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He reached inside his clothes, took out a rolled-up piece of paper, and offered it to me. I took it and opened it. A shockingly beautiful blond woman looked at me from a photograph. She wore a grass-green gown, and despite the mane of golden blond hair cascading down her back, the Shinar blood was unmistakable. Was this some sort of cousin my aunt neglected to mention?
There was something familiar about her eyes and the expression. So famili— Julie. It was her. The face wasn’t hers, the hair was the wrong color and texture, the eyes were green, the body seemed too muscular, but it was her. It was my kid.
“How?”
“She was dying. Erra went into a deep sleep with her for nine months to heal her. When they woke up, Julia looked like that.”
And they didn’t tell me. Why? There must have been a very good reason. Both Erra and Julie told me everything, from which enemies they fought to a detailed review of chicken nuggets they had for lunch.
Anxiety punched me, rolling over me in an icy rush. “Is she okay now?”
“She’s healthy and strong. Her powers have grown, and she fights in the way of the old kingdom, with magic and blade.”
Nothing short of a catastrophe would have stopped them from telling me about Julie nearly dying. What had happened?
Jushur frowned. “We don’t know the details and, most importantly, we don’t know why this happened. We will find out, Sharratum. I give you my word.”
Magic skimmed my skin, as if a cold, clammy hand brushed me with its fingertips. My eyes snapped open. The bed next to me was empty. Where was my husband?
The magic thickened around me, like a fresh spring that broke through the ground’s surface and was now quietly bubbling up, flooding the area. The sky was still dark. The clock said 5:03 a.m. Sunrise was about two and a half hours away.
Medmagic took a lot out of the body, and I had gotten two intense treatments in one day. I could barely keep my eyes open once the sun had set, and around 3:00 a.m. or so, I’d gone back to bed. When I had gone upstairs, Curran was on the second floor, eating and watching Jushur and Rimush interact with the pack. Now he was gone.
If something urgent had happened, Curran would’ve woken me up, so whatever took him away likely wasn’t too alarming. The dense currents of magic swirling around me definitely qualified as an emergency, however. I couldn’t tell if the magic wave just started or if it had happened while I slept. Either way, the source of this sudden magic influx was up to no good.
I slipped out of my bed and stepped onto the balcony.
On the wall, Ian was asleep, slumped over in his chair. To the right of him, on the wall, Andre and Hakeem were passed out, Andre draped against the stone and Hakeem curled up. The chances of them both naturally falling asleep where they stood at the same time were about a million to zero. Magic shenanigans were afoot.
Beyond them, about a hundred yards from the wall, a lone figure waited. A priest-mage, like the other two, dressed in white and red and holding a staff. A mask obscured the top half of the face, a part of some sort of strange animal skull with two scimitar fangs that were turned upside down and attached to the skull like horns. Clay-covered face and hands again. I couldn’t tell by the silhouette if it was a man or a woman.
The figure pointed at me and waited.
It didn’t feel like a challenge. More like a request to parley.
I’d killed two of them already. This one was by themself. Even if they were magically skilled, I could take them down. Besides, this was my chance to find out what happened to the people they took.
I stepped back inside and pulled on my clothes. The belt with pouches filled with herbs, Sarrat in a sheath on my back, a couple of knives, hair put up, and I was good to go. I went down the hallway.
Wait. I’d have to communicate somehow.
I did a one-eighty, grabbed a notepad and a pen from the night table, and then padded down the stairs. The house was empty. Everyone had gone somewhere, and Curran must’ve left Hakeem and Andre to guard me while I slept.
I unbarred the gate and walked out into the open.
The priest-mage didn’t move.
I got to about fifteen yards from them, pulled a knife out, and nicked the back of my arm. I’d need my own blood for this. The red fluid ran down to the tip of my index finger. I turned, letting it fall in a circle around me, and activated it with a burst of magic. A blood ward surged to life, flashing ruby red, then turned transparent. I sealed the wound and sat inside the ward cross-legged, my saber on the grass in front of me.
