Free The Archer's Heart by Astrid Amara

with a hungry need for more. He had never been so confused and fascinated by anyone. They sat around and made jokes, or talked about nothing, and yet it seemed like the most important discourse in the history of the world. Jandu loved everything about being with his cousin. Keshan had a wonderful, if slightly raunchy, sense of humor, and never hesitated to argue with Jandu, which lesser lords refused to do out of respect for Jandu’s lineage. Jandu could be himself around Keshan, and it was rare to find such friends in the palace, especially now.
    “I thought most of the performers left last week,” Jandu said, walking casually beside Keshan.
    “A few acts still linger in town. Mostly because they haven’t earned enough money to get back to where they came from.”
    Jandu scratched his arm, and as he did so, he caught a whiff of his armpit and scowled. “God, I need a bath. I better clean up before I show my face in public.”
     “I like the way you smell,” Keshan said with a wink.
    Jandu swallowed his words, choking on what should have been a clever reply. He flustered so easily around Keshan.
    “But I can wait while you wash and change,” Keshan said. “Besides, I’ve never seen your rooms. I’m curious.”
    “They aren’t impressive,” Jandu said.
    Keshan reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Jandu’s ear. The touch startled Jandu, but Keshan just smiled. “You look pretty disheveled.”
    “I did just come crawling out of a dirt pit, thanks to Mazar’s sharta.” Jandu hoped his blush wasn’t obvious. Keshan always surprised him this way, touching him in a confident, familiar manner that left Jandu weak in the knees.
    “I felt that one too.”
    “How could you?”
    “I’m half-Yashva.”
    “What does that have to do with anything?” Jandu nodded to the guards as they passed through the gates of the outer palace wall.
    Keshan gave Jandu a surprised glance. “Do you even know what a sharta is?”
    “Of course I do,” Jandu said. “It’s a magical weapon.”
    “But what it is? What it is really?” Keshan shook his head. “Triya. All they care about is the destruction. They don’t care that every time they fire their shartas, they are pulling Yashvas into this world and transforming them.”
    Jandu frowned. “Transforming a Yashva?”
    “A sharta is a spell which opens a door between the Yashva and human worlds, and then summons one particular Yashva into the human world. Every Yashva has a unique shartic nature, which is how they manifest themselves on earth. So when you use a sharta, you are pulling some Yashva from their life in their own world and transforming them into tools.”
    “This way.” Jandu cut the corner between the armory and the guard tower, taking a short cut to his own rooms. “How come we are never taught this?”
    “No one here cares about the Yashvas, even though they formed the world. We are only thought of as spirits, nothing more.”
    “What happens after the sharta is expelled?” Jandu asked.
    “The summoned Yashva reappears in the Yashva kingdom, exhausted and pissed off.” Keshan smiled. “I saw it while I stayed with them during my exile.”
    Jandu wanted to ask Keshan more questions about his time in the Yashva kingdom, but Keshan’s expression had closed. Jandu let it go.
    Jandu’s rooms were at the far end of one of the larger and newer buildings, overlooking a rose garden and pool that he shared with Baram. Keshan immediately wandered about, taking in the sparse decorations as Jandu excused himself and went to the bath. When he returned, refreshed and in a change of clothing, Keshan had an odd smirk on his face.
    “I can’t determine anything about you by your rooms,” he said.
    Jandu shrugged. “I don’t spend much time here. If it were me, I’d just have targets on the wall.”
    “But who are you, Jandu Paran? Really?” Keshan smiled slyly.
    Jandu laughed. “Just me. Handsome. Talented. Brilliant. You know the