He held it up before Priya with a dead-serious look. “Priya, I give you the key to my heart. Take right care of it until I return and we can be properly wed in the eyes of the gods and our families.”
The solemnity of his words tormented Aniri, but Priya glowed as Karan placed the necklace over her head. He drew back, leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek along the way. Priya then fished into the cream-colored fabric swept over her shoulder and came out with a long, brown cord of cut leather. A small gear was attached to the end.
Karan’s eyes danced as she commanded in a stern voice, “Hold out your arm.”
When he did so, she wound the length around and around his wrist, fashioning a rough bracelet and saying as she went, “Karan, with this cord I bind my soul to yours, until you return and we can be properly wed in the eyes of the gods and our families.” She fixed the loose end to the gear piece, so that it held in place. His smile had softened as she spoke, and once she was done, he took her delicate face in his large hands and kissed her.
It was done before Aniri could think of words to stop it. And it was so intimate and sweet, she felt guilty for wanting to do so. The heat in her cheeks tempted her to duck her head away, but as apparent witness to this betrothal, she forced herself to watch as her new friend and rescuer Karan gave his love to her oldest friend and handmaiden. She blinked back her tears and kept her objections to herself. But what did they know about each other? How could they possibly pledge their hearts and souls when they had only known each other over the high drama and daring adventures of the last few days? What horrible mistake was she being witness to? And was she truly about to do the same herself?
As Priya and Karan broke their kiss, Aniri looked away, embarrassed by all of it: the kiss, the vows, and most of all, her thoughts. Her own betrothal was far less solemn, having taken place with no witnesses and sealed only with a kiss. But now that it was done, it felt more binding than the leather cords around Karan’s wrist. She shook her head. Now was not the time to be having second thoughts—not with war looming and so much at stake.
Priya grinned at Karan, released him, and skipped to Aniri’s side. “Oh, my lady! It was even more wonderful with you here.” Then Priya threw her arms around Aniri, and Karan very much chuckled at her surprised response. She did her best to put off her shock and hug Priya back.
“It was… my honor to be here for your betrothal, Priya.” She cast an imperious look to Karan. “I dare say the prince’s Master Tinker will not be tempted to break his vow now that he knows the future Queen of Jungali would have his head for it.”
Karan’s chuckle broke into a full guffaw. He struggled to rein it in. “Fresh, I’d be far more afeared of Miss Priya’s reaction than yours.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “As it should be, I suppose.”
“And now, my lady.” Priya tugged at Aniri’s adventuring jacket. “We must get you out of these clothes. There is much to be done and scandalously little time to prepare for a proper royal wedding.”
“Now that my bit of business is done,” Karan said with a smile, “it’s time for this ship to be lifting off as well.”
Aniri sighed. She couldn’t plausibly delay him without stirring all kinds of suspicion. Her questions would have to wait until Karan’s return. “Are you quite certain, Master Tinker, that you’ll return in two days’ time? I’m still quite interested in learning how your ship works.”
His great brow wrinkled up. “As soon as she’s in right shape again, you can have all the lessons you like, fresh.”
Aniri nodded and pulled in a breath. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Karan.”
His frown grew deeper, but Aniri ignored his puzzled looks and let Priya lead her from the engine room and back to the palace where her future awaited.
It had only been a day, but the endless parade of people and wedding items was driving Aniri to distraction. It was as if her mother’s court had been replicated in the Jungali mountains, only now Aniri was the center of attention, rather than the rebellious Third Daughter who would occasionally show up late for tea. The whirlwind of activity just built a sense of increasing dread with each hour that marched forward, as though she were on a train hurtling down the tracks with increasing speed. There was no time to think about whether boarding was wise, and no seeming way to get off, regardless.
She hadn’t seen Ash except to select the local dancers for the wedding celebration and to receive the nobles come to present their wedding gifts. She supposed it was keeping with tradition to limit contact between the bride and groom in advance of the wedding, but it seemed silly in light of how much time they had already spent together—or how little, her heart reminded her. And it left no opportunity for her to gauge whether it was foolishness to marry so quickly, or whether following her heart in this case was the best course for all. Ash was right that the preparations were distracting, but not in a way that settled her heart.
As the Jungali people trickled in from the other three provinces—Sik, Rajan, and Mahet—the prince’s home province of Bajir was mostly concerned with the finer details of the wedding preparations. Aniri’s room was heaped with samples of foods for her to evaluate, gifts the Bajirans hoped the royal couple would bestow on their guests, and vase after vase of wild mountain flowers. The blossoms transformed her room into a perfumed mountain meadow and distracted her from the onerous job of being fitted for her wedding dress at the frenetic hands of Priya.
Aniri stood on a small platform with the enormous skirt of her dress draping nicely for her handmaiden’s attentions. Aniri’s short, snow-white corset was heavily jeweled along the edges, leaving her midriff and shoulders bare. The skirt billowed from where it sat low on her hips, the undercoat of blue satin covered with layers and layers of sheer white fabric. Deep-blue, teardrop-shaped crystals weighted the hem, each one a royal raindrop dripping to the floor. The whole dress gave the impression that Aniri was afloat in a bejeweled cloud. The sweep of sheer white fabric over her shoulder completed the illusion that she was somehow not quite real, just a puff floating over the brilliant blue Jungali sky.
Priya fussed over the dress, pinning and repinning and adjusting things Aniri couldn’t even see in all the layers.
When her handmaiden stepped back to examine her handiwork, Aniri ventured, “Are we done?”
Priya simply scowled and dove back in to the frothy dress.
Aniri took a giant calming breath, which only made Priya squeak with indignation. “Do not move, my lady!”
“We’ve been at this an hour, Priya. I might lose my mind if we don’t finish soon.”
Priya climbed back out from under the layers to give Aniri a tiny scowl. “My lady, this is only the first fitting.”
Aniri’s mouth fell open. “The first? How many will be required? I promise not to change shape before the wedding tomorrow.”
“As many as necessary to make sure my lady is perfect in every way.”
Aniri gritted her teeth. “I’m afraid there are not enough fittings possible to achieve that.”
Priya just shook her head and lifted several diaphanous layers over her head so she could work on the snug inner skirt hanging from Aniri’s hips. “Perhaps my lady needs an adjustment to her temper as well as her gown.”
Aniri sighed. “Perhaps.”
Of course she couldn’t tell Priya of her true concerns: not about the haste of her marriage, especially given Priya’s betrothal to Karan, nor about the Samirians, their possible skyship, and her sister across the sea who might be caught in a war between them. Aniri had messaged both her sister Seledri and their mother, the Queen, but neither had expressed anything but pleasantries about the upcoming wedding. Seledri was beside herself that she couldn’t attend, but other than that, nothing. Yet aetheroceiver messages were of necessity brief and colorless—who knew what their notes were leaving unsaid, just as hers were.
At least the Queen would arrive this evening in time for the rehearsal. Aniri would have to meet privatel
y with her mother as quickly as possible. Perhaps the Queen could use some pretext to convince Seledri to come home again, at least until the danger of war had passed. Ash’s spies had already reached Samir—soon, they should have knowledge of whether the Samirians were capable of creating a second skyship on their own. Then she would know the depths of their troubles.
Or perhaps all her worrying would be for nothing.
Priya fought her way out of the dress’s layers. “My lady, I will need you to slip out of your gown for the moment while I make these adjustments.”
“Praise be to the gods,” Aniri said under her breath.
Priya lifted the shoulder sweep carefully away. Aniri unhooked the back of the skirt and wriggled it down until she could step out of the voluminous fabric moat that surrounded her. She saw no way to exit other than leaping over the yards of material, so she did.
Priya let out a small shriek when it seemed Aniri might not quite make the edge. Her handmaiden held the giant sweep of sheer fabric in one hand and pressed the other to her chest as if her heart had stopped. Then she scowled and stalked toward Aniri. “My lady definitely needs a break.”
Aniri grinned and turned her back so Priya could undo her corset. “Can you spare me for an hour? The prince has refurbished a fencing hall for me, and I’ve yet to set foot in it.”
Priya made a small sound of impatience as she worked the thousand tiny hooks at the back of Aniri’s corset. “No more than an hour. I still need to prepare you for tonight’s rehearsal.”
“I promise,” Aniri said, her heart light. When Priya set her free of the last hook, Aniri raced to dig out her fencing attire, still buried in the many cases they had originally brought from Dharia—back when she had no intention of staying, but had to pack as if she did. It was fortuitous now, and she hastily pulled on her canvas breeches and thin-soled, leather boots. Her fencing jacket went over a lightweight undershirt, but she just grabbed her chest protector, foil, and fencing glove and ran out the door before Priya could change her mind.
The palace had become less of a mystery to her as she flitted from one appointment to the next. The highest levels were reserved for royal apartments and guest rooms, the midlevel for public gatherings like the rehearsal, with the lower levels reserved for household staff and kitchens. These levels extended below the streets outside, carving deep into the mountain rock, and somewhere in the depths lay the dungeon and Garesh’s men. It was slightly unsettling to have them so near, but she supposed it was better than summary execution. Or returning them to Sik province where they could enact further insurrection.
The fencing hall was on the top floor, down the hallway that gently curved to follow the mountain’s sheer edge. Ash had fenced as a boy, along with his brother, Tosh, but the hall had been left to disuse as the boy princes grew to men with responsibilities. Her thin fencing boots made no sound as she stole down the hall, although she attracted the curious glances of a pair of guards along the way.
With Ash’s mother and brother both passed on, the royal apartments were mostly empty. The guest rooms would remain likewise vacant until her mother’s entourage arrived this evening. Aniri passed the still-damaged guest room that was her first in the estate—the scent of the fire lingered, and the soot marks from the attempt on her life still marred the edges of the door. At the end of the hall was the prince’s private quarters—rooms she had yet to visit. In less than a day, those rooms would be hers as well, and she and Ash would consummate their marriage here in the palace, as was customary. That thought sent a surge of uncertainty through her, and she quickly looked away, searching for the entrance to the fencing hall.
She found it just two doors down from the prince’s room and stole up to it, as though she were getting away with some indiscretion. Gathering her chest protector, foil, and glove all in one hand, she quietly turned the knob. With a glance down the hall and no one to see, she pushed the door open, snuck inside, and turned to quietly close it.
“Aniri!”
The voice startled her so badly, she dropped her things. As her sword clattered on the polished wooden floor, she turned in the direction of the voice, and only when she saw him standing there, did she recognize the prince.
“Ash,” she said, breathless and trying to calm her heart. “You startled me.”
He stood at one end of the training room, which was easily three times the size of her guest room, and a quick look confirmed they were alone. Behind him was a table arrayed with swords and a glass cabinet that spanned the narrow length of the room. It held weapons, armor, and what looked unsettlingly like instruments of torture.
Ash smiled broadly and set down a saber he had been holding. “Are you spying on me again?” He was dressed for fencing: a high collared jacket, fitted breeches, and lightweight fencing boots. But he was missing a chest protector, and there was no one else in the hall. An automaton, made of brass and steel and clockwork, stood at the opposite end—perhaps that was his intended partner.
“I was just making my escape from Priya and her ministrations for a moment.” As Aniri bent to pick up her things, her fencing jacket fell open to reveal her rather thin shirt underneath. A blush ran up her neck, and she wished she had fully dressed before venturing out. She awkwardly juggled her things, trying to find a graceful way to fix her shirt with her hands full.
Ash strode over from the table, a bemused smirk no doubt for her gracelessness. “Is your handmaiden holding you captive?”
“She torments me with corsets and wedding gowns.” Aniri decided to rest her foil against the door and drop her glove back to the floor while slipping the chest guard over one shoulder. “What are you doing here? I thought you no longer fenced?”
“I’m thinking of taking up the sport again.” His smile dropped away as he arrived in front of her. He reached to the bottom of her fencing jacket and wrapped it tight at her waist, then slowly fixed the brass buttons, one at a time, as he worked his way up her side. It flashed unbidden memories of Devesh back home, although he never dared to dress her like this in the fencing hall. Then again, she had never shown up for lessons half-dressed.
By the time Ash reached the buttons at her neck, her face was on fire. She shouldn’t be embarrassed—once they were married, he would do much more than button her jacket—but somehow that didn’t keep the fluster from her face. He must have seen her blush, because when he finished fastening her buttons, he lightly brushed his cool fingers across her heated cheek. She ducked her head, absurdly feeling embarrassed for feeling embarrassed.
If he noticed, that didn’t stop him from lifting the second strap of her chest guard over her other shoulder and reaching his arms around her to hook it in the back. This time, his cheek swept hers as he worked. It seemed to take far longer than necessary.
When he finally pulled back, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve wanted to fence you ever since you pulled a blade on me.”
She swallowed. “I don’t remember threatening you with a sword.”
His amber eyes were afire. “I remember it quite well.” His tone brought the memory hurtling back of the night in Mahet when they shared a room, but not a bed. She had to look away, because it flamed her face anew, but he quickly brought her back with a gentle touch to her cheek. “Aniri, what’s wrong?”
“Just a bit… nervous, I suppose.” Her sister Seledri would be laughing herself silly if she saw Aniri blushing this way, alone with her husband, on the eve of her marriage. As if she had never clutched a man in a fevered embrace. True, she was still chaste, as was expected, but that didn’t explain her heated face. It was her uncertainty that had her quivering at the thought of sharing a bed and all that intimacy would mean. If her sister were here, perhaps she would reassure Aniri that all women had the same doubts as she. But, then again, maybe not. Her sister had never had the benefit, or perhaps curse, of a choice in the matter.
“Me too,” the prince said quietly.
She drew back and tossed him a skeptical look. “You hide you
r nerves very well, Prince Malik.”
He grinned. “I’ve survived a mutiny and a saber duel on top of a skyship with you. I imagine a wedding is only slightly more treacherous.”
She took a deep breath. “Honestly, a saber duel sounds much less nerve-wracking. At least then I knew who we were fighting. Do you have any word from your spies in Samir?”
His smile faded. “Nothing as yet. We took care to encrypt the aetheroceiver transmissions, plus my spies have devised a code such that, if intercepted, the messages would be unintelligible. Even so, they’ve made no mention of a Samirian skyship. There are general rumblings of fear in the Samirian countryside about the Prosperity and the new treaty between Jungali and Dharia, but nothing that would indicate they are preparing an imminent invasion. Their fleet, the sea-bound one, appears to be following their already planned trade missions. But the Samirians are very clever. They could be arming their ships in a way my casual dock worker spies would not be able to detect it.”
“The Samirians are also well known for their distrust of strangers. Perhaps your spies cannot hear what the people would not say to someone unknown.”
“Indeed.” He pulled back from her. “They are also excellent liars.”
He was referring to Devesh, which only made Aniri purse her lips. “If our alliance is causing unease, we may be provoking them into preparing for war, even if they had not intended one before.”
“That is also true.” Ash sighed. “Once Karan returns, I will gain his counsel on the Samirian capabilities. I didn’t want to send him off to Sik province without time to discuss it properly and with no means to do anything about it. If I didn’t think it would be considered an act of war, I would simply have him fly the ship over the sea to Samir to take my own measure of their intentions and ability to wage war against us.”
“Perhaps, once the wedding is finished…” Aniri half hoped she might be on that flight.
Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two) Page 3
