Page 25 of The Jasad Crown (The Scorched Throne #2)

My insides went cold. Maia touched my shoulder, but I shoved her off. I was going to kill him, and no one would stop me this time.

“You unleashed Al Anqa’a?!” I roared.

Al Anqa’a weaved low over Galim’s Bend, its clipped wings forcing it into a low loop around the village. Its beady eyes scanned the screaming villagers. Hunting.

Namsa’s grip on my elbow halted my progress around the lake. “Mawlati, the kingdoms recapture Al Anqa’a every Alcalah. As soon as the Supreme’s soldiers arrive—”

“Dawoud died protecting me from Al Anqa’a.” I tore my arm away. “It nearly killed me. And now you’ve unleashed it on villages of people without a trace of magic or training!”

Namsa had gone white at the mention of her uncle. I hoped she felt the judgment of his ghost heavy at her neck.

“Look!” came a shout. I whirled around, and my heart leapt into my throat at the image in the water.

At the crest of a low hill, thundering down on a black horse, was Arin.

He believed me.

I waited for the soldiers to come pouring down the hill behind him. Reinforcements with the weapons and tools needed to take down Al Anqa’a and hordes of monsters, more of them than the kingdoms had handled in decades.

No one came. Arin was the single spot of color on the dark hillside, and he rode toward the wreckage of Galim’s Bend without slowing.

I was fixed to the spot as I watched Arin swing from his horse and survey the rubble and smoke.

A nisnas lashed its arm around his knee, but he slashed through its joint before it could tighten its grip.

Arin had trained me for the Alcalah; he had prepared other Champions before me.

He knew that walking into Galim’s Bend without help would spell his quick and brutal demise.

Arin swung onto his horse and turned it back up the hill.

“Coward,” I heard Efra hiss.

Tension lined my body. Arin wouldn’t leave his people in distress. I knew that look. Damn it to the tombs, he had a theory.

At the top of the hill, Arin stopped. The Visionists joined their fingers at the tips and pulled them apart, moving the scene closer to Arin.

We watched, soundless, as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them to the ground.

He shrugged off his coat and undid the buttons at his wrists, rolling his sleeves over his elbows.

His gaze lifted. Al Anqa’a had spotted him. A lone figure on the hill; much easier prey than the crush of villagers darting between fire and other predators.

My stomach curled into a pit of dread as Al Anqa’a folded its wings and soared toward Arin. He pulled a dagger from his pocket and waited. What was he thinking ? Awaleen below, I was about to watch Arin have his conniving head torn from his shoulders.

“Does he think he can conquer Al Anqa’a with that little knife? He’s going to get torn to pieces,” someone remarked cheerfully.

“Good work, Efra.”

“Wait,” Namsa snapped. “This is the Silver Serpent. He would not usher in his own death. There’s something… something we are not seeing.”

The shadow of Al Anqa’a cast Arin in darkness. Its beak opened. Talons unfurled. And still, he didn’t budge.

Just as pearly white claws were about to curl around Arin, he dropped to the ground and rolled.

Before Al Anqa’a could close its claws around the empty spot where he’d stood, Arin stabbed into its underbelly.

It bellowed, the powerful beat of its wings sending trees crashing and boulders hurtling down the hill.

It burst into flight, weaving along the peaks and hollows of the valley overlooking Galim’s Bend.

“Why is it flying like that?” At some point, Maia had joined me and Namsa on the edge of the lake.

I had no answer for her. When I’d sliced into Al Anqa’a, it had merely shaken me off like a persistent mosquito. Not dipped and weaved like a drunk leaving his tavern chair.

It skimmed dangerously close to an outcropping of sharp stones, and only then did I see him.

Silver hair whipping in the wind, features set with determination, Arin looked like lightning molded into a man.

He must have used the knife to hike his way to the creature’s neck without being thrown off. An elbow was crooked around the blade to hold him in place, leaving both his hands free to press against Al Anqa’a.

I covered my mouth to hide the wild laugh threatening to burst free.

That cunning, brilliant man knew the best weapon against Al Anqa’a wasn’t a knife—it was his touch.

The same curse that allowed him to drain magic from Jasadis apparently allowed him to drain it from other creatures.

Had he known before he hurled himself onto Al Anqa’a whether his plan would work?

Al Anqa’a looped around, wings slowing, as though it had lost the energy to carry their weight. It flew too low to avoid the outcropping of stone this time, and it bellowed as the rocks shattered the feathers on its underside.

It was going to crash. Al Anqa’a was going to crash with Arin still on it.

The beast had returned to the spot where Arin had stabbed it. It swerved right and flew toward the flaming remnants of Galim’s Bend.

“Get off, get off,” I heard myself whispering. Namsa and Maia glanced at me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

On top of Al Anqa’a, Arin glanced at the hillside rapidly vanishing beneath them and the approaching wreckage.

I held my breath.

Arin slid down Al Anqa’a’s spine, gaining speed as he raced past the glass wings.

He tumbled from Al Anqa’a just as it cleared the bottom of the hill.

It kept flying, the ends of its fiery wings sweeping the ground, before it slammed into a row of shops.

The shops exploded, wood and detritus flying in all directions.

Al Anqa’a skidded, toppling at least a dozen structures before it finally slowed to a halt.

The path of its destruction cut wide, and at its end the great beast shuddered, completely colorless, and lay still.

“He killed Al Anqa’a,” Maia whispered, voice thick with disbelief.

On the hillside, Arin drew himself up on a knee. Blood wept from multiple gashes on his arms, pouring through his uniform. Shards from Al Anqa’a had slashed his palms, and a patch of his hair was matted and red.

Hundreds of shadows assembled at the top of the hill, blotting out the moonlight.

The Nizahl soldiers had arrived.

Rovial’s tainted tomb, what had taken them so long? How could they have left their Commander to fight alone?

Behind Arin, a single arm dragged a heap of oozing flesh and filleted bone with chilling speed in Arin’s direction.

The nisnas gained on Arin, soundless in the grass. The Heir still knelt, his sight fixed on his soldiers, who were too far to see or help him.

Turn around , I wanted to shout. The scream I swallowed tore my throat raw. He couldn’t defeat Al Anqa’a and then fall to a nisnas. Turn around, turn around!

Arin went still. Very slowly, his head turned, neck tight with tension.

Blue eyes looked directly at me.

Gasps sounded around me. Maia and Namsa skittered back, cursing in Resar.

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised he had heard me. That across mountains and hills and trees, my voice reached him.

Turn around!

Just as the nisnas snapped its arm forward, Arin whirled.

The vision went black. The suspended water crashed into the lake and sprayed me, Maia, and Namsa. The three Visionists collapsed, narrowly saved from falling into the lake by their companions. They must have emptied their stores completely.

I found myself once again at the center of attention as all eyes left the Visionists and turned to me.

“How did you do that?” Namsa demanded.

“Do what?”

“He looked right at you!”

“She summoned him!” another voice cried out. “She created a portal!”

The murmurs grew, rising until I couldn’t pick out individual voices.

“The Visionists can’t create portals,” Efra shouted.

I braced myself for his barrage of accusations.

“The Silver Serpent is sensitive to magic, remember? The Visionists always refuse to conjure visions of him for fear he would sense the trace of their power. They held up this vision with him at the center for nearly twenty minutes, and indeed, their fear was confirmed. The Malika just happened to be standing in front when he sensed it.”

If someone had asked me at the start of this week whether it was more likely I’d plunge into a sea full of ancient monsters, watch Arin ride Al Anqa’a, or experience Efra defending me, I would never have chosen the last option.

I would probably have jumped out of the nearest window, but I wouldn’t have predicted this.

“We can’t risk casting a vision near him again,” Lateef agreed. He’d been standing behind the Visionists when they collapsed. “What if he manages to see into our side?”

“We learned our lesson,” Efra said gruffly. “But our goal has been accomplished. The kingdoms will turn against one another. The careful order the Silver Serpent sought to maintain is broken.”

Their moods lifted, the Urabi started filtering back into the mountain, chatter of food, war, and sleep mingling among them. Efra, Namsa, Maia, and I remained at the lake.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t need you to defend me.”

“I do not intend to repeat it.” Efra cast a hard glance at the crushed ice floating over the lake. “Your power fills them with hope. Hope is all that has sustained us through years of horror and desolation. I will not let you tear it from them by revealing the dark underbelly of your magic.”

Namsa held up her hands. “Efra, consider your accusations. The Commander is sensitive to magic. It’s entirely possible your story holds truth.”

Efra scoffed. “Don’t be na?ve. She was watching the nisnas approach him like her heart was on the Awaleen-damned butcher’s block.

We have no idea what her magic is capable of because she refuses to use it .

But let us review, shall we? Her magic conjured a kitmer in the middle of the Victor’s Ball, it destroyed a wing of the Citadel, and it summoned the Sareekh—the Sareekh , Namsa—to her rescue.

She could have easily started to create a portal without realizing it. ”

Maia cleared her throat. “Portalists are extinct, though, aren’t they? The only known one allied with the Mufsids.”

“Am I speaking to a wall?” Efra threw his arms wide. “Her magic doesn’t follow any accursed rules!”

“All magic has rules. Consequences.” Namsa turned to me, a speculative gleam in her eyes. “We just need to find out what hers are.”