Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Aniri kept her hood up, face nearly obscured, even though she and the prince were inside a shadowy inn of very dubious patronage, and the dim gaslamps barely gave off enough light to see the rough floor beneath her boots. They had arrived in Mahet, and it appeared they were staying the night. The prince insisted it wasn’t safe for her to room separately, and the innkeeper only spared her a glance or two while the prince made arrangements. Rooming together would invite extra scrutiny for the prince’s mysterious female companion, but she was beyond arguing with the prince about things which weren’t absolutely necessary.

  The tiny establishment was inside the Mahet capital, but just barely, wedged against the perimeter granite walls and sandwiched between a stable and a butcher where animal carcasses competed with the raw manure from the stable for the most offensive smell. The fact that the innkeeper appeared to know the prince and asked few questions told her the prince made a habit of traveling along unconventional routes. He offered to carry her parcel, but she insisted on keeping it, afraid he would detect the heavy weight of the aetheroceiver inside the small trunk.

  The prince marched ahead of her, with the innkeeper ahead of him, slipping surreptitious looks back at her, in spite of the extra bills she saw the prince slip to him, no doubt to keep his silence. What must he think? That the prince was having a secret affair on top of his recently revealed secret affair with her, the Princess of Dharia? What must the people think of their young sovereign? Or did his people indulge their young prince, recently bereft of his mother and brother both? She couldn’t tell, because the innkeeper kept his thoughts to himself as he unlocked a room on the highest floor, three levels up and with a view of the dark cobbled road below. There weren’t even gaslamps to light the way, only dim flickerings in the few cottages down the street, probably out of range of the stench. There was no one to see her standing at the window of their room, but just in case, Aniri pulled the curtains tight.

  The prince was busy lighting a fire in the fireplace, but she kept her cloak in place. The outside chill pervaded the room, and a fine layer of grit lay on the neatly made bed dominating the center of the room, as if no one had occupied it in a very long time. She eyed it warily, wondering about the prince’s intentions only for a moment. Surely he would offer to take the floor. Or the heavy chair by the fireplace, but that didn’t look to offer any more comfort. By all rights, she should be the one sleeping on the floor, but she was sure he wouldn’t allow it. The privy was down the hall, but she wasn’t much inclined to use it, either to change or to use the facilities. She was cold enough that sleeping in her traveling clothes, cloak and all, might be the best option.

  A small flame flickered in the fireplace, adding a bit of light if not yet warmth. The weak shadows it cast competed with the single gaslamp by the bed, somehow increasing the gloom by making the shadows move. The prince stood, clearly proud of his accomplishment.

  He turned to her. “Are you ready for bed, Princess?” His face was cloaked in shadows, but she heard implications in his question that she chose to ignore.

  “I may need to warm myself first.” She rubbed her arms over her coat and drifted to where he stood by the fireplace. “Is there any hope for heat from this tonight?”

  He glanced at the bed. Now that she was closer, she could tell he was holding back a smile. “Whatever wicked thoughts you’re having, Prince Malik, be out with them already.”

  “My honor, your majesty!” He threw a hand over his heart. “You tarnish it with your implications.”

  “Please.” But she couldn’t help a small smile. “Your honor was tarnished as soon as we walked into this inn together.”

  He grinned widely. “Perhaps that was my intention all along.”

  “How many pretend lovers do you wish to have, Prince Malik?”

  His grin tempered. “I am getting quite a reputation, the more time I spend with you, Princess Aniri. Apparently I’m the kind of sovereign who sneaks off for secret trysts with all manner of women in all kinds of exotic locales, even the rather smelly side of Mahet.” She turned away from his devilish grin and held her still-gloved hands out to the fire. There was still no discernible heat from it.

  The bed let out an ominous creak as the prince bounded onto it. Aniri gave him a startled look, at once amazed that the ancient bed, which was probably stuffed with straw rather than a proper feather mattress, held up to his abuse at all, and doubly amazed he was in it. He patted the tattered bed covering next to him and arched his eyebrows, his grin still demonic.

  “I suppose I’m sleeping on the floor, then,” Aniri said coldly, turning back to the fireplace and wondering how close she could sleep to it without running the danger of catching on fire. She cast about for at least a blanket to keep her warm, but there was only the bedding on the decrepit mattress behind her, which creaked again as the prince rose from it. Aniri grabbed hold of the heavy wooden chair and dragged it toward the fireplace, but only succeeded in moving it an inch or two before the prince arrived to help. The thing was ancient, with carved wooden arms and a straw-filled cushion, which probably weighed as much as the wood. It smelled of dewy must and horses.

  The prince smiled softly when she finally met his gaze, the firelight dancing orange flickers across his face. “I can see you’re not much for humor right now, Aniri. Please excuse my sad attempts at it.”

  She stood straight and tried to relax her shoulders, not sure why they were so tense. Then she gestured to the chair. “I’ll be fine here. It looks comfortable enough.”

  The prince looked askance at it. “It looks like it’s fit for the stable, but I’ll manage what sleep I can with it.” He slipped between the narrow spot between the chair and the fire, taking a seat and stretching his boots out so they nearly touched the growing flames of the log he had set.

  Aniri just stared at him. He was honorable through and through, and gentle with her as well, even when she mostly deserved his scorn for deceiving him. By all rights, he should have thrown her in the dungeon or whatever cell he kept for traitors and spies. Instead, he was taking a tremendous risk to show her his top military secrets and allowing her to sleep unmolested on the only bed in their chamber in the process. She felt... unworthy. Like it shamed her to be near someone with such a keen moral compass. In all her time at her mother’s court, filled with intrigue and pandering courtesans, she wasn’t quite sure if she had ever met someone so thoroughly good.

  She unstrapped the dagger belted to her waist and set it on a small table by the fireplace. “I don’t deserve the bed, Prince Malik.”

  “True,” he said with a straight face, examining the fire, then tilted a grin up to her. “But someone must sleep in it, or the rumors won’t be nearly as convincing.”

  She shook her head and leaned against the stone facing of the fireplace. A small drift of heat snuck past the toes of her boots and crawled up her leggings underneath the cloak. “Will we reach Sik province on the morrow?” she asked.

  “Yes. The skyship is hidden in a ravine to the north in the farthest reach of the province, not far from the navia mines. We will have to travel by shashee for the last leg of our trip. If we’re lucky, we’ll arrive before General Garesh can travel back from the engagement party.”

  “If he finds you, it will go badly for you.” This concern weighed heavier on her than she expected.

  “Then we’d best take care not to be found.” The prince stretched his arms, then laced his hands behind his head. He was still wrapped in his long, dark jacket with the bronze clasps along the top, but he had left his dagger by the bed, and his hood was thrown back. Flickers of firelight streaked his hair with orange, and his amber eyes shone in the dim light as he stared at the fire.

  “I could go alone,” Aniri said.

  The prince turned to her, his gaze slicing through the dark. His eyebrows lifted subtly. “I forgot. You’re a spy.” A hint of smile came out. “But I doubt you have experience navigating Sik security in secret retrenchments in the frozen mou
ntains of the north.”

  The heat from the fire was wafting stronger under her coat now. She unbuckled it, letting it hang loose. “Even if General Garesh has not returned,” she reasoned, “surely the people will recognize you.”

  He touched his hood. “I will be as unobtrusive as possible.”

  “You will be recognized. Word will return to General Garesh. You said he has been looking for a way to arrest you. If you accompany me, it will be even more obvious that you have been the one to secret me to the skyship’s hiding place. Perhaps we can observe it from a safe distance.”

  “They’ve built a special encasement that spans the ravine,” he said. “It’s an engineering marvel, truly, and wouldn’t be possible without the Samirian engineers. But you cannot see anything until you get inside.”

  Aniri held her jacket open. The fire had finally blazed up, and it quickly had become almost too hot to bear. “Then take me close, and let me go the remainder of the way. I only need to see the skyship to know for certain you are telling the truth, no more.”

  He shook his head. “I can hardly let you go alone, Princess. You will need someone to ensure you are safe. The last thing we can afford at this point is for you to be caught infiltrating the skyship hideaway.”

  Aniri sighed in frustration, putting her hands on her hips. Realizing she was still armed with her saber—her father’s sword—she decided to make her point that way. She quickly reached inside and drew her sword. With a quick arc overhead, she brought it down to point at the prince’s heart. He jerked at her sudden movement, his hands becoming unlaced from behind his head. The razor sharp tip was a good foot away from his body, putting him in no danger.

  “I am capable of defending myself.”

  “I see,” he said with a small smile and a luxurious look along the length of her blade. “I shall have to reconsider my plans to steal into your bed later this eve.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him and slowly withdrew her weapon, steadying its blade in the air between them, before sheathing it again.

  He relaxed but didn’t fold his hands behind his head, instead running a hand across his face. “If you are caught, I will be forced to come after you.”

  “Then I will be certain to not get caught,” she countered with a smirk.

  He shook his head but didn’t argue. Suddenly he leaped up and lunged for her, catching her around the waist and pulling her to him. She instinctively pushed against him, but he held her firmly, then beat at her legs. Only after a moment, did she realize what he was doing. Part of her cloak had caught fire, and he was beating it with his bare hands. She froze, rigid against him, letting him put the last of the embers out by striking her leg, none too softly.

  When he stood, his face was flushed, and she could see a roil of emotions playing across it. He still held her close around the waist.

  “Thank you,” Aniri said, breathless, her face close to his. There was a warm flush through her body which had nothing to do with the heat of the fire, and she was glad for the dark that covered her blush at having him hold her so intimately.

  “Trying to save you from fire is becoming a habit of mine.” His face relaxed, and a small smile returned as he released her. Aniri tried to ignore the feeling that she didn’t want him to let her go. Then he shook his head. “This seems like a very bad idea, you going alone, Aniri. I don’t like the odds on it.”

  She straightened, trying to banish the still-traveling flush that warmed her body. “If you’re lying to me and hauling me out to the frozen north to see nothing at all, then I’m in trouble regardless. But if you’re telling me the truth, and this skyship really exists, then we need you to stay out of General Garesh’s cells. And we both need to return to Bajir to find a way to ensure peace. That won’t be possible if you are caught. If I’m caught, well, the Princess of Dharia will have turned out to be untrustworthy after all. You’ll need every bit of help you can get to defeat your own general, and that is where Dharia might actually be able to help.”

  “Not if their princess is being held prisoner by General Garesh.”

  “Especially if the Third Daughter of the Queen is being held by a general in the mountains of Jungali,” Aniri said. “I promise you, Prince Malik, my mother will not stand for that. And I will let her know who her true allies are.” She tried to muster the confidence she should have in those words, but she wasn’t at all sure the Queen would come after her. She hadn’t gone after her father’s killers, and he hadn’t disappointed her the way Aniri had.

  The prince smiled. “Well, if she’s anything like her daughter, I certainly would not want to cross her.”

  Aniri resisted smiling in return. Her mother was not like her. If it served Dharia, the Queen would abandon her to the barbarians in the freezing mountains. Aniri had brought the Queen’s aetheroceiver, but any messages at this point might work their way back to Janak, who would surely come after her and ruin any chance she had at discovering the skyship—and whether or not Devesh had told her the truth about the Samirians.

  She might be caught by General Garesh and hung for treason, but that was a risk she knew going into this. With a distasteful glance at her singed black coat—it was fortunate the burnt portion did not stand out—Aniri turned to claim the bed for the night, ignoring thoughts of Prince Malik just recently in it.

  She would need her rest for a day that might be her last.

  The shashee stable housed at least twenty of the beasts, all snuffling out mist in the crisp morning air. The mountains loomed over their stable, like Devpahar herself accepting their vaporous offerings in return for safe travels. Aniri was thankful the cold contained the stench of the stable—which was more than she could say for the stable owner. He was as wide as he was tall, covered in a vast furry wrap that smelled like damp shashee. He lumbered like his beasts, but his disposition was nowhere near as gentle or calm as the creatures he tended.

  “Twenty yakles,” he said to Aniri. It was as much grunt as words.

  Prince Malik was doing his best to hide under his hood by pretending to examine a selection of tapping canes hanging on the wall. They both had acquired new coats over their hooded cloaks—a tan hide of some kind, trimmed in fur at the hood and sleeves. According to the prince, the overcoats would disguise them as Sik traders, and they were definitely suited to the frigid mountain weather, if less so for stealth. Although she supposed camouflage was a relative thing.

  Aniri had no idea if twenty yakles was excessive for a day’s shashee rental. “Twenty?” she said, aghast. “Is there no law against robbery here in Sik province?”

  The stable owner huffed and crossed his arms across the expanse of his chest. He only managed to reach far enough to tuck his hands under his armpits. “Nineteen.”

  “Sixteen.” She cast a look over the beasts as they shifted in their pens, the thin rails too frail to keep them quartered if they had any mind to leave. But they seemed content to stay, huddled together no doubt for warmth. “And don’t give me the sickly one in the middle.” She gestured with her chin. She had no idea if there were any sick shashee, but with the size of the herd, there must be one lesser among them. Her hair blew slightly in a gust of air from the open door of the stable shop. She had bound it in a braid, but the double hoods of her cloak and the overcoat had worked it loose. She probably looked as bedraggled as the shaggy beasts.

  “Seventeen,” the stable owner said, “and no lower. And you will have to use ring saddle. No carriages today.”

  “Deal.” Aniri had no idea what a ring saddle was, but it would have to do. The prince said they weren’t going far. The round man shuffled off to find their mount, and Prince Malik drifted her way once he was out the door.

  “Princess, spy, and experienced tradeswoman,” he said from under his hood, still up. “Is there no end to your talents?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

  “I’m fairly certain we were robbed.”

  The prince paused a beat. “Actually, I think you got quite the deal.
I think he was intimidated by your beauty.”

  Aniri just shook her head. “Please tell me a ring saddle isn’t going to present a problem.”

  “We only have about an hour journey. I think I can tolerate sharing a shashee with you for that long.” He grinned, then ducked his head as the stable owner’s heavy footfalls sounded outside. The prince slipped a few paper bills into her hand. Keeping his back to the owner, the prince shuffled into the sunshine outside. A young stableboy clad in heavy coats brought the animal to him for inspection.

  The stable owner beckoned her to come outside as well. The weathered, grayish beast he had selected for them had clumps of fur that hung below its massive chin. The “saddle” was barely more than a brilliant red blanket draped across the animal’s back and looked more to protect it from the cold than to hold them securely to its back. In fact, it looked as though a good wind could lift it clean free. A shape under the blanket formed a ring of sorts, and sat between the hump at the rear and the massive shoulders in front.

  The stableboy tapped his cane on the animal’s nose, bringing it to a stop, then fetched a stepladder that reached halfway up the beast’s side. It didn’t seem nearly enough, but the prince quickly climbed the steps and grabbed hold of something hidden under the blanket. Then he miraculously flung himself up onto the animal’s back, landing perfectly in the saddle.

  Aniri just stared.

  She could see the grin under his hood, so she strode forward, determined to at least appear she knew what she was doing. She shoved the bills into the fat hand of the stable owner and gamely climbed the steps, but when she reached the top, she couldn’t tell what she was supposed to do next. The prince reached down and grasped her arm, so she grabbed onto his rough hide sleeve and tried to leap up on the beast. She only made it halfway, but the prince managed to haul her up the rest. The saddle was smaller than it looked, forcing her forward into the dip at the center. She couldn’t help but sit pressed against the prince’s back. Their bulky Sik overcoats provided plenty of padding between them, and her thin leather gloves gave her some sense of propriety, but it still felt strangely intimate.