She chuckled. “So we all thought. We cannot fathom how you remained hidden for so long, but you need not fear anymore. We have come to help you reclaim the throne that was taken from you.”
Denial was a doomed route. She would have already knocked me out without the grace of a conversation if she didn’t know who I was. “Do you belong to the Mufsids or Urabi?”
She stepped delicately around a pile of munban nests. The colors of magic continued to seethe in her eyes, holding Jeru in the river. The strength of her magic, her clothing, her demeanor. I had grown up around power like hers. She had to be from the first or second wilayah.
Her nose wrinkled. “I have no association with the brigade of cowards who call themselves Urabi.”
I wanted to pound my head against the tree. She belonged to the Mufsids. The Jasadi group Arin claimed left more dead Jasadi bodies in their wake than his soldiers.
“How did you find me?”
She stepped closer. I reached into my pocket, only to feel the lines of it sew themselves shut. The Mufsid wagged her finger. “I come in peace, Mawlati. I suggest you receive me in peace, as well.”
“You are drowning the guard.”
“No, not at all. Drowning would be too quick. I prefer to watch them choke over some time.” She dabbed at her glistening forehead. The magic was taking its toll.
Jasadi magic is not a bottomless well. Every Jasadi has a finite supply from which to draw.
I had to keep her occupied until she ran through her magic. By the time it replenished, I would be long gone.
“I have no desire to join the Mufsids. You kill Jasadis.”
The Mufsid gave me a look like I had just declared I dined on rat nails. “Yet you would align yourself with the Nizahl Heir?” She shook her head, raising an apologetic hand. “Forgive me, Mawlati. We know you are under duress and do not plan to complete the Alcalah as his Champion. I have come to take you. Our leaders are most eager to make your acquaintance.”
I circled through a dozen approaches and came away empty. I couldn’t exactly explain I intended to betray them to the Nizahl Heir. “If you wish to recruit me, why did you attack me with the specter of a dead woman?” The rotting corpse of Hanim looming over me still haunted my dreams.
Her thick brows pulled together. “We did no such thing. We would never. The Mufsids do not hide like the Urabi. Once we choose a path, we do not shy from it.”
I swallowed. Jeru’s thrashing had taken a turn for the worse, dwindling to lethargic writhing. He might not outlast this Mufsid’s magic.
I studied her. In a way, I felt an echo of kinship with this Jasadi. We shared a mutual loss. A scar on our souls in the shape of our scorched home. “Why are you killing Jasadis?”
The sunlight caught the lighter strands in her brown hair. The gold and silver had slowed to a churn as her magic depleted from the effort of holding Jeru. “We are trying to save Jasadis. But some of our people believe it is better to hide, to live a life under another’s control, than to stand up and reclaim what they took from us. We cannot allow those Jasadis to be weaponized against our movement.”
“Why do you get to make that choice for them?” I shook my head. “And how do I factor into any of these plans?”
Brown had almost entirely replaced the other colors in her eyes. Soon, Jeru would be freed from the clasp of her power. He might hear this conversation. Hear her call me Mawlati.
Or she would kill him. Probably kill him.
“Are you not Essiya, once Heir of Jasad? Daughter of Niphran, granddaughter of Malik Niyar and Malika Palia? You were born to lead us. To fight at our helm.”
Rust filled my mouth. I wanted to join Jeru in the river.
Tell her the truth. Tell her you are spineless and pathetic, that you believe you do not owe your kingdom your life, Hanim said.
“How did you know I was alive?”
Her annoyance grew with each question. It wouldn’t be long before her patience reached its limit. “A new recruit decided to try a locating spell and discovered Qayida Hanim’s body. We hadn’t been able to track her since her exile. Whatever warding she used to prevent us from finding her collapsed when she died. They were insistent on investigating. Despite our misgivings, we agreed and spent the next year trying to track your magic, but it was like trying to catch a grain of sand in a storm. We finally found that horrible little Omalian village a month ago, but unfortunately, the information had leaked to the Urabi that we believed the Jasad Heir to be alive.
“Not everyone was pleased about the idea of recruiting you to our cause,” she continued. “There was strong dissent in our ranks. Some who rightfully believe reinstating anyone raised within the corrupt walls of Usr Jasad flies in the face of our mission. They wanted to find you and kill you. But we believe your name—and most importantly, your magic—will serve a greater purpose than anyone realizes.”