The Master of Sharks visited a merchant dealing in rare and precious gems. How much of your profit do you give to the poor? he asked.
Why should I share the fruit of my labor? the merchant responded.
Shark replied, The gem that is most valuable, is the one shining upon the most people.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jasminda awoke alone. It was just as well. She would rather remember Jack as he was last night, holding her close, whispering how much he loved her. The vision he’d spoken of chilled her. She hated that she was going to make a small part of it a reality, but she had no other choice. Her love for him would do him little good in the long run.
She located her dress, the one she was wearing when she arrived. It had been washed and pressed and was the only thing she truly owned here. She also strapped a serrated knife, nicked from her dinner tray, to her thigh using a garter.
Though her heart was fracturing, it was time for her to go back home. She would continue to unlock the secrets of the caldera for as long as it took to gain answers. Once she knew more, she would contact the palace, but in the meantime she needed to find a way back east.
The palace hallways were quiet. Jasminda managed to locate the office nearest the vehicle depot and asked for Nash. Within a few minutes he appeared, a newspaper tucked under his arm. With a nervous glance at the paper, she wondered what today’s story was.
“Is it done?” she asked.
“Yes, miss.” His keen green gaze never strayed from her. “An account has been set up at the Royal Elsiran Bank. I have the deposit slip—”
She waved her hands to stop him. “I don’t want to know how much. It was enough for the taxes and to buy back the land?”
He nodded. “And then some. The dealer’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he caught sight of your Order of the Grainbearer medal. Very rare they are. It brought in a tidy sum.”
“Well, you keep the rest. I—I don’t want it.” Her fingers twitched, remembering the feel of the soft velvet case and cool metal. Jack’s cautious smile as he’d given it to her. It was done. On her terms at least. Her grandfather could take his shame-laden contract and swallow it whole for all she cared.
Rebuilding the cabin on her own would be slow, but she would manage it. What did she have if not time? A wave of dizziness swept over her at the thought. “I need to get out of here.”
Nash’s face softened. “Of course.” He led her to the door, picking up a large, black umbrella from a stand full of them, and protected her from the driving rain as they stepped outside. Though there was a steady torrent, Jasminda was calm. The storm’s power over her had always required a catalyst—her anger. When she was collected and even, she could stay in control. So leaving now was doubly necessary, before something else sparked her rage.
Just as she and Nash reached the row of town cars, rapidly approaching footsteps caused her to turn. Four Royal Guardsmen marched up, splashing across the pavement, stiff and imposing.
“Miss,” one of the Guardsmen called as she backed toward the auto, “I need you to come with us.”
She had never before been summoned by the Royal Guard. Usher had brought messages from Jack, but he’d never sent anyone else. She cast a glance at Nash, whose brow was furrowed, before turning and following the Guardsmen back into the palace.
Despite the large umbrella, her dress was soaked from her few minutes outside. She shivered, following the men through the halls to a wide doorway. They descended a staircase, wet steps squishing on the stones, then followed a hall leading to another staircase. At the end of a sparse hallway, a fifth Royal Guardsman stood before an elaborate brass gate that he unlocked as they approached, before ushering them through. Jasminda froze when the iron bars of the dungeon cells came into view.
“What is this about?” she asked, whirling around.
The door to a cell hung open, and the Guardsmen all stopped walking, blocking every direction except into the cell.
“I’m being arrested?” Her gaze darted around the small space, sparse but clean. “By whose order?”
The young, bland Guardsman did not look at her as he spoke. “Miss, by order of Prince Jaqros you are remanded here for your own protection.”
“My protection? From what?”
“Please, miss,” he said, pointing to the cell.
“Why am I here? Why won’t you tell me?”
“Miss Jasminda,” a familiar voice said. Usher stepped out from behind the row of Guardsmen. “There has been a threat made against you. He doesn’t know who to trust. He’s trying to protect you.”
Fear stole the strength out of her budding anger. Lizvette had hinted as much the day before, but an actual threat turned her blood cold. “Then perhaps I would be safer elsewhere. He should just let me go.”
With no other options, she stepped inside the cell and shuddered as the door clanked shut behind her.
“He is not strong enough to do that.” Usher stepped to the bars and slipped a thick, warm blanket through a gap. Jasminda accepted it, lay down on the thin cot, and cried.