The Bone Shard Daughter

by Andrea Stewart

  It couldn’t have been comfortable.

  Phalue set her palm on the stack of books, her expression solemn. “I read them. All of them. I would have called for you sooner, but it took me some time.”

  Hope blossomed in Ranami’s chest, unfolding gently as a flower in a wet season rain. “I never expected you to.”

  “But you asked me to. That should have been enough. I always thought you asked too much of me, but I’m beginning to understand: you never asked enough.”

  Ranami tried to gather herself. The flowers, the lanterns – they could be for someone else. Phalue had summoned her here for advice, not a reconciliation. She would have said she wanted to reconcile in her missive, wouldn’t she? But the tears had already gathered in her eyes. She wiped them away with the flat of her hand, embarrassed. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  Phalue rose and strode between the lanterns to Ranami. Each step made Ranami’s heart leap. Hesitantly, Phalue lifted a hand and touched Ranami’s cheek. “I wasn’t sure if you would come if I asked you for more.” Her breath gusted warm across Ranami’s cheek. “It’s hard to remake one’s view of the world, to admit to complacency. I thought remaking myself for you was hard enough, but doing that was something I wanted. I didn’t want to realize how much I’ve hurt the people around me, and that’s what confronting my beliefs meant. We all tell ourselves stories of who we are, and in my mind, I was always the hero. But I wasn’t. Not in all the ways I should have been. Can you forgive me?”

  Ranami laughed through her tears. “Can you forgive me? I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  Phalue brought her other hand up, cupped Ranami’s cheeks. Ranami felt her pulse pounding at her neck, the way it had the first time they’d ever kissed. She’d known then that things would come between them, but she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried. She closed her eyes, her chest aching. She heard the creak of Phalue’s armor as she bent, a sweetness rising in her throat to burst like honey on her tongue. When her lips brushed against Ranami’s, it was like the sealing of a letter – a promise that could not be unwritten. She wrapped her arms around Phalue’s broad shoulders, tangled her fingers in her hair. She sank into Phalue’s embrace, her legs weak beneath her. This was home.

  Phalue pulled back a little, brushing the damp hair from Ranami’s cheeks. “You promised me before that you’d live here at the palace with me if I helped you. I won’t hold you to that promise.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ranami said, breathless. She clung to Phalue like a woman drowning.

  “No,” Phalue said, shaking her head.

  For a moment, Ranami’s heart dropped to the soles of her feet. She couldn’t gather a breath to speak.

  “I want more than that,” Phalue said. She took Ranami’s hands in hers. “You said you never wanted to be a governor’s wife, and I understand that now. You didn’t want to be a party to the way this island has been run. You didn’t want to contribute to the pain you saw and experienced. But I will do better. And I want to do better with you at my side. Ranami, will you be my wife? Please?”

  Ranami pressed her forehead to Phalue’s, grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Is this the tenth proposal? The eleventh?”

  “I would propose a thousand times if I knew you’d say yes in the end.”

  “You’re governor now. I shouldn’t let you debase yourself so.”

  Phalue squeezed her hands. Her voice was soft, breathless. “Is that a yes?”

  Ranami had thought their love would end in disaster. It still might. But she was willing to take the chance. “Yes.”

  46

  Jovis

  Imperial Island

  The woman emerged from the dimly lit hallway, looking as worse for the wear as I felt. She’d wrapped a makeshift bandage around a wound in her shoulder that seeped fresh blood, and her tunic was slashed across the middle and bloody. She looked exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, her black hair hanging limply around an unremarkable face. In spite of her injuries, there was a reserve of strength behind those eyes. My gaze dropped to her feet and I saw fresh spatters of blood on the hem of her pants. Somehow, I doubted that blood was hers. I leaned on my steel staff like a walking stick. Kill her! my mind screamed. The wrongness I’d sensed in the palace seemed to follow her like a cloud.

  I might have attacked except for the creature at her side.

  It was taller than Mephi by at least a head, though its back was hunched in pain and its chin low. Several bandaged wounds on its shoulders were stained with blood. Though its horns were longer than Mephi’s, it was almost entirely bald, random patches of thick hair sprouting from its belly, back and cheeks. By the possessive way this woman draped her arm about its neck, this creature was hers in the way Mephi was mine. I didn’t know what that meant.

  “Who are you?” she asked again. “And what are you doing here?” Her voice traveled to me as though through a rolled piece of parchment.

  A thousand lies filtered through my mind. An Imperial soldier. A guard. A friend? No, that was beyond idiotic. I didn’t know who she was, or where she stood in the palace hierarchy. I didn’t know what chaos had occurred here, or if she had the same powers as I did.

  I tried the truth. “My name is Jovis. I’m a smuggler.”

  Her brow furrowed as she glanced down. “I know that name.” Her gaze met mine. “The folk songs. You’re the one who’s been smuggling the children away from the Tithing Festivals.”

  “That’s me. Jovis from the songs.” We could have been two strangers meeting on the street, not two people who’d recently won what had clearly been difficult fights. I looked her up and down again, trying to get an idea of who she might be. Her tunic, before it had been shredded, looked hand-painted. She wasn’t a servant. It was the only clue I had.

  “Again, what are you doing here? The gates—”

  “Were not guarded,” I smoothly finished for her.

  She pursed her lips. “Ah. Of course. They wouldn’t have been.”

  I shifted from foot to foot, my breath short. I couldn’t seem to take in enough air. “I was here to turn myself in.”

  The look she gave me was incredulous and very clearly stated,“Are you addled?” And then a construct prowled from behind her, a growl low in its throat.

  “Quiet, Bing Tai,” she said.

  A sinking feeling started in my chest. Mephi looked up at me as though he could sense it. “Very bad?”

  “Yours can talk,” the woman said. It was more an excited statement than a question.

  “Excuse me,” I said, because I had the feeling I might know who she was now, “but do you mind if I ask who you are?” My mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Were the lamps dimming?

  She straightened, her chin held high. “I am Lin Sukai, and I am your Emperor.”

  The hallway began to spin. “That is… that is not what I expected.” My knees gave way and the world went black.

  47

  Lin

  Imperial Island

  I started with the small things. A bath, calling for a physician to stitch my wounds and Thrana’s, a simple proclamation to Imperial and all the known islands that my father was dead and I was now Emperor. I’d hired guards to man the walls immediately. I had the coin. What I didn’t have were constructs. I felt a little of the paranoia my father must have felt – how could I trust men and women I did not know?

  But I hadn’t had much choice.

  I shifted on my chair, my pen poised over paper as I deliberated what I should say. I didn’t have the benefit of Ilith’s network anymore. I had no idea what was happening beyond Imperial, and that ignorance could kill me. I needed to ask the governors how their islands fared while seeming like I already knew.

  And after the awakening of the mural, I needed to ask: what other Alanga artifacts had awakened? Had there been any other signs? I needed to study those books in the library, to gather defenses. I didn’t know the Sukais’ secret for defeating the Alanga. That had died with the Emperor. But so
mewhere in the library, among all of Shiyen’s experiments, there had to be clues. Next to me, Jovis lay stretched on the couch, his companion curled at his feet, alert and watching.

  I’d had the servants and the physician tend to both the smuggler and his beast. I’d watched with fascination as his wounds and his companion’s had healed more quickly than I’d thought possible. And then I’d noticed mine and Thrana’s doing the same. I had so many questions, ones it seemed he might be able to answer.

  “Is this what you do for all criminals who turn themselves in? I would have turned myself in much earlier had I known.”

  I dropped the pen and twisted in my chair.

  Jovis had opened his eyes and was watching me. He lifted a weak hand. “You should work on your posters. There’s something about ‘Any persons harboring this individual will be hanged’ that seems rather threatening.” His companion crept to his face and sniffed his cheeks. Jovis squinted and waved him off. “Are you checking to see if you can eat me yet, Mephi? Regrettably, I am not dead.”

  I studied him as he scratched his beast’s cheeks. I think he knew I was watching him, but he kept his gaze low, let me look. Despite the songs, he seemed unremarkable. A little taller than average, with a rangy build and sun-darkened skin. A light spray of freckles ran across his nose, disappearing into the thick, curly hair at his cheekbones. There was Poyer blood in him, I’d have sworn it. As he rubbed his companion’s undamaged ear, I saw the tattoo on his wrist – the mark of an Imperial navigator. I’d expected someone grand, with shoulders like mountains and arms thick as pillars. He looked too thin, too plain, too tired to be a hero. Yet he’d defeated scores of soldiers if the songs were to be believed.

  I wasn’t sure what to believe.

  But when I’d exited the palace doors, I’d seen one of my father’s constructs dead at the base of the steps. I’d not seen its kind before. Its unnatural height, its four arms and the scattered blades had given me pause. Jovis must have killed it. I supposed I should be glad that he had, for if it had been responsive to my father’s call, and had made its way inside – I wasn’t sure if I’d have had the strength to defeat it, even with Bing Tai at my side.

  “What do you plan to do with me?” he said, still not looking at me. He stroked the top of Mephi’s head. “Your father would have had me hanged. Publicly, of course. No use putting up such a fuss about an errant smuggler if you’re not going to follow through and show everyone that you will.”

  “I’m not planning on hanging you.” I should have held that back, should have made him guess, but I was too tired for games. “I want to know everything you know about your companion – Mephi.”

  “Mephisolou is his full name,” he said. “Mephi is his nickname.”

  “A grand name,” I said. “Mephi trilled a happy response. “I believe Thrana is the same sort of creature. Where did you find him?”

  “He was in the water by Deerhead Island when it sank.” Something seemed to fall away from him as he spoke, as though he’d drawn back a curtain I hadn’t realized was there. He told me how he’d plucked Mephi from the water, how he hadn’t wanted him at first, how he’d let him go. And then miraculously Mephi had come back. Little by little, he’d become more than just an animal, but a companion he couldn’t see himself being parted from.

  Thrana lay on the ground and rested her head in my lap. “I found Thrana in my father’s laboratory. I think he experimented on her.” I didn’t mention the other body I’d found growing in there. I’d left it, unsure whether removing it from the pool would wake it up. A matter to be dealt with at a later time. I stroked the bare skin of Thrana’s neck, gently running my fingers over the wounds the physician had stitched shut.

  “She’ll need you to help her get better,” Jovis said.

  Our eyes met. I felt an odd rapport with this man who’d shown up inside my palace. “Stay here,” I said impulsively. “My rule has just begun. I need help. I want to stop the Tithing Festivals, and I need to find a way to change things, to make them better. Pardoning you would be a symbolic beginning.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Your father wanted me dead, and you want me to work for you?”

  No matter what we’d shared, I could never confess that I was not my father’s daughter. I was something so, so different. I watched his face as I spoke. “My father lived in fear – of the Alanga, of his governors, of the very people he claimed to protect. He hid himself away and conducted experiments, and let everything fall apart around him. I loved him, but he could not love me. Whatever you might think of me, of my station, I am not my father. I do not fear the people. I am Lin Sukai and I will remake this Empire.”

  Jovis had a face like my father’s – immutable as a wall when he chose it to be so. I wasn’t sure what thoughts lurked behind that expression. Mephi chirruped and leaned his chin on Jovis’s shoulder. “A very good.”

  Jovis’s face softened as he pressed his forehead to Mephi’s. He took in a breath and let it out, his eyes closed. He turned to look at me again. “Yes. I’ll help you.”

  His words held the weight of some ages-old bargain, as though we were more than just one young man and one young woman, battered and bruised, trying to puzzle out the best path forward.

  “Good,” Thrana cooed out.

  48

  Jovis

  Imperial Island

  Things could have gone much, much worse. The Emperor could have decided to have me hanged. She could have ordered her constructs to tear me apart. Or she could have sent me away, which considering my current state of mind, would have been worse. Emahla was dead. Whatever experiments the prior Emperor had conducted on her, she was gone. It hurt my heart to think of her here in this palace, alone, living out her final days in pain and anguish. I wished I’d been there for her, as she’d always been for me.

  But grief was a wave I could keep my head above.

  I tugged at the collar of the jacket Lin had gifted me. If I’d thought the soldier’s jacket an ill fit on Deerhead, this one fit even more poorly – despite the perfect measurements. It was dark blue and gold brocade, with golden buttons shaped like chrysanthemums. The high collar had just enough room around it to let my neck breathe, and it fell to mid-thigh. Lin had given me a golden sash to match, with a ring of keys hanging from it. Captain of the Imperial Guard was an odd title for a smuggler, a onetime Imperial navigator. She’d played up that second part in the proclamations, and downplayed the first. Either way, if I’d wanted a giant sign pointing out to the Ioph Carn where I resided – I’d gotten it. At least they’d hesitate to strike at me here, in the seat of the Empire’s power.

  I’d sent a missive to my mother and father the day before, letting them know where I was, what I was doing and that I was safe. I thought often of how it would be when they opened it, my mother’s eyes filling with tears, my father holding the letter to his chest. I already knew what their response would be: when could I come see them, when could they come see me, this was what had been happening on our little island, the people who had left and died, the people who had married, the children who had been born. Life had been passing by while I’d been chasing a ghost.

  “Sir, are you ready?” A servant stood in the doorway, his hands clasped. Lin had begun to hire more servants, and had ordered the buildings of the palace grounds to be repaired. Workers filled the walls, plastering and painting, cutting fresh wood. The faint scent of mud and sawdust seemed to fill the air, dust particles floating in every sunbeam. This seemed as much a symbol of rebirth as her hiring me on as Captain.

  “I’m ready,” I said. “After you.” I followed the servant, Mephi bounding at my side. And that was the biggest problem. I’d arrived at the palace expecting hostility. I’d been at odds with the Emperor from the beginning. This Lin Sukai, this daughter that few had seen since she’d been young, she claimed to want something different. It was the same thing the Shardless Few claimed to want. A better life for everyone on the islands. Gio had other motives. Did Lin? I w
asn’t sure.

  I strode through the hallways, trying not to gape at the murals, at the carvings, at the gilt inlay. The governor’s palace at Nephilanu had been so gaudy as to seem cheap. This palace carried the weight of history in it, the art carefully cultivated, each piece complementing the next.

  We made our way to the palace entrance hall.

  The doors had been thrown open. The weather was auspicious for the wet season: faintly cloudy, breezy but without the scent of rain. Lin stood at the top of the steps, resplendent in the Emperor’s fiery phoenix robes, the headdress nearly dwarfing her small, wiry frame. Guards surrounded her, mostly newly hired, though she did not seem worried. Thrana sat at her side. In the last several weeks, the fur had begun to grow back on the bare patches of skin. She still looked worse for the wear, and she was still far too thin, but she was beginning to seem intimidating.

  As I approached, I could see the crowd beyond Lin, gathered inside the palace walls. The public hadn’t been allowed inside the palace walls for the last twenty years. Even at this distance, I could see hope on their upturned faces. I stepped to the Emperor’s side and the crowd roared. Someone in the midst of the crowd began to sing the folk song about me; several others joined.

  Could a person die of embarrassment?

  All my limbs felt too long and rangy, my skin too blemished, my hands too rough and cracked. Songs were not written about people like me. People like me weren’t honored in ceremonies and given a lofty position by Imperial decree. I should have been a navigator, Emahla waiting for me at home, one or two children running about her feet. I closed my eyes briefly, waiting for the wave to pass me by. That was not my life.

  This was.

  “Kneel,” Lin said. Her voice resonated through the courtyard, filling the space. She held a medallion in her hands.