Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  “Then what troubles you?” Aniri glanced at the balcony. “Has something gone wrong with the plans for the announcement?”

  He looked up again. “Can I—” He stopped. “Would you be willing to—” He was flustered. In a matter of seconds, she saw more emotions pass across his face than she had seen in the entire time she had known him.

  “Prince Malik, I’ve agreed to become your Queen. Is there truly something more difficult you wish to ask of me?”

  “May I kiss you, princess?” He let it out in a rush.

  She drew back from him. “What?”

  “On the balcony. For the announcement. Just this once, I promise you.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth.

  “But...” Now it was her turn to have a loss for words. “But I thought we agreed. No children. No... no... I thought it was understood it wouldn’t be that kind of... arrangement.” Her face flamed with a heat that put the fireplace to shame. She fought the impulse to flee. What had she gotten herself into?

  “No, Aniri, I swear to the gods,” Prince Malik said. “I’m not going back on our agreement. It’s just that... well, word had traveled about the incident at the train station.”

  “With Devesh?” Aniri asked, horrified. But of course, gossip like that would travel faster than shashees and flying cable carriages.

  “Who is Devesh?” Prince Malik asked, looking lost again. “Oh, yes, the young man on the platform. Your lover.”

  Aniri swallowed. She had never heard him called that before, but of course he was, even if their trysts were limited to fevered kisses and clutched embraces in the Queen’s tea garden and under dark bridges.

  “Word has traveled, and my people were already suspicious that you were not here for your stated purpose.” He glanced at General Garesh, who watched them steadily from across the room. “And General Garesh is certain of it.”

  Janak appeared coiled tighter than a clockwork spring, his attention flipping between the general and Aniri. She was afraid he might become unsprung at any moment. Had her mission already been found out?

  “I want my people to love you as their Queen, but you have to understand how mistrustful the Jungali are of anyone from the plains. I’ve been trying to counter the rumors since we arrived earlier, but it is proving difficult, and General Garesh’s presence isn’t helping. The only way to truly quash the rumors, I believe, is to perhaps convince them this marriage is not simply arranged.”

  “What do you mean?” Aniri dragged her gaze away from the menace in General Garesh’s face.

  “My people cannot conceive that you would be so noble as to resign yourself to our barbarian lands simply to procure peace. I thought maybe they would, once you were here... but then the incident on the platform...”

  “What do they think I’m here for?” She searched his amber eyes. Did he suspect the truth?

  “To spy on us. To secretly start a war.” He gave her a tight grin. “To assassinate me perhaps.”

  He said these possibilities as if they were absurd. She couldn’t stop the short release of breath in relief. Of course, she was there to spy, but in hopes of averting a war, not starting one. And she was genuinely shocked his people would think her capable of assassinating anyone.

  It wasn’t a struggle to affect a wounded reaction to that possibility. “Do they really hate Dharians so much?”

  “Yes, Aniri, I’m afraid they do. There’s only one thing they might believe would overcome your, uh, natural tendency toward such violence and deception.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Love.”

  Aniri was speechless again, a lump in her throat rising from nowhere. “Love.”

  Prince Malik sighed. “The Jungali people are fiercely loyal, just as you said before. We believe family is a tighter bond than almost anything. But we are also a very romantic people, and fiercely passionate in other ways. If my people believed we were truly in love, that the marriage was more than simply politics, they would have to change their thinking. It could be the foundation of a true and lasting alliance, building on the support of the people behind it.”

  The tightness in Aniri’s throat eased. “Won’t they be suspicious if we announce we are madly in love?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “After all, I just arrived. And we only met a few days ago, when you already had come to ask for my hand. And there’s the matter of the incident at the train station... it begs for disbelief.”

  “Yes, but we could say we’ve been secretly meeting for months,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve made several trips to Dharia in the past few months—”

  “You have?”

  “Yes,” he said patiently, “for trading partnerships, working on arrangements to strengthen the bonds between our peoples, hoping that might help solidify my reign—”

  “Did the Queen know about this?” Aniri cut him off again. Would her mother have told her? Did she even know?

  “I’m sure she did. That’s not important. What is important is it’s plausible I have been having secret rendezvous with the Third Daughter of Dharia during that time.”

  “I see.” And it almost did seem plausible, the way he said it. A tightness drew across her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was the mountain air or that she had no good reason not to agree with the prince’s suggestion.

  “I’ve also made trips to the western coast of Dharia, in the sea town of Timbar, where perhaps we could have met without onlookers noticing either one of us.”

  Aniri breathed through the constriction in her lungs. “You’ve given this some thought.”

  He looked helplessly at her.

  “Well,” Aniri said, trying to play her part. “I suppose Timbar does have excellent food.”

  He lost the panicked look and smiled. “And the black sand beaches on the eastern shores near Chira are very mysterious and romantic.”

  “Have you been to the lava flows?” For a moment, she forgot she was pretending. That was where her father found the black sand he’d brought back to her mother. She had always planned to go there, someday.

  “I could have.” The prince’s smile grew. “In fact, I’m certain I snuck away to Chira during a trade meeting last fall. I can find other times when we could have met as well. The rumors could start immediately.” His smile faded, replaced by the earnest look he usually wore. “What do you say, princess?”

  “Definitely the shores of Chira,” Aniri said with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to see the black sand shores there.”

  He hesitated. “I meant the kiss.”

  “Oh.” Aniri’s smile dimmed. Did the rumors travel as quickly from Jungali to Dharia as they did in the reverse? Would Devesh be soon hearing about her supposed secret love affair with the Jungali prince? Even as she thought it, she knew the answer. It was far too good of a story to keep quiet—it would run like brushfire down the mountains and burn down any chance of Devesh waiting for her to return. But she wouldn’t be able to stay long enough to find out about the Jungali’s flying weapon if she were sent packing just after she arrived. And now that she had seen the cable carriages, it didn’t seem so impossibly strange that the Jungali might have advanced technology secreted away in their many mountain ravines.

  She took a deep breath. “If we are in love, then I suppose we must kiss.”

  Prince Malik took her hands in his, like he had in her mother’s chamber. “Thank you, princess. I promise, this isn’t something we will need to do often. Only whatever is necessary for the rumors to take hold.”

  “I can’t imagine it will take much,” Aniri said, forcing a smile to her face. “It’s too good a story not to believe.”

  He returned her smile, shyly. “I am sorry. For the pain this must be causing you. I wish... there was a better way.”

  She nodded. “As do I, Prince Malik.”

  He gave her a curt nod, then dropped one of her hands, leading her with the other toward the balcony. “Are you ready, your highness?”

  With her assent, he led
her through the doorway to the balcony outside. The bright mountain sun seemed to steal what was left of her breath. Or perhaps it was the colorful crowd of people thronged below them. The balcony was pure white mountain granite and gleamed from a million tiny points of reflection. A steel transmitter sat propped on the edge, its silver orb surrounded by a halo of sound sensing instrumentation. The prince had told her the balcony was wired for transmission throughout Bhakti, but much of the overcrowded city would be able to see them from their rooftops and windows. The colors of the city dazzled her eyes, blending in a way that made it difficult for her see properly.

  The prince spoke into the transmitter, greeting his people. A snapping sound rose up, the crowd quickly drowning him out with their applause. Their hands and fingers rippled like wind-tossed grain. The prince waved to his people, and squeezed Aniri’s hand, prompting her to wave as well. The snapping went on for some time, and there was no ability or sense to speak above it. Gradually, it faded, and the prince spoke into the transmitter again.

  “It gives me great pleasure to introduce to my fellow Jungali, to my beloved Bajirans, the future Queen of all our mountain provinces.” His voice rang out clear and calm, and if Aniri didn’t know better, she would have thought she heard a genuine affection in his voice, not only for his people, but for her. He was playing his part very well. She would have to do the same.

  He turned to her, pulling her close with their clasped hands and gently touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Are you ready to be Queen Aniri?” he asked, although she understood he was really asking permission, again, for the kiss. She nodded, and he dipped his head to press his lips to hers.

  Aniri didn’t know what to expect. Five minutes ago, kissing the Prince of Jungali on his balcony certainly didn’t reside anywhere within the universe of her thoughts. But a quick peck on the lips wasn’t what the prince had in mind. His hand slipped to the back of her neck, his kiss soft but urgent, as if he wanted to make sure his people saw his passion for her. She tried to picture Devesh, but that only ripped pain through her chest. Instead, she closed her eyes and pressed deeper into the kiss, lifting up on her toes to return the urgency and make it appear as genuine as possible. A roar filled her ears, and when the prince pulled away, she realized it was the crowd below, snapping and calling their approval. Aniri teetered on her toes, then sank back to the stone floor of the balcony.

  She blinked and looked to Malik for some indication of what to do next. He had already turned back to his people, smiling and waving. She did the same, a strange pounding in her head seeming to match the tempo of the crowd. The kaleidoscope of color blurred before her, and she suddenly remembered to breathe again.

  Only she couldn’t seem to get enough air.

  She kept trying to pull deeper and deeper gasps, but it wasn’t enough. Why did people live so high in the sky that there wasn’t air left to breathe? She jerkily squeezed Prince Malik’s hand. He needed to get her off the balcony before she passed out in front of his people. He glanced at her and seemed to realize the problem at once. Slipping his arm around her waist to brace her, he gave a final wave to the crowd and pulled her toward the door.

  Prince Malik’s arm around Aniri’s waist was the only thing holding her up.

  She grasped the slippery fabric at the back of the prince’s jacket, trying to keep the dizziness from sending her to the floor. He tightened his one-armed embrace and practically carried her over the threshold and back into his overly warm receiving room. She still couldn’t get enough air, and the fine draperies on the walls blurred into a colorful stream as the room spun.

  Janak appeared out of nowhere. “What did you do to her?” There was low-pitched danger in his voice, and his iron-strong arms yanked her from the prince’s relatively gentle embrace.

  “No—” Aniri gasped, but the effort to speak was too much to manage. Instead, she raised her hand to stop Janak from hurting the prince, but it only wavered in the air and landed on Janak’s face. He brushed her hand away and bent to lift her completely off the ground. She was just as glad—having his hands full with her kept him from attacking Prince Malik.

  “Not,” Aniri wheezed between gasps for breath, “the prince’s,”—gasp—“fault.” Janak only scowled. She closed her eyes and willed the world to stop spinning, but her head only lolled against the rough fabric of his uniform. A pounding started on her temples, and a pressing headache welled up behind her eyes.

  “My lady!” Aniri heard Priya arrive at her side. “What is wrong with her?”

  “It’s the thin air,” Prince Malik said. “We came up the mountain so quickly... I shouldn’t have asked her to do the announcement so soon. She needs rest and plenty of water.”

  The iron bands of Janak’s arms tightened around her, and she sensed they were moving for real now, not the surreal motion inside her head. She kept her eyes tightly shut, pressing the heel of her hand to them and trying to shove the pain away from her skull. Janak didn’t say a word. His movements were smooth but gained speed. She was thankful for once to have his strength at her disposal, to whisk her away from the embarrassment of nearly fainting in front of the prince and his people.

  Her people.

  Soon they were back in her room. Janak carefully laid her down on a bed with silken covers that felt cool against her skin. All she wanted was to crawl under the heaped cushions and feather-down blankets and wait for the headache to pass, but Priya pried her hands from her head and forced a glass of water into them. Aniri drank as much as she could, then lay back and watched the draped sheer fabric that flounced the top of her four-poster bed spin in a dance without music or actual motion. She couldn’t decide if it was better or worse with her eyes open, but she shut them anyway.

  It took nearly two hours, and several glasses of water tended to her by Priya, before the room stopped moving. When she finally opened her eyes again, she found Priya had shut out the bright afternoon light with heavy drapes drawn across the windows.

  “Are you feeling better, my lady?” Priya sat at the end of Aniri’s bed, far enough not to disturb her, but close enough to be on hand. Aniri gingerly sat up, afraid the headache would rush back.

  Priya edged closer, but Aniri waved her off. “I can’t believe the thinness of the air could render me so… insensible.”

  Priya leaned toward her on the bed and said with a soft smile, “Perhaps it was the prince’s kiss that stole your breath.”

  Aniri grimaced. “I didn’t swoon because of the prince, Priya. The kiss was simply… necessary.”

  “Oh yes.” Priya’s eyes were wide and her nod fervent. “Completely necessary. I agree.”

  Aniri shook her head, but that only brought back a sense that the room was about to spin, so she stopped.

  “Prince Malik says the air sickness is common.” Janak’s voice came from a desk in the corner of the room where his black boots were propped. “Visitors from the plains experience shortened breath and sometimes dizziness in the first few days after arrival.”

  “How well are you faring, Janak?” Aniri asked.

  “Fortunately, this mountain sickness has only afflicted you and your delicate disposition, your most royal highness.” He was back to insulting her, which Aniri took to mean he thought she would survive. “While you’ve been recovering your health, I’ve received a message from your mother.”

  “Have you?” Aniri blinked. Her eyes were still having difficulty seeing properly. She eased her bare feet—Priya must have removed her shoes—to the cool stones of the floor and shuffled toward Janak’s carved wooden desk. She held on to the posts of the bed as she went, still unsteady. Priya fluttered around her. When Aniri reached the desk, Janak waved Priya off, a motion she ignored. Laid out next to Janak was a contraption so complex, Aniri’s blurry eyes had difficulty deciphering it.

  Janak frowned. “Please send your handmaiden away so we may conduct our business.”

  “We are the only Dharians deep inside enemy territory,” Aniri
said. “Do you not think that perhaps we should trust each other? Priya already knows most of our secrets, anyway, Janak. Probably more than you.”

  Janak narrowed his eyes at Priya, who gave him a haughty look that only soured his temper more. “As you wish, your supreme eminence,” he said to Aniri. “Perhaps we should call in the prince’s guard outside the door as well? He’ll know as soon as your handmaiden goes whispering favors from him.”

  It was Priya’s turn to glare, which Aniri interrupted with a hand on her shoulder. “This requires the utmost secrecy, Priya. Please tell me we can count on you to keep it.”

  “Of course, your majesty.” Priya did a small curtsey that made Aniri smile.

  “It will disappoint you to know we are not here for marriage or swoon-worthy kisses or romance of any kind,” Aniri said. “Our mission is espionage. And I imagine we will need your skills if we are to find the Jungali’s secret flying machine for the Queen.”

  “Oh.” Priya’s mouth still formed the circle of that word long after sound stopped coming out.

  Aniri grinned, then turned to Janak and gestured to the box splayed before him. “What is this device?” The mechanism had concentric wheels, a small crank, gears throughout, and a series of keys with odd shaped symbols. She couldn’t discern the function of any part of it.

  “This is your mother’s aetheroceiver.”

  Aniri nodded. She knew of the devices, of course, but she had never seen one. There were only a few, and the Queen restricted their use to those who had need of them. Janak proceeded to fold up various flaps and hinged parts, tucking them neatly inside one another like nested boxes, until the entire thing collapsed into a rectangular box no bigger than her feet put together. There seemed no obvious way to make it come back apart again.

  “In the event that something happens to me, princess, I want you to know how to open and operate it yourself.”

  Aniri nodded gravely, not missing Janak’s dark undertone. He always believed the world was one breath away from catastrophe, but in this case, the danger they faced if the prince discovered their true intentions was probably high enough to warrant it.