“Suraira is said to be a demon of mishap protecting Sirauk,” he said. “Some Nizahlans believe Suraira dwells beneath the bridge and emerges during a crossing to compel humans to their death.”
I rubbed my arms, stepping over the carcass of a partially eaten rabbit. “Compel?”
Wes sighed, likely wishing he’d chosen sleep over this conversation. “No one is certain what occurs in the crossing. Suraira crafts her victims an image of beauty, decadence, freedom from their woes and burdens. She lures them into willingly leaping off the bridge and into the abyss. Every kingdom has outlandish stories about crossing Sirauk; Suraira is merely one of Nizahl’s. How did you hear the name?”
Apparently, by being likened to a devious demon of mishap by his Heir.
Mist sprayed my face as we crossed the last line of trees. The gush of Hirun had never sung so sweetly. I jogged ahead, abandoning my slippers behind me. The first splash of cool water against my ankles was heaven.
I waded deeper. This river wound through every kingdom, and no one had ever traveled from one end to the other. Of all that had come and gone, Hirun remained unchanged. The only true axis in a land of shifting sands.
“Sylvia!” Jeru shouted. His voice was far away. Water surged around my waist. My feet had carried me farther than I intended.
A ball of tightly packed dirt hit the water and exploded in my face. A lump flew into my mouth. I hacked, pounding my chest, and lost my balance.
Wes and Jeru’s shouts faded as the river catapulted my weightless body along. I flailed, struggling to keep my head above the murky water. A log bobbed ahead, directly in my path. Cheerfully waiting to behead me.
I ducked. Frigid water swept over me. My skirt dragged, pulling me deeper. I kicked it off and pumped my legs. When the river curved, I used the momentum to launch myself toward shore.
Hands reached forward, hauling me onto solid ground. I slapped them aside as soon as my knees were on dry earth and gagged.
“How did you run so quickly?” I rasped. I shoved my dripping hair off my shoulders, shuddering in disgust at the green webs tangled in the strands. “I left you on the opposite bank.”
The pair crouching in front of me were not Wes and Jeru.
“Rovial’s horned heifer,” I groaned. “Are you two determined to die?”
Marek grinned. “We missed you, too.”
I shook my head, shoving aside my glee at the sight of my two favorite fools. “A whiff of sense, a drop. That’s all I ask. If the guards find you—”
“They won’t,” Sefa reassured. “Unless you plan on lounging for much longer.”
Belatedly, I remembered my legs were covered only by the thin white shift I’d worn beneath my skirt. My hair fell from its braid, hanging in wet waves around me.
“Did you plan this?” Neither Marek nor Sefa attempted to touch me again, a gesture I appreciated now more than ever.
“We’ve been searching for you since the waleema,” Marek said.
Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach at the mention of that accursed celebration. A name knocked against my skull, politely asking to be let out.
“Fairel. Is—did she—how is she?” I didn’t notice my hand had found my heart. I counted the beats in my head, my body strung tight like it was anticipating a blow.
“She is still recovering,” Sefa said, and I almost keeled over in relief before she finished her sentence. She is. Fairel still existed, still lived, and the rest were details.
“She and Rory are going to have matching canes,” Marek said. “She misses you, but she is excited to know a Champion.”
I shook my head, a fond smile on my lips. Maybe she would finally stop revering the Champions when she remembered she’d seen one of them shove burned bread into her dress to hide it from Raya.
Murky liquid dribbled down the nape of my neck. I squeezed mud from my hair and paused. “Wait, did you throw those damned dirt balls?”
“The dirt was necessary to get your attention, since those two guards never left your side. I didn’t expect my aim to be so excellent.” Sefa prodded me with the end of her walking stick. “Walk and complain, come on.”
I slapped the stick aside. “I can’t leave.”
“They won’t find you, Sylvia,” Marek said, and the ferocity of his conviction startled me. “We’re going to protect you.”
I studied Marek’s combative stance, Sefa’s wary surveillance of the other bank. Oh dear. A fundamental misunderstanding had occurred somewhere between the waleema and now. Had they really spent the last few weeks searching for me?