Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  She sucked in a breath that probably sounded like a gasp. “Prince Malik.” Was he saying he was in love with her? How could that be? The ghost of their kiss brushed her lips. That had been… something more than a feigned affection. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

  “No, Aniri, stop.” He brought her hand to his lips again, effectively freezing her words in her throat. When he released her, it felt strange to have her hand back. “I am true to my word, if nothing else. I just... I simply wanted you to know. And, in the future, perhaps it would be best if we avoided any more kisses.”

  He gave her a sad smile, and it broke something loose inside her. The circumstances he thought he was in… to be trapped in a loveless marriage when you actually loved the person you were bound to... she shuddered with the thought. It compelled her to speak.

  “I’m not deserving of any feelings you may have for me, Ash.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Her heart beat hard against her ribs. There was no reason for him to say he cared for her, unless it was actually true. And if he cared, she couldn’t believe he would hurt her. “You… you don’t need to worry. I’m not going to trap you in a loveless marriage.” She knew he would let her return safely to Dharia; he had offered as much before.

  “You’ve changed your mind.” His face fell. “You’re not going through with the wedding.”

  That look tore into her, and suddenly she couldn’t bear the idea of him holding more pain inside than he already had. If she was going to desert him—and his attempts at peace—he at least deserved to know why. She couldn’t believe she was going to say this, in spite of all Devesh’s words and warnings, but she knew in her heart that Ash would never hurt her.

  “I know the truth.”

  He looked confused. “The truth about what?”

  “About the flying machine.” She swallowed. “I know it doesn’t exist.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “As I’ve been telling you from the beginning—”

  “Yes, but now I know for sure. And so my mission here is done. I’m going to return to Dharia.”

  His face grew cold. “Your mission.”

  The pounding of her heart grew, like a small beast was tearing her up from the inside out. “I’m sorry, Ash. I never meant for you to...” Words had deserted her.

  Realization dawned on his face. “You were only here to find out if the rumors were true.”

  His disgust made her throat close up. Of course she had lied to him. And now it was worse: he had feelings she not only wasn’t going to return, but she would ruin all hope for the peace he had worked so hard for. Whatever nobility he thought she might have, clearly he was mistaken.

  “Ash, I’m sorry,” she said again. “When I agreed to this, I didn’t know about your brother and how you were trying to hold the provinces together. I wish I could help, but I can’t—”

  “But you can’t give up your future for something as simple as peace among the barbarians.” His voice was so cold it made her shudder.

  “I want peace as much as you do!” She hated the look he was giving her, like his first impression had been right all along. “I’ve been here, all this time, because I thought if I could just learn the truth about the flying machine, I could avoid this,”—she motioned to him, their marriage, the whole arrangement—“this thing neither of us wants, not if it’s not necessary. I was trying to find peace by finding the truth about the flying machine.”

  He scowled. “And what makes you so sure the flying machine doesn’t exist?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again; she couldn’t endanger Devesh as well. “I know the truth. You can’t lie to me now.” She dropped her gaze because she couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. “I told you from the beginning, Prince Malik. I’m afraid you’re much more noble than I am.” She forced herself to look up. “In fact, I’m counting on it with my life. If I believed you were merely orchestrating this to hold me hostage, a prisoner to be used against Dharia—”

  “That is what you think?” He was truly horrified, and Aniri felt another stab for even entertaining the thought.

  “No, I don’t. Everything I’ve seen shows you’re nothing but a man of honor. Someone Dharia should be proud to be allied with. But I understand you’ve made this… this alliance… with Samir.”

  He grimaced.

  “And now that Dharia knows the flying machine is a ruse, maybe we will be at war soon enough. But for now, I want you to know the truth. I truly was trying to find a way for peace between our nations. And I trust you are a good and decent man who won’t make me pay for that with my life. That you’ll let me return home now, because that is my wish, Prince Malik. Please.”

  His face softened, wounded, and she felt doubly awful. This was a mistake. Even if he didn’t mean any harm to her—which she still couldn’t imagine—she could have snuck out in the dead of night and at least avoided seeing the disappointment in his face.

  “The flying machine exists, Aniri.”

  “Ash, please—”

  “I can prove it to you.”

  She looked up from her twisting hands. “What?” Her heart seized. Was this some kind of trick? But there was no need for that. She had truly thrown herself on his mercy, trusting his noble heart not to kill her for it. If he wanted to lock her in a cell, he could. Or he could keep her in velvet chains in this room, sequestered, cut off from anyone in Dharia as long as he wished. So he had no reason to lie to her now.

  “I can take you to see it.” His voice was cool, his eyes measuring her.

  Her mouth didn’t seem to function for a moment, and then she said, “Why would you do that?”

  “Because, Aniri, I think you are much more noble than you believe. And I think, once you know all of the truth, that you might be willing to help me.”

  She swallowed. There was no way she could refuse. As soon as he offered the chance to see the machine, she knew she would take it. Because if it were actually true—if the flying machine actually did exist—then it would mean one simple thing: everything Devesh had told her was a lie.

  And that was something she had to know.

  Within an hour, Aniri and the prince were leaving Bajir, traveling north by cable carriage. The outside air grew colder as they flew toward the frozen peaks, but that wasn’t why Aniri wore a long black cloak, buttoned tight, with a voluminous hood that covered her hair and shadowed her face.

  The prince insisted they travel incognito as much as possible.

  No one would mistake her for a princess, that much was certain. A female mercenary, perhaps, or a well-armed trader. Her rough canvas pants were tucked into black boots, and the cuffs of her coat were coarse leather, clamped around her forearms. She possessed a dagger strapped at her hip and her father’s saber hidden in the long drape of her cloak.

  The prince was similarly dressed, only he carried a small pistol in full view over his jacket.

  Their carriage sailed over trees frosted with cold, but it was still warm inside the carriage from its time in the stationhouse. They had already passed through two trading stations, each less populated than the last. These cable routes seemed less traveled than the main arteries into Bajir, but even so, the prince was still recognized. However, the station attendants only raised an eyebrow at his female companion before waving them through. Although the rumors were rampant about the love affair raging between the Prince of Jungali and the Princess of Dharia, apparently her face was much less well known.

  The two of them didn’t speak when other travelers were present. Their carriage was now headed for the province of Mahet. The sun had started to dip, and she didn’t know if they would be staying in Mahet or traveling farther on. But she certainly wouldn’t be in Bajir at midnight, meeting Devesh at the Samirian embassy.

  Her heart twisted, but her mission was still in play—to gain the truth about the flying machine—and Prince Malik seemed determined to take her straight to it. Unless this was some elaborate dece
ption she couldn’t quite parse. If the prince wanted her dead, he could have accomplished that without dragging her to a distant Jungali province. Devesh said not to trust the prince, but she had already trusted him with her life. And she was still alive.

  Would Devesh even be in Bajir when she returned? He may have decided she didn’t love him and left Jungali altogether. He could return to his Samirian homeland and wait out the war with Dharia he said was coming. Or maybe he would be found out. Certainly, the ambassador would not be pleased he had leaked the Samirian’s top-secret war plans to her.

  Or everything he told her could be a lie.

  Aniri had brought her mother’s aetheroceiver in her small traveling case. In the event they ran into trouble, she could send one more message home before her demise. Janak would be furious about her taking off to find the skyship with the prince, which was why she hadn’t told him where she was going. Plus he would have insisted on coming along or done everything in his power to stop her. Neither of which served her purpose.

  She and the prince were the only passengers in the carriage now. The coal-smoke of the station washed away as they sailed higher into the air. The waning light turned the broad-leafed trees below them a darkish red. The prince seemed to relax a little compared to the brusque efficiency of before, transferring them from station to station and keeping silent in between.

  He turned away from the landscape and finally spoke. “I asked Nisha to spread the tale that we’ve gone off for a lover’s retreat, just the two of us. It’s contrary to our custom, but the people already believe we have been meeting in secret before. We’re supposedly in the Rajan province, taking in the high plateau wildflowers in a mountain retreat away from prying eyes.”

  Aniri nodded. “Does Nisha believe the rumor?”

  “She didn’t ask if it was true,” he said cryptically. He leaned against a bronze railing that ran the perimeter of the carriage and returned to staring at the forests below.

  Not wanting to lose her chance at more information, Aniri pressed on. “Can you tell me something about this mysterious flying machine? I have to say, I’m impressed already with your cable carriages. No offense, but before I arrived, I didn’t think the Jungali were so advanced in technology.”

  He didn’t look at her. “We carefully cultivate a reputation of inferiority.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  He smirked and slid her a glance. “I am making a joke, Aniri.”

  “Oh.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Much of our technology comes in our trade relations with Samir. Their metalworking knowledge is superior to ours, but we have trace minerals that are essential to giving the processed metal ore from the Samirian mountains the kind of strength necessary to hold up our cable carriages.” He pointed to the giant ironwork man holding the cables aloft as it approached their carriage. “There are many ways in which the partnership is beneficial. But it was one of our own Jungali miners who discovered the navia.”

  “Navia?” Aniri’s heart took a leap. That was the term in Prince Malik’s aetheroceiver message, the one he still didn’t know she had read.

  “Navia is the lighter than air gas that makes it possible to build the flying machine in the first place. The gas is used to inflate a giant bag, which then allows the ship to float.”

  “Like a child’s fire light?” Sometimes, especially at traditional festivals, children in Dharia would stretch thin tissues over a lightweight cage of folded paper. A small paper bowl would dangle below it, filled with kindling. As long as the kindling burned and heated the air, the paper cage would rise. Eventually the entire ensemble would flame out in a puff of smoke that would drift on the winds.

  “It’s not unlike a fire light in basic construction,” the prince said. “Except the gas within the bag is not heated air, but lighter-than-air navia instead.”

  “You said you mine this navia out of the ground?” Aniri asked. “So it is a rock?”

  “Actually it is a gas trapped within the rock. When it is crushed or heated, the navia is released. We capture it, then fill the skyship with it.”

  “Skyship.” Aniri rolled the term around on her tongue. It was fitting. “A ship that sails through the sky. Does it look like a trade ship?” Her curiosity piqued now, and she forgot for a moment that she should be skeptical of the skyship’s very existence. But the way the prince spoke of it, so concretely, with such assurance, she couldn’t help but think of it as real.

  “You’ll see when we get to Sik.”

  “I wondered where you would have hidden the flying machine—the skyship—but I would never have guessed Sik province. Isn’t that General Garesh’s province?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s where we’re going?”

  “I didn’t say it would be a safe voyage, princess.” He gave her shrewd look. “Only that I could show you the machine.”

  “Does he know we’re coming?”

  Prince Malik gestured to their hoods and weapons.

  Aniri guessed not. “But you’re still the Prince of Jungali. Surely you can visit your own skyship if you choose. Is it just because I am along to see it as well?”

  Prince Malik shook his head and sighed. “My brother was the spearhead for the initial design of the skyship. He was the first to see the potential, as soon as the navia was discovered. It was his dream—he wanted to see Jungali an equal among the nations of our world, not just a group of warring provinces and backwater barbarians. He saw it as our ticket into equal status, a power to be respected, but above all, he saw it as a way to bring even more trade deep into the mountains. He liked to say it would make our world smaller.”

  “I… never thought of it that way.” And she hadn’t. She had only conceived of the flying ship as a weapon, a threat to Dharia, even when it was only a bare rumor she hadn’t paid much attention to. Which a skyship certainly could be, if it existed. Would be, in anyone else’s hands. She had that peculiar shame again, like the prince and his thoughts were instinctively more noble than hers. She hadn’t even imagined the Jungali could want something more than war for their own nation. And she had taken for granted the status of her country, not realizing that others—the Samirians as well as the Jungali—might want also want the respect Dharia commanded.

  “Tosh had wonderful plans,” the prince continued. “From the beginning, he fought with Garesh, who saw only the military potential. When my brother died, and the Queen soon after… I’m not just trying to honor the peace he was working toward, Aniri. I’m doing everything I can to make his dreams come true with the skyship he built. The last thing I want is to destroy the ship, but I need to gain the crown before I can make it bend to the purpose my brother originally intended. For now, the last person the general wants to see at the airharbor is me. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s looking for a reason to have me arrested, no matter how thin the charge. If I were to bring a Dharian, before we are officially wed, to see our most secret military weapon… well, that would surely qualify.”

  She stared at him. “You’re taking a risk in showing this to me.”

  He looked out over the forest to the distant horizon, which included several peaks shrouded in clouds. Although the farther north they traveled, those peaks seemed less high. “In more ways than one, Princess.”

  She crossed the small stretch of carriage between them and touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Tell me.”

  He gritted his teeth, then turned to her. “For one, I think the general is behind the attempt on your life. For another, you may decide to simply take this information back to Dharia, rendering the skyship less effective in a military sense. Although, honestly, I would welcome that at this point. At least it would reduce the skyship’s usefulness as a weapon of surprise. Does that make me a traitor, Aniri?”

  “No,” she said, and meant it. “It makes you someone committed to peace.” And she believed that, too. Devesh’s words were still in her mind, but they had slunk into a dark cor
ner to fester amongst themselves. Whatever the truth of the skyship—whether it existed or was merely some deranged figment of the prince’s imagination—he truly believed in peace and was trying to pursue it. She didn’t doubt that in the slightest.

  The prince looked back at the horizon. “Sometimes I wonder.” Strangely, as convinced as she was of his intent, the prince seemed to doubt it himself. “General Garesh may be right. Perhaps I’m too soft to be a leader for a mountainous people whose only strategic advantage is that of a quilled rodent you can’t get hold of. Maybe I should seize the one offensive advantage we would finally have in this weapon.”

  “I don’t believe you truly mean that,” Aniri said softly.

  He took a breath and turned back to her, a small smile on his face. “Which is why I’m taking the risk of bringing you with me, Aniri.”

  She shook her head and leaned slightly away. “I still don’t understand why you trust me. I lied to you.” She shrugged, hands out. “About practically everything.”

  “You did.” He smirked. “And rather convincingly, too.”

  Aniri flinched, his remark far too close to Devesh’s accusation in the privy about her performance in kissing the prince. That she was skilled in lying was not a tremendous shock—she had been raised in the Queen’s court after all—but it bothered her that the prince would know this about her. Which struck her as strange in itself.

  “Maybe I am too soft-hearted, just as General Garesh believes.” The prince’s smirk softened into a shy smile. “But I still believe the woman who left her home on the plains in search of peace for her country is worth taking a risk for.”

  Aniri felt heat creep up her neck. “I think you need to read less poetry, Prince Malik.”

  He laughed and returned his sight to the horizon. “You’re probably right.”

  She left him to his thoughts for the rest of the trip into Mahet, not wanting to push that line of reasoning too far. She was simply thankful he trusted her enough to take her to see the skyship, whatever his reasons.