A strand of hair caught on the edge of his smile. “I am.”
This close to the Citadel, I understood what Diya meant about the dark pulse. The halls connecting the main spire to the wings were rectangular and narrow, running high over our heads like open-air tunnels. Even the wind rustling through the grass seemed to whisper warnings I couldn’t make out. Every facet of the Citadel’s grounds was petrifying.
“The Victor’s Ball will be held in this wing.” Arin pointed. “The one behind it is for assemblies with the Supreme’s counselors.”
I struggled to suppress my laugh. Though not readily apparent to most, Arin was in a good mood. He was speaking easily, and the tight line between his shoulders and neck had fractionally loosened. It was a shame what brought him comfort had the opposite effect on me.
“What about that one?” I pointed to the wing behind the Citadel. The only one without a raven rising from between the two swords.
“The war wing,” Arin answered. Some of the tension returned to his features. “It has not been entered since the siege. When we need to intervene to settle disputes between the kingdoms, we use the third wing.”
I frowned, a question on the tip of my tongue. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to use the war wing for regional disputes if the goal was to efficiently arbitrate? What faster motivator could there be for squabbling kingdoms to settle than the prospect of war?
“Your nimwa system,” I realized. We walked past the Citadel, and I was glad to have the Supreme’s home out of my sight. Identical rows of short, square metal buildings studded the road ahead. The soldiers milling around bowed deeply at the sight of their Commander. “If Nizahl enters a state of active war, mandatory conscription takes effect again. The lower villages will need to send their children to the Citadel.”
Arin looked at me sharply. “How do you know about the nimwa system?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Why does it matter how I know? I think it is a wonderful system you’ve created.”
To my unadulterated delight, Arin scowled at the praise. By Sirauk’s cursed depths, the Nizahl Heir was flustered. “It can hardly be called a system.”
I counted on my fingers. “You give every family in the lower villages an allotment of grains, oats, potatoes, and rice. The more members of a family, the higher the allotment. A youth supporting their family is exempted from conscription, and if there are several eligible children in a single household, the age to join is raised to twenty. Which, of course, essentially means everyone in the lower villages is exempt.”
Arin pursed his lips. “Wes.”
I brushed his arm as we walked past the first of the metal buildings. “You care about your people, Arin. That is not a quality to be embarrassed about.” The statement felt like a confession, meant for whispering in the lonely dark. “You will be an excellent Supreme one day.”
At Arin’s silence, I glanced up to find him staring at me, an indecipherable look in his eyes. My fingers curled in the pockets of my cloak, fighting the asinine urge to reach for him. I wanted to laugh, avert my gaze, anything to defuse the pressure. If I let it settle, if I looked at it too closely, the fragile stage upon which we circled might crumble.
“I am glad to hear you speak my name outside of imminent danger,” Arin said softly, and the battle was lost.
Idiot! Hanim howled. How many ways can you betray us, Essiya?
It didn’t feel like betrayal. It felt like wandering through the woods for an endless night and finally stumbling into the dawn.
It was the feeling I had at the sight of Mahair after hours of catching frogs by the moonlight. The rush of Hirun around me. Fairel’s giggle and the click of Rory’s cane. Anchors, real and solid, pinning me to earth.
I smiled shakily. “I will make frequent use of it, then.”
After a lifetime of running, he was my homecoming.
Rings formed in the pond to my right as the ground rumbled. Arin grinned, gloved hand closing around mine as he tugged me forward. A slew of soldiers stumbled from one of the metal buildings—military compounds—and sprinted to the south. We were behind them, out of view. The sight of so many bedraggled Nizahl soldiers, devoid of the rigid discipline training would bring, brought a chuckle to my lips. The Supreme wouldn’t be pleased I was witnessing this. The Commander had taken an Omalian villager deep into the Citadel’s ground, to the compounds housing Nizahl’s newest recruits.
“The midnight runs,” I said. “Is anyone holding a mop?”
Arin groaned, releasing my hand. My fingers curled around the absence. “You are not to be left alone with my guardsmen anymore.”
We resumed our walk. The sight of his soldiers seemed to have invigorated Arin; he spoke more freely than he ever had. He described the trades the soldiers needed to learn, because their duties extended beyond surveillance and fighting. The recruits rotated between the compounds, and only when they were deemed to have performed with exceptional skill in their trainings and trades were they advanced into the army.
“Do you train the new recruits yourself?”
“Rarely. They are too frightened of me.” He sounded unhappy about a fact most would find pleasing. “They will simply obey.”
I lost track of the number of soldiers who bowed to Arin as we walked. “Is obedience not what a Commander should seek?”
“Obedience should be conscious, not instinctual.”
We turned around, beginning our return to my suites. Another soldier bowed, and I huffed. “Have you considered coloring your hair? You might be able to walk an entire ten feet without being recognized.”
Arin raised a brow. His silver hair was luminescent, a crown in its own right. “Why would I avoid recognition? The only people who do not wish to be known are the ones with something to be ashamed of.”
The Citadel’s silhouette took shape ahead. The heart and soul of Nizahl. Inside, Rawain would be toasting to his Champion’s success in the trials. Anticipating the glory I would bring to his kingdom.
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose you are right.”
The ride to the arena passed in tense silence. Sprawled in the center of massive brown fields, the arena loomed ahead like a blight on the land. To prevent a crush of spectators, carriages were stopped half a mile from the arena. My stomach hadn’t ceased its anxious gnawing since leaving the suites an hour ago. “I can walk the rest of the way.”
“It’s raining,” Jeru said.
I deliberately blinked the water from my lashes to communicate my thoughts on his astute observation.
“I will go with her.” Arin stepped smoothly from the carriage.
Wes and Jeru gaped. “But Your Highness, you’ll be on foot while the other royals are entering by carriage.”