Sleep wouldn’t come. My magic was active, its pressure against my cuffs unpleasant but bearable. It thought we were still fighting, but this kind of fight wasn’t one where a sword would help. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing death: my family, Dawoud, Soraya, even Adel and Mervat Rayan.
Loss was an anchor I would always drag behind me. If I stopped moving, if I let the anchor catch, I would never summon the strength to keep going. I was not kind. I did not choose right over wrong or my heart over my head. But I was tenacious. I was spiteful. I had cultivated these lesser traits, fed them every morsel I could spare, because someone good would not have survived Hanim. Someone good would have died as miserably as Adel. But once I stopped needing to survive, what would be left? What if the worst parts of me had already cannibalized the best?
I slept poorly and woke a few hours before dawn feeling inclined to find Vaun and finish what I started. Perhaps the guards could predict my bloodlust, because it was Sefa and Marek at my door the next morning. They helped me pack the room while they chattered about nothing. I appreciated it—allowing me a signal to fix and focus on while I rebuilt the walls I’d damaged last night.
“Sylvia?” Marek reached for my shoulder and thought better of it. I hadn’t moved in over ten minutes. “Do you want us to leave you alone?”
“No. No, stay.” I swallowed and tentatively patted Marek’s arm. He held himself stiller than a man luring a rare bird to his palm. Despite his hotheadedness, Marek always knew which moments demanded a gentler hand. Being raised by a Nizahlan military legacy family hadn’t turned him into someone harsh and uncompromising, and I admired him for it.
As I stared at Marek, an intriguing prospect occurred to me. I’d allowed Arin’s tirade about Jasad to quietly fester. I had nobody reliable to recount the events around the war, but here stood two people who had grown up close to the heart of Nizahlan politics. Two people I trusted as much as I could trust anyone.
“What did people say about Jasad before the war?” I asked Sefa.
Sefa finished packing her sewing materials under a protective layer of skirts. She didn’t seem perturbed by the question. “About Jasad in general?”
I had to tread carefully. “The Malik and Malika, royal politics, the nature of their rule. That sort of talk.” I glanced at Marek. “Either of you.”
“I can’t recall specific sayings, honestly. Most of what I remember is resentment,” Sefa said. “So much resentment. One winter, the frost came too early and caused most of the farms to bloom before anyone was prepared for harvest. An unbelievable amount of food went to waste, rotted from disease or the cold. It was a lean winter. No kingdom was spared from struggling… except Jasad. The previous Sultana swallowed her pride and reached out to the Malik and Malika for help, and they refused her.”
I had braced myself for such a conclusion, but it still brought a grimace to my face. I reminded myself that unkindness did not necessarily translate to corruption.
Sefa wasn’t finished. “Ten days later, Lukub’s northeast mountain borders were attacked. Jasadi forces raided the stores of Lukub’s precious metals and stole their entire supply of silver and copper. The Sultana couldn’t retaliate. Their armies were withering, and—”
“The fortress,” Marek finished. “The fortress was a topic at our dinner table almost nightly.”
A queasy unease had settled in my stomach. I was still caught on the raid on Lukub. Why would they do that? They had had plenty of silver and copper in Jasad; they hardly needed to steal it. Nothing in my life had ever been as stable as my notions of Jasad. So many cracks had begun to splinter through the image of Usr Jasad and my grandparents, and I could feel myself growing defensive in preparation for the shatter.
“Your family served the Supreme. Of course they spoke often of the biggest obstacle to invasion.”
“Everyone talked about the fortress, Sylvia,” Marek said, a little coldly. “It allowed Jasad to get away with doing whatever it wanted. I understand you hate what Nizahl has become. I do, too. But it is the only kingdom created at the will of three Awaleen. Its most basic function was to protect against the tyrannies of magic and power after Rovial’s madness. Nobody could have replicated Jasad’s fortress, not even when each kingdom still carried magic. They were insulated from the consequences of their actions, and Nizahl couldn’t do anything about it.”
My pulse pounded in my head. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked Nizahlans to refute the word of the Commander. They thought all magic was inherently unfair. “What a relief it must be for Nizahl to finally achieve their full purpose,” I said, unable to prevent the hurt seeping into my tone. “They have certainly balanced the scales.”