My worry remained long after their carriage disappeared. I reminded myself that they had been crooks and vagrants before coming to Mahair—they would manage a single night. So long as Sefa didn’t stop to help any whimpering puppies and get herself thrown into the back of a wagon, anyway.
One of Arin’s maps flew onto my foot as the carriage heaved to the right. I peered out the window, watching the wilderness of Essam disappear into smooth land.
The soldiers fanned out around us. The first of three looming black gates appeared. They were impossibly tall, disappearing into the hazy mist rolling beneath the moon. A raven forged from glinting steel took flight from between two clashing swords at the helm of the entrance. Nizahl’s symbol split in two as the gate yawned open. My trepidation spiked as we went through the next two gates, and I held my breath as our carriage glided forward.
The Citadel rose ahead of us in a cylindrical spiral of twisting iron and steel. The blade-like peak impaled the sky, as though punishing the clouds for daring to dwell higher. Several metal legs extended from the middle of the main spire, each connecting to one of the Citadel’s seven menacing wings. A spider of destruction poised to spring. Massive violet and black crests shone at the peak of every wing, the seven ravens’ sinister gazes tracking the reckless as they ventured into the maw of the beast.
“Welcome to Nizahl,” Arin said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I would give Nizahl this: they were much quieter than the other kingdoms.
Since they were the youngest kingdom, and the only one not to have an Awal or Awala to honor, Nizahl’s customs diverged sharply from the others. There were no festivals, no markets, no celebrations. Once a year, Nizahlans gathered to watch the young soldiers advance into the Commander’s army in a special ceremony. They ate game, grains, and bread. They were a strictly hierarchical society, placing a high premium on respect to those above you.
To Nizahlans, Lukubis were depraved, Orbanians animals, and Omalians loud swindlers. They did not see that their kingdom’s sterility was its own danger. Nizahl lived like a predator poised in wait, holding its breath for the right moment to strike.
Jeru accompanied me to Diya’s rooms for supper. Arin had been whisked through the other gates as soon as I left the carriage. “It might interest you to know His Highness the Supreme didn’t invite Vaun into his carriage when he departed from Omal.”
I knocked on Diya’s door. I did not want to think of Dawoud while I stood in his killer’s kingdom. “Good.” I was not foolish enough to believe Supreme Rawain’s suspicion fully laid to rest, but Dawoud’s death had at least cast doubt on the merits of Vaun’s claims.
Our meal was quiet. Diya inspected each bite of food before eating it and stared out the window while she chewed. “I hate birds,” she said. She sliced into the boiled pigeon on her plate. “But I do love to eat them.”
I had grown almost fond of Diya’s belligerent nature. She was a cactus I enjoyed pricking my finger against. I had a notion that Orbanian Fairel would take a great liking to Diya. The young ward had terrible taste in people. “Is that why you keep glaring at the Nizahl crest? Worried one of the ravens will fly down to gobble you up?”
The Orban Champion snapped the pigeon’s wing in two, unamused. “Laugh as you wish. I know you can feel the dark pulse in this land. Those ravens terrify me.” Diya shuddered, pushing aside her plate. “You should beware symbols of power. They have a tendency to create lives of their own.”
Diya evicted me as soon as we finished eating. I walked back to my room between the second and third gates that bracketed the Champions’ suites. A compromise for not allowing Champions to spend the night in the Supreme’s home; we were still protected within the scope of the Citadel’s grounds. I passed khawaga dressed in galabiyas, the brown-and-green garments falling to their sandaled feet. Nizahl soldiers circled my suite, their starched livery at odds with the neighboring Orbanian garb.
Meanwhile, my perennial inability to sleep in new places was in top form tonight.
“I want to go for a walk around the grounds,” I whined. “Who could possibly attack me in the Citadel? I can’t sleep, Jeru.”
A hassled Jeru yanked at the ends of his curly hair. I’d been nagging him for the better part of an hour. “Would it help if I knocked your skull against the door a few times?”
My neck prickled. The soldiers at Jeru’s back bowed, clearing the way for a tall figure to climb the steps.
“That seems ill-advised,” Arin said, startling Jeru so badly the guard choked on his own saliva.
“Sire, I—” Jeru turned the shade of a ripe pomegranate, but Arin waved the guard’s mortification away.
“Get your cloak,” Arin said to me. “I’m going to take the Nizahl Champion for a walk around the Citadel’s grounds.”
Shock flitted across Jeru’s face before he schooled his features. I supposed Arin didn’t make a habit of personally escorting guests around the premises. “Of course, my lord. I’ll alert the soldiers to open the third gate.”
“I assumed you would barricade yourself in your quarters until tomorrow,” I said, pulling on my cloak. Damn it, where had I tossed my boots?
Arin tracked my frenetic movements around the room with vague amusement. There weren’t many places the boots could be. The only decoration in the room was a painting of Supreme Rawain, placed opposite the bed to ensure nightmares all night long. He was depicted leaning on his scepter in one of the Citadel’s chambers.
“You’ve heard the rumors,” Arin sighed.
“That you’re a recluse? Everyone has.” Ah, I’d buried them beneath my bags. If I had a fraction of Arin’s instinct for tidiness, I would lead an entirely different life. “You can admit it. I won’t think less of you. You wish you were alone with your maps and a glass of that horrendous lavender drink, don’t you?”
I turned, boots firmly tied, to find Arin in the middle of carefully folding the only set of clothes I’d unpacked: my outfit for the trial. Something in my chest swelled at the sight. The rumple in his brow as he smoothed the sleeves, the way he angled the stack so I couldn’t miss it. Handling my belongings with the thoughtfulness and care I’d originally confused for severity and uncompromising perfectionism.
When he saw me looking, a red tinge brightened the top of his cheeks. I blinked, and it was gone—a trick of the light, maybe.
“No,” Arin said.
“No?”
“No, I don’t wish I was alone with my maps and my talwith. I am where I want to be.”
Before I could open my mouth, he walked out of the suite. I bundled my cloak tighter against the seasonably cold night and hurried to catch up. I waved at Jeru, who grunted and stomped away. “I am going to miss antagonizing your guards.” The third gate yawned open ahead of us, lined with soldiers on either side. They bowed as we passed.
Despite the tension of tomorrow’s trial, Arin’s demeanor was lighter than usual.
“You’re glad to be home.”