“I—” Quil raked a hand through his rain-soaked hair, looking from a wide-eyed Arelia to Sufiyan, grimacing in sympathy. “You know who I am,” he finally said to Sirsha. “I can’t be saddled with—with—”

  With a tracker who is far too intriguing to be good for me. He didn’t say it, but from Sirsha’s expression, it was clear she assumed the worst.

  “I didn’t ask to be rescued, mighty prince,” she snarled. “Especially not by a fiancé. You saved my life but dragged me into yours in the process. I didn’t want to say the words of fidelity. But it’s done, so unless you want to enjoy the pain and suffering that comes with trying to outwit a Jaduna oath coin, you’re stuck with me until we can find a Raani to break the link between us.”

  Relief swept through Quil. “It’s not forever, then,” he said. “We can break it.”

  “Yes.” Sirsha rolled her eyes. “Eventually. And the longer we spend together, the farther apart we can get without causing ourselves any misery. For now, I’ll come with you. Don’t look so horrified. I’m good with a knife. I know the Southern Continent better than any of you. And I know someone who can help us get out of Jibaut. If we ever stop talking long enough to leave this alley.”

  As Quil studied her, his instinct tingled. The desire to use his magic, to understand her through her thoughts and memories, felt as powerful as the need to breathe when trapped underwater. He half lifted his hand, ready to touch her, to give in.

  And then he remembered he’d be taking—stealing like a low criminal—and forced the magic to the back of his mind.

  “You’re hiding something,” he said.

  “I’m hiding many things, prince,” she said. “Now that we’re affianced, you’ll learn all about them, I’m sure.” Sirsha ran a finger down his chest, dark eyes fathomless as she looked up at him. Her pine-and-sky scent filled his senses and her gaze dropped to his lips.

  For a moment, she was all he could see. Then she smiled and he remembered who he was dealing with.

  “I hear another patrol coming.” She shifted back to look at Sufiyan and Arelia. “You want to get out of here, right? Follow me.”

  * * *

  Kade was not happy to see Sirsha. Perhaps because she had a knife to his throat. Or because Sirsha had punched him in the face about three seconds after breaking into his house—something Quil was sure he found as satisfying as she did.

  Now, wild-eyed and panicked, Kade looked around the room as if for an escape. Quil took in the high windows, velvet settees, and intricately carved tables covered in rare books and scrolls. Pretty. But poorly designed for a quick exit, unless Kade wanted to defenestrate himself. Quil wasn’t inclined to stop him if he tried.

  “You’re going to procure horses and supplies for me and my friends,” Sirsha informed Kade. “You’ll do it without making a fuss, or I’ll hold your eyelids open as Reli here burns your life’s work to cinders.”

  Kade released a short, panicked bark of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I’d do worse,” Sirsha said, “if I wasn’t in such a hurry. Walk.”

  Kade stood, hands up. “Friends.” He laughed. “I thought you said they were a pack of infernal Martials who probably wouldn’t last the week.”

  Quil glanced at Sufiyan, who shrugged. The prince could tell Sirsha wanted to lie and deny it, as the infernal Martials were now essential to her survival. But, to her credit, she just lifted her chin.

  “Horses, Kade.” She tightened the knife against his neck. “Now.”

  Kade nodded and slunk ahead of them down the stairs, out a back gate and to a large stable. Sirsha whistled in appreciation as she took in the wealth of horseflesh. There were a dozen beasts here as fine as any mount a Mask might ride.

  “You posh bastard,” she said as Sufiyan and Arelia saddled the horses. “You don’t need money. What the hells did my sister offer you that you’d betray a friend for it?”

  “Get that away from me.” Kade glared at her dagger. “I don’t want you to trip and accidentally stab me.”

  “If I stab you, it won’t be accidental.”

  She was trying to sound snide, but Quil could tell from the stiffness of her shoulders and the set of her jaw that Kade’s betrayal had wounded her.

  Which made Quil want to stick a knife in the pirate himself.

  “Why betray me?” Sirsha asked Kade quietly, as if she’d forgotten Quil was a few feet away. “You know what my family did to me. I’d never have double-crossed you.”

  Kade looked down at his hands, ink-stained and scarred. “This…murderer,” he said. “The one you’re searching for. You don’t know, Sirsha—you don’t understand how—how awful she is.”

  Quil’s gaze shot to Sirsha. She? The Jaduna hadn’t shared that fact in all their days at sea.

  “You’ve never taken an interest in my jobs before,” Sirsha said. “Why now?”

  “Because you’re my friend,” Kade said, and at Sirsha’s scoff he sighed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Is that why you sold me to my sister?” Sirsha said. “She was going to kill me, Kade. By drowning me and then leaving my body for the gulls’ dinner. You’d have passed by your friend any time you went to the docks for the next three months!”

  “You think you understand what you’re dealing with. But you don’t. You—” Kade went strangely pale then, the color of frozen milk. “I can’t—” He turned away from her. Sirsha eased back, so surprised at his distress that she likely didn’t see the point in threatening him. “I can’t say more,” he said. “Don’t ask. Please—be careful.”

  “Ready,” Sufiyan said. “Let’s move.”

  Sirsha grabbed a length of rope from one of the hooks in the barn and tossed it to Quil. As he caught it, something occurred to him.

  “You know this city,” Quil said to Kade. “What do you know about the Kegari reserve forces?”

  “Lose the ropes and I’ll tell you.”

  Quil put his scim to Kade’s stomach. “One more word that’s not useful, and I’ll gut you.”

  “They’ve got five thousand soldiers south of the city.” Kade glanced down nervously at the scim. “Fifty Sails. They’ll be doing sweeps, looking for you.”

  Quil nodded and dropped the rope, glancing back at Sirsha. “If he’s tied up, they’ll suspect we were here.”

  “Put them off our trail, Kade.” Sirsha mounted her mare. “It’s the least you can do.”

  Kade nodded. “I will. And I swear I won’t tell your sister anything.” His lips tightened. “She doesn’t keep her promises anyway.”

  “What did she promise you?” Sirsha asked. “What did you need from her, Kade?”

  “Sirsha.” Quil glanced outside. They’d tarried too long. “It’ll be dawn in an hour. If we want to get out of here without the Kegari seeing us, we need to leave.”

  Kade looked at Quil as if seeing him for the first time. “The Kegari are the least of your worries.” He nodded to Sirsha. “Especially if you’re with her.”

  21

  Sirsha

  By the time the sun rose, Sirsha had led the group deep into the Devanese woods southwest of Jibaut. When the port city was out of sight, she suggested they slow down, but Quil drove them on, clearing their path through the undergrowth and casting glances above, lest a Kegari scout spot them through the canopy of trees.

  The powerful Kegari soldier—whoever he was—had seen and identified Quil. The sky-rats would be looking for him everywhere.

  To make matters worse, Sirsha felt uneasy. Unpleasantly so. Perhaps it was R’zwana’s slimy presence. Sirsha kept it from the others, but she knew R’z would follow her. They were hunting the same quarry, and Sirsha was the better tracker. R’z wouldn’t risk letting Sirsha get too far ahead.

  She shuddered at the memory of R’z’s vengeful face. Though they’d always had a troubled relationship, R’zwana appeared to have disintegrated into the worst version of herself.

  But the shadow in Sirsha’s mind—it didn’t feel like R’z. It felt like something else was stalking her. Every time Sirsha tried to track it, it disappeared.

  They finally stopped well after sunset. When Sirsha spotted a cave she knew of, she refused to go farther.

  “The horses need rest.” She glared at Quil, who looked longingly at the path ahead. “And I’m starving.”

  She was cranky, true, but less because she was hungry and more because the killer’s trail was faint now. With every mile in the wrong direction, Elias’s oath coin burned hotter, as if to remind Sirsha that she wasn’t carrying out her end of the bargain with him.

  For now, it would only burn. But in time, the mission would supplant every other need, to the detriment of herself and everyone around her.

  She’d worry about that when it happened. Right now, she needed food and sleep.

  “Fine,” Quil said as she dismounted. “Sufiyan, clear the cave. I’ll make the rounds.”

  “Be careful.” The words were out of Sirsha’s mouth before she could stop them. “Don’t do anything rash and give away our position,” she added, lest he think she actually cared about his welfare. “In case—in case the Kegari followed us out of Jibaut.”

  Quil nodded, observing her keenly, and Sirsha squirmed and turned away.

  “Are you all right?” Quil asked.

  “I’m starving,” she snapped. The truth, just not all of it. But he accepted it—to Sirsha’s relief. He always looked so hurt when she lied, like a wounded puppy. And for reasons she didn’t understand, deceiving him made Sirsha feel awful. Perhaps because of the accursed Adah oath.

  When he was out of sight, Sirsha collapsed onto her back, exhausted. “Is he always like this?” she asked. A moment later, Sufiyan and Arelia leaned over her.

  “You mean so protective of his friends that he’ll double back to make sure they’re safe,” Arelia said, “even when he’s as tired as the rest of us?”

  Sufiyan offered Sirsha a wry smile. “You’ll learn to appreciate it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be ungrateful.” Sirsha felt small and petty as she sat up. “And I don’t need a lecture from a couple of infants.”

  Sufiyan threw his hands up and walked away, but Arelia looked genuinely confused.

  “I’m eighteen,” she offered. “Suf is too. We aren’t children.”

  “I didn’t mean literally—”

  “I realize you have spent much of your life alone,” Arelia went on with a kindness one reserved for bumbling animals or aggrieved toddlers. “But surely you learned not to be unkind to those who have only tried to help you?”

  With that, she followed Sufiyan to the cave, which was just as well, because Sirsha’s face burned in embarrassment. She tried to think of something pithy and biting to say and failed. Out of pique, she used her magic to eavesdrop on them, but they were merely discussing one of Arelia’s inventions, and Sirsha felt ridiculous for spying.

  She looked out at the dark forest, turning her Adah coin over in her hands. If she’d genuinely chosen Quil as her Adah, it would be a source of comfort, its gold surface intricately patterned to symbolize their vow. She’d be able to sense if he was safe or not, feel the beat of his heart in time with her own.

  Instead, the coin was dull, flat, and unpleasantly heavy.

  When Quil finally returned, he looked as weary as Sirsha felt, the freckles across his nose stark against blanched skin. He needed rest.

  To appear unchildish, Sirsha had offered to make dinner. What was left bubbled over a small fire.

  “Didn’t see any sign of pursuit.” Quil spoke quietly, so as not to wake up Arelia and Sufiyan, asleep in the back of the cave. “But you clearly had someone in mind when you mentioned it. Might as well get it out.”

  Sirsha speared a piece of flatbread and balanced it over the fire to warm it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Quil’s hair fell in his face and she couldn’t quite read his expression. “You’re not worried your sister followed us? Perhaps because you’re tracking the same killer and she’s terrible at it? So, it’s easier for her to follow you, as you follow the killer?”

  Damn him, he was quick.

  “Condolences,” Sirsha said. “You officially understand my sister’s twisted mind.” At his expectant expression, Sirsha sighed. She should tell him—he’d figure it out soon enough.

  “Yes, she’s following us. I can feel her and J’yan. Like a rash in my brain.” She considered mentioning that other feeling but decided against it. Quil already thought she was trouble, and for now, she needed the farce of their engagement to keep R’zwana from feeding her to the local avian population. If Quil left her behind, R’z would assume the betrothal was fake, Adah oath notwithstanding, and murder Sirsha in a fit of umbrage.

  “Next time, tell me,” Quil said, and pulled at the necklace. “This oath coin. Does it…change behavior? Create…ah…emotions or feelings where normally there wouldn’t be any?”

  “The Adah coin is the seed of a bond.” Sirsha wondered what emotions and feelings Quil was referring to. “But we decide how it will grow. It doesn’t change our emotions. Only reflects them. Some among the Jaduna are oath-sworn as children and never become more than friends. Their vows are dissolved, eventually. Me and J’yan—we swore our pledge young. When I was—when I left the Cloud Forest, we recanted the vow. It was witnessed by three of our Raanis and our oath coin disappeared.”

  Sirsha said nothing of the desolation that followed. Of waking up every night after, grasping her throat, feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. Jaduna oaths took their toll.

  “In normal circumstances,” Sirsha said, “the etchings on the coin grow intricate as the Adah learn to trust each other.”

  “And when that happens, they don’t have to be in close proximity anymore?”

  His disgust at being her Adah was so obvious that Sirsha wanted to kick him, and then kick herself for caring.

  “Yes. There are Jaduna who fulfill contracts, traveling thousands of miles from their Adah. If their bond is strong, it doesn’t matter,” she said.

  Whatever Quil thought about that—about any of it—he didn’t say, instead nodding to the stewpot. “I’ll clean up. Rest if you like. It’s a long road to Ankana.”

  “What kind of fiancée would I be, letting you keep watch alone?” Sirsha batted her eyelashes at him, gratified at his too-brief smile. When she ladled him a bowl of stew, he looked at it askance.

  “If I was going to poison you,” Sirsha said, “you’d already be dead.” She took a bite before handing it to him so he wouldn’t be so wary. “Delicious.”

  He got a strange look on his face then. A sadness so fleeting that she wished she hadn’t noticed. Because noticing was followed immediately by curiosity.

  Sirsha did not want to wonder why the crown prince of the Martial Empire was sad.

  “Thank you,” he said, a bit gruff. It didn’t take him long to eat, which Sirsha found satisfying. She’d always loved mixing ingredients to create something that made people smile. Even as a child, she’d taken pride in her roadside fare.

  R’zwana mocked her for it, of course.

  While Quil went to a nearby spring to wash up, Sirsha stared out into the darkness of the forest, asking the earth to show her where her sister camped. A sense of the terrain around her rose to the surface of her mind. She’d found R’zwana about six miles northeast when Quil returned and sat down in front of her. He glanced at his bracelet again—still on her wrist—and she started pulling it off.

  “I should have given it back to you,” she said. “I thought it might help me track the killer.”

  He stayed her hand, and she froze as his fingers—warm despite the chill night—traced the braided leather across her wrist. He shook his head. “If it helps you track, keep it. I brought you something.”

  He unrolled a wide, thick leaf and dipped his fingers into the orange paste within.

  “Made it while I was scouting.” His gaze fell on the left side of her face, properly bruised from R’zwana’s beating. “That looks painful. This will help. May I?”

  Sirsha was fully capable of applying the poultice herself. But she was tired, and he was offering, so she held still as he painted it onto her skin with a gentle touch. Slowly, the pain eased.

  “Healing’s an unusual pastime for a prince.” Sirsha figured it was better to fill the quiet than linger on the way his skin felt against hers.

  “Learned it from Suf,” Quil said. “He has a knack for it.”

  The timbre of Quil’s voice promised safety, even when he spoke softly. Sirsha wished he’d keep talking.

  Don’t be a fool. He probably spent years honing that veneer of trustworthiness.

  “His mother—Laia of Serra. She’s a healer too,” Sirsha said. She knew the stories, though she was certain those she’d heard from bored traders at Raider’s Roost had been embellished. “And a kedim jadu.” Ancient magic, the Jaduna term for those who carried latent powers in their blood. “Did Sufiyan or his siblings inherit the magic?”

  Quil shrugged. Sirsha wondered if she’d imagined the slight hesitation before he answered. “I don’t think so.”

  “Your people have such an archaic view of the arcane arts. Even the Tribes. Jaduna trace our bloodlines through magic.”

  “Martials haven’t made a study of it,” Quil said. “It’s not common in the Empire or Marinn or even the Tribal Lands. My aunt has no idea how hers works. Most Martials don’t know she even has it.”

  Sirsha frowned, scandalized at his ignorance. “All magic has order,” she said. “It comes from the same source.”