Chapter Twenty-Seven Amunet
TWENTY-SEVEN AMUNET
Jasim’s scimitar knocked into my khopesh hard enough to make me stumble. He clicked his tongue. “Your footwork is sloppy.”
I huffed. “My footwork is fine.”
He gave me a look.
Begrudgingly, I adjusted my stance. Jasim nodded, satisfied.
Then he came at me again. It was harder to keep up with him than I wanted to admit.
Sweat dribbled down my face, intensifying the burning itch that had melted its way down my arms. Even my lack of sleeves didn’t help.
Just the air tickling my skin was enough to make me want to claw down to the bone.
Traveling with Nasir through Ashorah’s heat for a whole week was horrible enough, but each day seemed to bring some new torment. I felt halfway to madness.
Only halfway? King Zaid snorted.
Jasim knocked my blade to the ground.
A growl erupted from my lips.
He retrieved it and held the hilt out to me. “You’re distracted.”
I snatched it with a glower. “I’m just out of practice.”
Better be nicer to the soldier, King Zaid clucked. Chase him off and you’ll be shit out of luck when you reach the temple.
I hated that a disembodied voice might have a point. Sucking in a breath through my nose, I softened. “Sorry. Maybe we should stop for the night.”
“It’s barely been ten minutes. You agreed to an hour.”
“I’m tired.”
Jasim narrowed his eyes at me, the lantern light painting his golden skin in flecks of amber.
It was his idea to train at night, when neither Nasir nor any of his soldiers would be around to question it.
Each night we made camp, we’d turned Jasim’s tent into a makeshift ring.
The opportunity to hit something had done me good at the start of our journey, the familiarity of exchanging blows with Jasim almost therapeutic, but now not even the clash of blades was enough to keep my symptoms at bay.
“All right.” Jasim tossed his scimitar aside and crossed his arms. “What is it?”
I sighed. “I already told you—”
“Are you sick? Is it something to do with the scratching?”
Stubborn little pup is onto you, King Zaid taunted.
My head twitched in a subtle attempt to dislodge him. He cackled.
“That, right there.” Jasim pointed at my face. “What was that?”
“Gods, enough, Jasim. I’m tired, I’m going to bed. That’s all.” I turned to flee for my tent, but he caught my elbow and reeled me back, close enough that his chocolate-brown eyes consumed my world, firelight dancing in their depths.
“I watch you, Amunet,” he told me. “All day, that is what I do. I have memorized your every facial expression. Your eye rolls and your fake smiles and your sad sighs. I know them all because it is my job to know them all. But this…” His grip on my elbow softened and his other hand came up to just barely graze my jaw.
“This is different. Something is wrong. Tell me what it is so I can help you.”
Yes, tell him how you only brought him along to sacrifice him. That’ll go over so well.
My throat constricted. Jasim was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.
He’d done more than watch me; he’d learned me.
And he was still here. Still trying to help me.
Words tried to slip past the vise of my throat, and I realized I wanted to tell him the truth.
I knew it was stupid, knew King Zaid was right, but the weight of my inflamed skin, of the clamor in my head, had grown too heavy to shoulder alone.
I’d always been alone. I didn’t want to be anymore.
I whispered, “I think I’m losing my mind, Jasim.”
His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I—”
Selfish to the end, eh? The king tsked. Tell him this and you’ll have to tell him everything. It’ll hurt him. But of course, you don’t care about that, do you? No, you enjoy torturing the pup. Sadistic bitch.
I flinched hard.
“Amunet?” Jasim cupped my cheek, eyes desperately searching my face.
When King Zaid had forced me to accept Shaya, I’d felt as if there wasn’t enough room for me in my own body. It was a horrible, claustrophobic, violating feeling. One I had never wanted to experience again. But gods, it was happening again.
“I, um… I think you’re right,” I said, my voice wavering. “I think I’m sick.”
The king snorted. You can say that again.
Jasim put a hand to my forehead. He didn’t feel any fever, but still he said, “We’ll turn back. Find you a healer—”
“No,” I cut him off sharply. “I have to speak to Shaya.”
“Amunet…”
“I’ll be fine once I speak with him, I just have—”
Once you kill Jasim, you mean.
I hope you’re rotting, I snapped at the king viciously. I hope your blood is staining that throne you loved so much. I hope the Kaldfolk slit your throat—or worse—and I hope it hurt. I hope you were in agony.
King Zaid merely laughed.
“Amunet.” Jasim’s gaze was penetrating, fingers pressing into the skin of my jaw as if he could keep my mind from slipping if only he held on tight enough.
My legs tensed with the instinct to run. I couldn’t tell him. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much the look tried to draw me in. The moment he knew, the look would die. Its promises, its comfort, it would all vanish before my eyes, and I’d be alone again.
Normally, I would be relieved to be rid of the look’s lies, but for one foolish moment, I wondered… what if it wasn’t a lie?
King Zaid’s snicker mocked the na?ve hope. Fine, maybe the look was a lie or an illusion, but I was hearing the dead king’s voice in my head. What was one more illusion?
I curled my fingers into Jasim’s tunic. “Do you remember a few years ago, when we were forced to train in the height of summer and I got heatstroke?”
Confusion twisted his features, but he nodded. “You passed out in the middle of the ring. Training ended early because of it.”
I smiled slightly. “No one could wait to go inside, where there were fans and ice, but you were there when I woke up. You didn’t leave. You never leave.”
Loyal pup that confuses beatings for love, the king quipped.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathed, begged, “Stay with me.” My knuckles turned white from how hard I gripped Jasim’s shirt. “Please, stay.”
“Of course I’ll stay.” Jasim rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll always stay, Amunet.”
Gods, forcing him to make a promise like that while marching him to his death. You really are evil, aren’t you.
I shook my head as tears welled up.
“I’m here.” Jasim wrapped an arm around me and drew me into him. “I won’t leave you.”
It was selfish. It was evil. It was everything Zaid said, everything I thought about myself, but I let him make that promise. I savored it. Cherished it. Basked in the security of it.
Then I tipped my face up to his and kissed him.