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He was right about that. I took a deep breath, bracing myself against Naji’s thoughts, wishing Jeric would just leave.
“But you’re right. I did steal them. It didn’t take long before the authorities captured me.” He sighed, wistful. “I was sentenced, and here we are. I never once touched the stones directly. I was too afraid. And I never thought I’d have the chance again, until I heard you and the captain speaking about them after you captured my ship. That’s the entire reason I joined with your crew in the first place.”
I stared at him. For once he didn’t look mocking or smug.
“That’s mad,” I said. “Look at Naji! Look at him.” I jabbed my finger at his body, unmoving on the bed. Jeric gazed at him without expression. “You want that to happen, go chase down the Tanarau. I’m surely they’ll be happy to oblige a snakeheart in his suicide attempt.”
“I don’t want that,” Jeric said.
I glared at him. But he didn’t say anything more, just turned and left.
I closed my eyes, relieved to be alone except for Naji. Even though Jeric’s fresh blood was gone, Naji’s thoughts still swirled up with mine, cold and shadowy. I could feel him, distant, indistinct. But alive. Alive.
I curled up beside him on the bed until the thoughts bled away.
On the seventh day, the assassins came.
There were three of them, all dressed the way Naji had been when I first saw him in Lisirra. Black robes, carved armor, swords glittering at their sides. They didn’t cover their faces, though.
“Who are you?” one of them asked in Empire when they walked into the garden house.
“Who the hell are you?” I shot back, even though I recognized their clothes. Still, I grabbed Naji’s cold hand and squeezed it tight.
The first assassin narrowed his eyes at me. He was from the desertlands, like Naji, though he didn’t look like Naji at all. Older and not as handsome and no scar. The other two looked Qilari.
“You aren’t saving him, keeping him here,” the desertlands assassin said. “He needs our magic.”
“And you shouldn’t care if he lives or dies,” one of his companions added.
I didn’t let go.
The desertlands assassin stepped up to me. My breath caught in my throat, and I kept my eye on his sword even though I knew if he wanted to use it I wouldn’t be able to get away. But he didn’t attack me. He kept his movement slow and steady, and put a hand on my forehead like he was feeling for a fever. I jerked away at his touch, but he grabbed me by the arm with his other hand and held me in place.
“You’re scared of me? I’m no different from him.” He leaned in close, looking me in the eye. I didn’t turn away. I bet he could hear my heart.
He dropped his hand, pulled out a knife. I jerked out my own knife and pressed myself against the wall. One of the Qilari assassins laughed.
“This isn’t for you,” the first assassin said.
He picked up Naji’s hand and cut a line down his arm. A thin trace of blood appeared on Naji’s pale skin. I got another rush of thoughts that didn’t belong to me – black-glass deserts and cold cold winds. The assassin glanced at me.
“Don’t worry, little girl. This wound will heal.” Another smile. He dipped his finger in Naji’s blood and then licked the blood away, neat like a cat. He closed his eyes.
“Oh,” he said. “He failed to mention that.”
The Qilari assassins stirred. “Mention what?” one of them asked.
“He blood-bonded.” The first assassin looked over at me, still cowering against the wall like a little ship-rat. “With this one, it seems.”
The Qilari assassins exchanged glances.
“Ah,” one of ’em said. “That explains her u
“My devotion ain’t u
The desertland assassin held up one hand and my voice left my throat and I was filled up with silence. “There’s no need to explain yourself. I know about the curse and the foolishness with your kiss.”
Something heavy landed in my chest. I didn’t say nothing.
“And I know this foolishness was one of the tasks.” The assassin sighed. “He certainly dawdled long enough.”
“What?” I stepped forward, whole body tensed. “What do you mean, dawdled?”
The assassin looked at me. “Ah, the joys of dealing with the uneducated–”
“I know what the fuck the word means. I don’t understand why you–”
“I commanded him to break the curse,” the assassin said. “I thought he did well, managing the first task so easily.” He sneered at me. I sneered back. “Unfortunately, the cause of the first task resulted in him taking too long with the others.”
The sneer disappeared from my face, and the assassin laughed. The cause of the first task? My kiss? I understood what the assassin was implying, but I didn’t believe him. Naji didn’t love me back. This assassin was making fun of me. I was certain of it.
I lifted up my knife and lunged at him.
A blur of shadows and the two Qilaris had me pi
“You knew that wouldn’t work,” he said.
“Get off me!”
He lifted the knife up off my skin by a fraction. “You need to step outside now,” he said. “My associates and I have work to do.”
“Are you go
“A true Jadorr’a welcomes death.”
“I ain’t a Jadorr’a.”
“Yes, but Naji is.” He pressed the flat side of the knife against the left side of my face – the same as Naji’s scar. The metal was cold, colder than ice. “Although I’m not going to kill him. He still has work to do.” He dropped his knife. “Now leave.”
The assassin grabbed my arm and yanked me back, hard enough that my feet lifted off the ground. He put his mouth against my ear. “You shouldn’t care for him so.”
“Let me go, you Empire ass.”
The other two drew their daggers. I stopped struggling.
“Love is a wound,” the assassin said. “Neither life nor death.”
I wanted to tell him to shut up, but I figured I better hold my tongue. He smiled at me, showing all his teeth.
“Whatever you’re thinking, girl,” he said. “Speak. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Love is a wound?” I said. “Sounds like something a killer would say.”
“So you must understand my metaphor well.”
His words slammed into me, and for a moment I faltered, thinking about Tarrin bleeding in the desert. Then I kicked him, hard, in the shin. He laughed and dropped my arm, and the two Qilaris lifted me off my feet and dragged me, kicking and struggling, out of the garden house. I slammed my feet into one of them, right in the hip, before the door swung shut and I landed face-first in the soft grass.
“Are you alright?” The voice was speaking Jokjani. I spit out dirt and looked up. One of the palace soldiers, his eyes wide with fear. “They wouldn’t let me go inside. I tried–”
“Ain’t your fault.”
The soldier pulled me to my feet. I smelled mint.
A few moments passed, and the smell grew stronger, drowning out the rainy scent of the garden. Bright blue light seeped out of the house’s windows. The soldier positioned himself between me and the house, gripping his dagger tight, and I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to do that for me, but I was too tired to try and get the words right. Plus it reminded me of Naji, and I was afraid if I spoke then I would cry.
A chill crept into the air.
I stepped away from the garden house and sat down beneath a banana tree. I kept seeing Naji stretched out on the bed, unmoving. I kept hearing his faint, slow heartbeat. And then the scent of mint flooded through the garden. It plunged me backward in time, till I was facing down Naji that first night, when he could’ve killed me easier than a bug, but he didn’t.
Don’t cry, I told myself. You’re a pirate. Don’t cry.
But I did anyway. The palace guard came and patted me on the shoulder like I was noblewoman crying over a suitor. I snarled at him until he went away.