Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  He had come undercover, not as a prince, but as a tinker.

  She stepped closer and whispered, “You came for me.” There was wonder in her voice and in her mind.

  He glanced at the book dangling from her hand and smiled. “I was certain you had the situation well in hand, but Priya insisted you might need help.”

  She shook her head. “But… you didn’t have to...” Somehow he’d found out where she was. But why would he risk everything to come after her? He could have let Garesh have her. He could have embraced the inevitable war with Dharia and still retained the throne. He didn’t have to risk the crown to rescue her. “Why are you here?” she finally asked.

  The merriment left his face. “Aniri.” He stepped closer. “I couldn’t let you pay for my mistakes.”

  “Mistakes?” she asked, even more confused.

  “Soon after you went missing, Garesh brought the skyship to Bajir, along with half his military, preaching about a new day for Jungali. It was impossible to make a move against him. I searched for you, hoping we might marry and stop him. When I couldn’t find you, I thought... I thought you had changed your mind. When I found he had taken you prisoner, I was maddeningly trapped. If I demanded your release, Garesh would trumpet you as a spy and use it to justify attacking Dharia. And probably kill you as well... Aniri, you’re only here because I didn’t force Garesh to relinquish the ship when I had the chance.”

  “Forcing the issue would have just pitched the provinces against each other, with your brother’s skyship in the middle.” She almost told him Garesh had murdered his brother, but she stopped herself: it would only pull open the wound further, and now was not the time. “You were working for peace. We both were.”

  “I had no right to drag you into this.” His voice was pained. “I knew Garesh was bent on war. I should have fought to destroy the skyship before he turned it into this...” He gestured to the window where wisps of smoke filtered through the air around the ship. “...this abomination that’s going to kill who knows how many people. I wanted so badly to honor my brother’s death, to use his skyship for peace, that I was blinded to the true threat Garesh posed. I should have stopped him, or at least tried. Even if I lost the crown, I could have destroyed the ship. Now... I’ve only endangered you and your people and given Garesh exactly what he wants: to turn Jungali into a military power that can wage a horrific war on its enemies. I’m the one who should pay the price for that mistake, not you, Aniri.”

  A flush of warmth filled her. He had come for her, risking everything to save her, to save her people, and to stop one of his own. He hadn’t abandoned her for what was easy; he hadn’t left her to fight this alone. She dropped the book to the floor and slid her bandaged hands to his cheeks, pulling him down to crash her lips to his. They were warm and soft, and his cheeks were hot against her fingertips. Craving welled up in her, a desire to run her hands through his hair, across his shoulders… she pulled back quickly, shocked by its intensity. His eyes were wide and questioning, and she cringed, suddenly unsure if he had even wanted her kiss.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed. I just—”

  He stopped her with a leather-gloved hand soft on her cheek. His bare thumb ran lightly across her lips. It felt like a kiss had been painted there, igniting something deep inside her. She leaned into his hand.

  He teetered on the edge of moving closer. “We haven’t time for…” He stared at her lips, as if contemplating replacing his feather touch with something stronger. Then he pulled his gaze up to meet hers. “We’re expected in the engine room.”

  She gave him a tentative smile and pulled back slightly. “I’ll have to thank you later, then.”

  A smile lit his face. His hand left her cheek, slowly, in a caress full of meaning.

  Then he pushed back the hanging edge of his trenchcoat—underneath were two swords, both sheathed and buckled over his tinker tools. He worked one loose and handed it to her. “Garesh’s Samirian sailors may yet kill us all. You’ll have need of this, I imagine.”

  Only when it was in her hand did she recognize the jeweled hilt of her father’s saber. She held it for a moment, staring at it, then looked up at him.

  “Ash...”

  “Priya told me.” His soft smile said he knew about her father. “You’re not him, Aniri. You’re better than that. You always have been, though I don’t think you’ve ever seen it. And just because he ran away doesn’t mean there aren’t still things left worth fighting for.”

  He smiled, then glanced down at the threshold of the door. Only then did Aniri notice the guard lying on the floor right outside. Ash hooked his hands under the inert guard’s arms. As he dragged the guard into the captain’s quarters, Aniri pulled herself together and buckled on her sword. She didn’t know how much Ash knew about… everything. Priya had obviously told him something. Perhaps many somethings. Aniri would have to query her handmaiden at length when this was done.

  When Ash stood, she looked up steadily into his eyes. “I’m going to stop Garesh from burning down my home or die trying.”

  He smirked. “That wouldn’t make for much of a rescue, my lady.”

  She grimaced. She didn’t know what his plan was, but being rescued was not her top priority. “I believe you said something about the engine room?”

  He tilted his head toward the door, and she followed him out of the captain’s cabin, determined to stop Garesh. Even if it meant taking her father’s sword to the gasbag, slicing it open, going down with the ship.

  The corridor outside the captain’s room was narrow, with tubing that brought the ceiling low, and handrails that crowded the walls. Aniri kept one hand on the cool brass rail—her legs were still a bit unsteady, and the bumps in the air continued to make the ship sway unexpectedly. The captain bunked near his sailors if the string of narrow doors along the hall were any indication. The doors had drifted open, but there were no occupants.

  “Where are all the sailors?” Aniri asked.

  “In the engine room or on the bridge,” Ash said. “The skyship is flying light on crew.” He threw a smirk back to her as they crept down the corridor. “Capturing you forced Garesh to move up his plans, and that gash you made left them low on navia. The only way he could get the skyship in the air was with minimal crew. That’s one reason I delayed coming for you until we’d gone aloft.”

  “Because there would be less sailors?”

  “Less armed guards. Garesh had to leave most of his military forces in Bajir.” Prince Malik pressed a finger to his lips as they stepped over the threshold of a bulkhead door. The layout of the ship reminded Aniri of a Samirian submarine she had once toured: she was ten and her father had brought her on the tour in one of his many official duties. It was only a few weeks before he died. Ran away, she reminded herself.

  She gripped the railing of a metal-grated staircase and followed Ash down. He was well camouflaged as a tinker, including black swipes of soot across his face—the Samirian sailors might not recognize him, but they had to know she was a prisoner on the ship. Or did they? How long had she been out?

  “How did you know Garesh captured me?” Aniri asked in a whisper. The thrumming of the engines grew louder as they descended, vibrating her hand through the metal railing.

  Ash didn’t answer, just darted looks around and beckoned her down another flight of stairs. When they reached the bottom, he pulled her close enough to be heard over the engine noise emanating from down the corridor. She could count the inches between their faces. His nearness made the air thick.

  “Priya insisted you wouldn’t run off without telling her,” he said quietly. “I knew something was wrong. The Samirian embassy had no record of you visiting, but someone must have seen you because word got back to one of our tinkers that the captain was keeping the Princess of Dharia captive in his quarters. It seems you’ve won over the hearts of more than just my people.”

  “Well, Garesh certainly isn’t counted among them,” she said ruefull
y. “How long have I been under the vapors he used on me? It was nighttime when he knocked me out at the embassy.”

  “You were missing for a day when Garesh arrived with the skyship.” Ash tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, lingering his hand there. “It was another day before we discovered what had happened. Our tinker couldn’t get you off the ship without the contingent of Garesh’s guards stopping him, so he arranged to get us onboard as tinkers instead. We had to wait until we set sail to come for you.” He gestured down the empty corridor with his chin. “We need to hurry, Aniri. They won’t wait much longer for us.”

  “Who?”

  “Our spies in the engine room.” Ash took her hand. “I’ll fill you in as we go. Just follow my lead.” He tugged her through another bulkhead door, and the sound of the engines grew. This corridor had only a single door in the middle. The prince dropped her hand when he reached it. He pushed it open, and she followed close behind.

  The two-story room hummed with energy, sound, and activity. Two great brass engines hissed with steam fed from twin massive boilers, one on each side of the room. Soot choked the air, and the sulphurous smell of burning coal singed her nose. Two crewmen, one at each boiler, fed shovels full of broken coal bits into the furnace, sweat drenching their tinker outfits and soot smearing their faces. Light filtered through the dusty air, streaming from the windows above the grinding engines. Just outside, a blur of propeller blades drove the skyship through the heavens.

  Perhaps a dozen engine room workers were stationed at the control panels, reading needle gauges or scribbling notes on tiny pads or attending to the machines with wrenches. They all wore the same uniform as Ash: laced boots and suspendered work shirts. A large man with an instrumented leather armband was directing them in their duties. She could see some of the worker’s faces, but others were turned away, focused on their work. Which were the spies? And what was Ash’s plan?

  He stood by her side, just inside the door, and motioned to a couple of workers to their right. Then the large man in charge caught notice of them. In a few long strides, he closed the distance between them. Aniri’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized his overly broad chest, meaty hands, and quick, intelligent eyes.

  “Karan,” she said, a half gasp sucking in air. She darted a look to Ash, but he didn’t seem alarmed in the slightest.

  “This is the tinker I spoke of,” Ash said over the engine noise, choosing his words with some apparent care for the ears around them.

  “Hello, fresh,” Karan said with an inscrutable look, as if amused and deadly serious at the same time.

  Ash gave her a quizzical look.

  “I… um…” Was Karan on their side? She bent her head close to Ash and whispered, “This would be a good time to fill me in on the details.”

  “Not planning to put another hole in my ship, are ye?” Karan asked, folding his arms.

  Aniri coughed uncomfortably. “It was just a small hole.”

  Ash’s eyes went wide in recognition, and he reached for his sword, still hidden under his coat. Karan’s shoulders began to shake, and a booming laugh emanated from his barrel chest. The sound carried over the hiss of boilers and thrum of engines, attracting the attention of a couple of workers, but they quickly went back to their business.

  Ash stayed his hand, keeping the sword hidden.

  “I knew you weren’t from around here,” Karan said, the smile now wide across his face. He dropped his voice and leaned forward so the low timbre of it wouldn’t carry. “But I didn’t figure ye for a Dharian Princess. Or a spy. Are you a tinker too?” He smirked at her expense.

  “No,” she said, her face hot. “I’m much better at tearing things apart than putting them back together.”

  “There’s use in that as well,” Karan said solemnly, standing straight again. He nodded to the two workers who had arrived at their side. Aniri was shocked to see Janak and Priya, dressed as engine crew. Janak’s face was angry, but for once she didn’t think it was directed at her. His arms were folded tight across his chest as if to hold himself back from exploding.

  In spite of everything, he was here: ready to save Queen and country, loyal to the end. He surveyed her sword strapped to her side and gave her a quick nod. It flushed warmth through her, his silent acknowledgment: he knew she hadn’t run away after all. She was here, just as he was, ready to do whatever was necessary for Dharia. She returned his nod, and it bridged everything else that had gone before.

  Janak’s hands were marred with grease, his face smeared with soot, but Priya somehow had managed to remain spotless in her neatly tucked work shirt and pants. Her hair had been plaited and fell behind her back, and she wore a broad smile that encompassed all four of them.

  “Glad to see you again, my lady,” Priya said. “Mr. Karan has been very helpful in designing a rescue plan for you.” She beamed at him, and Aniri was dumbfounded to see red creep into the giant man’s cheeks. A lot had indeed happened while she had been knocked out. But she couldn’t exactly ask Priya about it in the present company and circumstances.

  Instead, she turned to Ash. “What exactly is the plan here?”

  “To take the engine room,” he said quietly. “And hold it long enough to disable the weapon, turn the ship around, and return to Jungali. At which point, I plan to put Garesh under arrest for unauthorized acts of war against the Dharian people.”

  “And you’re on board with this?” Aniri asked Karan. Ash said the tinker had helped smuggle them on board to rescue her, but a mutiny on the ship? She was still trying to figure how this odd alliance came to be.

  “I didn’t design this beauty to be a merchant of death,” Karan said. “I didn’t know all the captain’s plans for her, but war was never a part of the prince’s plan, gods rest his soul.” He meant Ash’s brother, Tosh, and Aniri suddenly realized he must have known the younger prince. Worked with him on the skyship. No wonder Ash trusted Karan with their lives.

  She gave a short nod. “Then we’ll have to stop that from happening.”

  “Exactly so, fresh,” he said with a smile.

  “We’re wasting time,” Janak growled. The energy coiled inside him seemed to have settled into a dangerous calm.

  “Right, then,” Karan said. “Now that we’re all in attendance, perhaps we can stop this ship from raining fire from the sky.”

  Priya moved quickly to the door behind them, closing it quietly and putting a Samirian key in the keyhole. The whirring and clicking hopefully meant that it was locked. Janak took a station next to Karan.

  The tinker fisted his large hands on his hips and bellowed out to the room to be heard above all the racket of the machinery. “All stations, report.”

  One by one, starting on the left and moving clockwise, the engine workers called out their status, loudly, like Karan, in practiced, formal voices.

  “Forward vent, closed.”

  “Aft vent, closed.”

  “Rudder, carrying six degrees.”

  “Starboard throttle, full.”

  On through the stations they went, ending with, “Stern fins, twenty degrees rise, trim.”

  Karan met each with a short nod, which could only be meant for himself, since the sailor’s gazes were fixed on their levers and needle gauges.

  When they were done cycling through, Karan called out, “Forward vent, how is your ballast?”

  “Control, forward vent, ballast full.”

  “Bow fins, make ready for trim,” he called out.

  “Control, bow fins, ready for trim,” a worker in the back answered.

  “Stern fins, make ready for trim.”

  “Control, stern fins, ready for trim,” came the reply.

  “Starboard throttle, set your power to half.” Karan waited for the call back before saying, “Port throttle, set your power to half.” The immediate whining down of the engines made the thrum both less loud and deeper. It shook the floorboards of the engine room through Aniri’s boots.

  “Rudder, set
your angle to zero one zero,” Karan said, “and hold until our bearing is one eight zero.”

  There was a pause. “Control, repeat?” came the answer from a worker standing in front of a panel filled with needle gauges, instruments, and one large lever that his hand rested upon.

  “Rudder, bring us to bearing one eight zero,” Karan repeated.

  “One eight zero, sir?” The sailor at the rudder station looked to the sailor next to him, doubt wrinkling his brow. “That will return us to Bajir, sir.”

  “That’s an order, sailor,” Karan said.

  The sailor hesitated. Every head in the room swung between the rudder station and Karan. Janak stood by his side, all tension at the ready, but Aniri didn’t know if the sailors could see that in the smoky light of the engine room.

  “Captain’s orders,” Karan said carefully. “We’re coming about and heading back to Jungali.”

  A muttering chatter rose up.

  One man stepped away from his spot by the boiler, his shovel still in hand, and his face slick with sweat. “What about the mission, sir?” he called out.

  “It’s been aborted,” Karan responded, then pointed to the rudder station. “Rudder, make your angle zero one zero, or I’ll come there and do it myself, sailor.”

  The sailor’s eyes went wide, then he slowly eased the lever to the left and shouted, “Control, rudder, angle set to zero one zero.”

  Aniri could feel the slow tilt as the ship heeled over into the turn.

  “Belay that order,” a voice barked. It was the man who had spoken before. He swung his shovel onto his shoulder and called out, “I didn’t hear any order come down from the bridge.”

  “Aye,” said a second man, closer, standing near a large brass tube that flared into a horn shape. “There was no order on the tube.”

  “Well, that’s that, then,” Karan said quietly and nodded to Janak, who looked like he was ready to burst. He moved so fast, Aniri could hardly track him. He leapt from Karan’s side and landed at the rudder station. His hands blurred, connecting with the sailor in at least two spots. Aniri wasn’t quite sure what he did, but the man crumpled to the floor at Janak’s feet. The nearby engine workers shrank away, fear flashing across their faces.