Act 1 Chapter 69
JAYLAH
Something was already wrong in the air.
It was in the crowd bunching before Rhamnos's city walls. Worry trickled in. If they were checking people one by one, they would notice Jaylah. She held her head down, wishing she had not braided her hair tightly back from her face. It was easier to remain hidden abroad, but these were her own people. For better or for worse, they knew her face. And she was virtually unprotected.
A small breath of relief loosed in her chest when they neared enough to notice soldiers were not stopping any citizens, merely watching them from both sides of the narrow gates with eyes like eagles. Jaylah subtly moved to the center of the back, praying for the first time ever that nothing about her was too remarkable. Beside her, Alexander had picked up on her nervousness.
They passed through the gates and Jaylah raised my chin a bit more to take in the city's splendor. They were on a main street with green topiaries, thick red tarps to provide shade and shimmering pools reflecting the sky bringing color to the intricate ivory shopfronts. This was one of the things she missed most about home—the unique beauty she grew up with. Every city here had architecturally different inspiration depending on its people, but there were the same impressively beautiful elements that carried through every city, making them specifically and obviously Oceanic.
"This place is so ugly," Alexander said, having seen her relief.
Her eyes snapped over to deliver him a lethal side glare. He could not help but grin like the heathen he was. He was lucky she was in a good mood and chose to keep walking.
Jaylah was vaguely aware of Alexander making a sudden flinching movement and thought nothing of it until his arm brushed hers. Immediately pulling away, she got a good, long look at his slack face. His unfocused eyes. Jaylah scrambled for an answer until he swayed on his feet once more, making it necessary for her to steady him with an arm around his lower back. Only then did she see the small pin sticking from his side just above the hipbone. He must have tried to dodge it, but only succeeded in slowing its effects.
With her other hand, she instantly pulled it out. Her heart thundered. The tip was imbued with some kind of toxin.
There was no time to run. Jaylah glanced back up just at the moment his eyes rolled back into his skull and his head slumped forward, hair falling to cover the glistening whites of his eyes. Oh Gods. It must have been that rival assassin, the one that coveted Alexander's title. He had a revolver.
With his weight now leaned fully on her, he was too heavy to hold up. She had to lay him on the ground. As soon as his blank face was to the sky, she whirled to find his attacker, searched for any familiar face. Nothing. The dart possibly came from above, perhaps even as high as the red roofs. They had to have been watching her even now.
Leaving Alexander's unconscious body unprotected was his death sentence. But she could not fight off a revolver with a sword. If the aggressor would not show himself until after she went after him, how could she just stand there and wait like a sitting duck?
No one in the streets seemed to notice anything amiss. They probably thought Alexander had too much wine to drink. Jaylah was alone. Again. Whatever decision she made, its outcome could have the possibility to put her in the grave. Or worse, plague her until it.
There was a series of small columns on a landing several stories above, the darkness between them glaring. Jaylah could not see any hidden figures, but she would if she moved. Daring to take a few steps from him, she drew her swords.
It all happened so fast. There was a loud whirring noise, then all Jaylah knew was pain around her chest and restriction in her legs. Screams. The world was one last swirl of blue sky, then all limestone bricks. Her head cracked against the ground, blackening her vision. Less than one second later, her skull and still-healing chest wound sang in the tune of so much pain she actually groaned out loud.
Stars flashed before her eyes. She had to wait for air to enter her lungs. One shuddering, pain-racked breath. Then another. Her chest was heaving and still could not take in enough air. Was her wound reopened? She raised a hand to check it, but it never came. Her arms were frozen at her sides. Her legs were just as immobilized. She could not turn to look back at what had become of Alexander.
The buzzing in her ears dimmed enough to make her aware of approaching voices. Too close. Alexander. Using all her strength, Jaylah rolled over and did her best to sit up. Chains with iron balls at the ends clanked against the street with her movement—the kind used during war to down the enemies' steeds. They were too heavy and tangled for her to find footing.
All she could do was kneel and watch as cruel men dragged Alexander's rag-doll body back to their cart.
Rage fueled her every move as she watched then carelessly grip him around the arms. The same rage that burned the City of Luck when her first prize was stolen. No, no, no. That damn assassin had sold him out.
Both her swords lay strewn on the ground a yard from her. She simply pointed a damning finger at the slavers. "In the name of the crown, you will rue the abominable actions you took today. As your Queen, I will rip every part of your skin from your flimsy bodies before I get to work on the rest."
Jaylah made another clumsy movement to stand. She half-managed it as the two unoccupied slavers chuckled. "We apologize," they said, feigning being included in what they thought was a joke. "How strange for Her Majesty to be without an entourage or guards within her own city. Run along, little royal. Our Queen is abroad for foreign business. Surely she would rip into you for spreading the story that she was accompanied by a Navrikan pig." He spat out the last two words as if they were dirty in his mouth.
No, they did not think Jaylah was joking. They thought she was a raving lunatic.
Blood rushed in her ears. They were mocking her. Her gaze flicked to her swords. They were laughing just as her father's men had laughed.
Alexander's body was out of sight, thrown haphazardly into the back of the cart. Of course they did not treat him gently. They were loading up, preparing to leave with their swords sheathed.
These men deserved far, far worse than what she could bestow upon them. They deserved to burn for an eternity.
Never again. Her mother's voice was a whisper in her ear. Seek restraint.
Jaylah's arms, now untethered by their chains, remained slack at her sides. She breathed out as her mother taught her, letting her wickedness steadily flow from her aching body. Their backs were turned to her, which made it easier to let the matter go.
She did not look back. What good would it do? She did not wince even as her ribcage felt as though it was tearing apart when she bent to pick up her swords. She could not feel anything besides the blood pumping furiously under her chilled skin. As the sounds of the cart's wheels rattled off behind her, she left the opposite way.
This was a knife in his back, and she knew it.
At the very least, that was how he would view the situation if he was awake. But he was not, which changed the whole situation. Everything was riding on Jaylah's shoulders. Everything. How could she jeopardize her life when she was so close? Depending on where his master's residency was, he may be dumped there by tonight. Jaylah hoped not.
Whenever she blinked, she saw his pale face, fronting no expression in unconsciousness. Something about it had been oddly soft. It would not remain that way for long. That was the face they would beat in.
So she quickened her pace, though it hurt her legs with every step. She was going to return home as rapidly as possible. And as soon as she did, every war slave would be freed from the remnants of her father's reign of terror. She would command it. He would be safe.
Still, Jaylah glanced up to the sky when a breeze cooled her skin against the sun. I will come back for you.