“Cease your self-flagellation,” I murmured. “You couldn’t have known.” Disbelief twinged at how easily he had believed me. Since when did Arin take anyone’s word at face value?
“I would have offered Sefa to a tribunal of the High Counselor’s allies. Brought her to justice,” Arin snapped. “He’s lingering near the banquet table to harass the servants.”
A cursory glance found an average-size man drifting purposely into the young serving girl’s space. He had a small mouth and a long forehead. Utterly ordinary. Nothing to indicate he nurtured an appetite for helpless young girls.
Arin’s gaze skidded past me. He swore, missing a step and bumping against the couple behind us.
Nothing alarmed me faster than a visibly alarmed Arin.
“The guards are dragging in a man and a woman wearing a glamor.”
I whirled around. Sure enough, Sefa in the glamor of an old woman and Marek glamored to resemble a black-haired laborer struggled between two Nizahl soldiers. One of them broke off to whisper in Supreme Rawain’s ear.
I tried to rush forward, but Arin’s grip on my elbow was crushing. “Wait.”
On the platform, Supreme Rawain heaved a sigh. “Arin?” He inclined his head toward Sefa and Marek. Arin nodded, cutting through the crowd. He did not release his hold on my arm.
Relief flooded Sefa’s face at the sight of me. “You’re all right,” she exhaled. “Sylvia, someone raided the Victor’s carriages. The soldiers think it was us. We told them we were waiting to travel back to Omal with you, that the carriages had been ransacked before our arrival.”
“They do not believe us,” Marek growled, resistant in the soldier’s grasp.
I winced as pain bloomed where Arin still held me. Urgency underscored the Heir’s brusque voice. “Release them. Alert the soldiers to close the gates. I want my personal guardsmen at the carriages. Every soldier on the Citadel’s grounds needs to comb for the raiders, so wake the recruits.”
Marek and Sefa were freed as the soldiers scattered to obey. I covered Arin’s hand on my elbow with my own, and he finally glanced at me.
“The Urabi,” he explained, stony. “We didn’t catch any of them leaving the trial, and I assumed they had not taken the bait. They must have snuck onto the Citadel’s grounds while the soldiers were detaining the crowd. The third trial is not the end of the Alcalah: the Victor’s Ball is.”
I didn’t have a chance to react. The High Counselor, who had forgotten the serving girl in favor of squinting at Sefa while she spoke, suddenly reared back. “Sayali,” he gasped. “It’s you.”
Sefa spat at his feet.
Three guards surged forward to hold Marek down as he lunged. “Your Highness!” the High Counselor yelled. He went ruddy, his spilled drink trickling down the front of his tunic. More guards converged, swarming them. “These are the animals who robbed me and left me for dead.”
Supreme Rawain glanced over again, almost reluctantly, and roamed over the mayhem. He stood, gesturing with his scepter. “Arrest them,” he called, as one might absently call for a glass of water. “They can await trial in the dungeons.”
My heart stopped.
“Sylvia!” Sefa gasped as the soldiers bent her arms behind her back. They forced Marek’s head to the ground.
I was on a frozen lake as my mother burned. Collecting frogs while the world screamed around me. I was at the Blood Summit, and Niyar was shouting, “Run!”
Arin stopped the guards from dragging Sefa and Marek from the ballroom, but only his father could order them released. Pulse pounding in my neck, I ran through the possibilities. Even if I bided my time and devised a brilliant plan to rescue them from Nizahl’s highly secure prisons, I could fail. The minute Sefa and Marek were taken from this ballroom, their fate would be out of my hands.
I couldn’t lose anyone else. I wouldn’t.
Essiya, don’t be foolish. You have everything you want, Hanim purred. All the wealth you will ever need. Safety from Nizahl persecution. Your precious Heir. Why lose it all for a pair of foolish Nizahlans?
But it wasn’t Hanim’s voice speaking anymore. It was mine. My own voice whispering in my head, haunting me more effectively than Hanim’s memory ever could.
And for the first time, I answered. I snatched the voice and shoved it somewhere leagues deeper than the hole I’d used for Hanim’s mortal body.
I am not yours to plague anymore, I snarled. Love was not submission. It was not testing how far I could bend before I broke. Love was Sefa’s hand finding mine in the dark to reassure herself of my presence. Love was Marek entering the kingdom of his nightmares to help me. Raya’s squash soup on my birthday, Rory’s gruff smile when I named an herb correctly, Fairel’s giddy laugh. Dawoud turning the dagger onto himself. A table exploding in the Blood Summit. Love was Arin cradling my face in a burning room and telling me to run.
I looked at Marek and Sefa, and I made my choice.
“Your Highness.” I climbed the platform to Supreme Rawain. The steps groaned beneath me. “I am here to plead for their lives.”
Rawain tilted his head. I’d piqued his curiosity.
“Who are a pair of thieves to the Victor?” Rawain asked. Arin appeared at Rawain’s shoulder, muscles coiled with apprehension. I couldn’t look at him.
He would never forgive me.
“They are my companions. They are innocent of this crime.”
The scepter thudded against the floor. He looked bored again. “The trial will decide their innocence. I’m afraid I cannot grant you this request, dear Sylvia.”
I thought of a wink across an ancient oak table. A serene smile as the sky crashed around us, raining ruin onto the Blood Summit. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he took everything from me.
When you choose who you are willing to fight for, you choose who you are.
I knelt at the Supreme’s feet.
Every line in Arin’s body went taut. I gathered fistfuls of my dress, bowing my head. “Please, Your Majesty. I beg you to spare them.”
Supreme Rawain had the same thoughtful calculation I adored in his son. In the former, it sent revulsion pulsing in my gut. “Why should I?”
A bargain would have to be struck. Nothing less would ensure Sefa and Marek’s safety.
“I offer myself in their place.”
Sefa and Marek weren’t Jasadis, but there wasn’t a doubt in my body they were mine. I would not suppress them. I would not let myself forget everything good to safeguard myself from the bad.
My magic cascaded, gathering hungrily at my cuffs.
Rawain laughed. He shared a commiserative glance with a puzzled King Murib. “I don’t want to punish my own Champion. Especially one who’s given us so much pride!” he exclaimed, drawing a few nervous chuckles.