The world swayed. My fingers strained around the branch. I could no longer keep the darkness at bay.
“I believe you,” I slurred.
My last recollection before my hand slackened and my body dropped was of the Nizahl Heir running, sliding in the mud trail, and the collision of our bodies over the edge of the cliff.
ARIN
He was alive. Bleeding quite profusely, but alive.
Good. His calculations hadn’t failed him.
Arin exhaled, rolling his shoulders with a wince. The river lapped at his legs. The Jasadi lay unmoving against him. He had caught her at a precise angle, using the curve of the riverbank to slide to the rocks instead of tumbling straight down.
The moon spared little light to see her with. Arin turned to the side, laying her inside a shallow puddle. Still no movement. Water lapped against the boulders, lifting her hair into a cloud of black curls circling her face. Combined with the deathly pallor of her skin, the effect pricked a rare bead of disquiet in the Nizahl Heir.
Blood spread in the river from the wounds in her arm and leg. She wasn’t healing.
Nothing could be easy with her. The possibility of her magic not healing her on its own had occurred to him, but he had hoped he was wrong. Arin pulled off his gloves and hesitated. The last time he brushed against her magic, it had consumed him. The utter loss of control was not a memory he would soon forget.
Her chest was barely rising. If she died, he would lose his best chance to lure the Mufsids and Urabi to the Alcalah.
Sharp rocks dug into Arin’s knees as he loomed over the girl. With no small amount of distaste, he grasped the Jasadi’s hands. If she were awake, he had no doubt she’d claw his palms raw. She had the temperament of a deranged goose. Every interaction he’d shared with her had thoroughly convinced him he was not dealing with a stable woman.
The hunger seized him as soon as their hands touched. Howling through Arin, digging into him with a thousand whittling blades. His teeth cut his bottom lip open.
Her magic—it was strong. Too strong. He should have guessed as soon as he touched her in the Relic Room that something about her magic was amiss. Nobody could have hidden power of this caliber from a nosy village of Omalians. Not unless a separate force prevented her magic’s expression. It mystified him, and he loathed being mystified.
The torn edges of her skin reached for each other. Watching her wounds knit shut amazed him no less the second time. Her magic roiled beneath his touch. As soon as the color returned to her skin, Arin dropped her hands, exhaling harshly. Leashed violence shuddered through him, filling his mouth with rust. Her magic’s influence. Arin took no satisfaction in brutality for its own sake, nor did primal impulses typically succeed in overwhelming him. This bloodthirst was a product of her magic. He did not know how, but he intended to find out.
“Sire? Are you here?” Jeru’s call barely rose above the river’s babbling.
The river pulled at the Jasadi, eager to whisk her away. Arin caught her arm and immediately recoiled. She’d torn the sleeves off her tunic? Fleeing into Essam Woods under the siege of winter, arms bared to the elements, was a superbly efficient way to end her time among the living. Arin grabbed a fistful of the fabric at her collar and dragged her to the rocks beside him.
“Are you a donkey’s bastard? If the Jasadis are near and hear you calling for your Commander, they will make finding him first their priority.” Vaun’s incensed voice was much more distinguishable.
“You don’t think the riderless horse may have already alerted them?”
“Look. There is blood on this tree.” Ren.
It did not take them long to spot Arin and the Jasadi at the bottom of the riverbank. To his guards’ credit, they hid their reaction to the bizarre sight of Arin pinning the unconscious Jasadi with a grip on her collar. Jeru skidded down the slope, a rope fastened around his middle. Shock finally flickered over his face at the full tableau waiting by the river. “My liege, you’re injured.”
“Nothing is broken or severed. Take the girl and send her back to the tunnels with Ren immediately.”
Jeru obeyed, bending to scoop the Jasadi into his arms. As soon as he lifted her, she began to writhe.
“No, no!” she shrieked. Her eyes moved rapidly behind her closed lids, chasing invisible threats. “Do not touch me. Don’t!”
Jeru struggled to hold her. She spilled out of his arms. Jeru only barely prevented her from dashing her head against the rocks. “Should we tie a rope around her?” Jeru asked desperately. She’d splashed him to the knees.