their Commander. “If Nizahl enters a state of active war, mandatory conscription takes effect again. The lower villages will need to send their children to the Citadel.”
Arin looked at me sharply. “How do you know about the nimwa system?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Why does it matter how I know? I think it is a wonderful system you’ve created.”
To my unadulterated delight, Arin scowled at the praise. By Sirauk’s cursed depths, the Nizahl Heir was flustered. “It can hardly be called a system.”
I counted on my fingers. “You give every family in the lower villages an allotment of grains, oats, potatoes, and rice. The more members of a family, the higher the allotment. A youth supporting their family is exempted from conscription, and if there are several eligible children in a single household, the age to join is raised to twenty. Which, of course, essentially means everyone in the lower villages is exempt.”
Arin pursed his lips. “Wes.”
I brushed his arm as we walked past the first of the metal buildings. “You care about your people, Arin. That is not a quality to be embarrassed about.” The statement felt like a confession, meant for whispering in the lonely dark. “You will be an excellent Supreme one day.”
At Arin’s silence, I glanced up to find him staring at me, an indecipherable look in his eyes. My fingers curled in the pockets of my cloak, fighting the asinine urge to reach for him. I wanted to laugh, avert my gaze, anything to defuse the pressure. If I let it settle, if I looked at it too closely, the fragile stage upon which we circled might crumble.
“I am glad to hear you speak my name outside of imminent danger,” Arin said softly, and the battle was lost.
Idiot! Hanim howled. How many ways can you betray us, Essiya?
It didn’t feel like betrayal. It felt like wandering through the woods for an endless night and finally stumbling into the dawn.
It was the feeling I had at the sight of Mahair after hours of catching frogs by the moonlight. The rush of Hirun around me. Fairel’s giggle and the click of Rory’s cane. Anchors, real and solid, pinning me to earth.