Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  “Then perhaps we can take a stroll elsewhere,” Janak said.

  Priya would find out later, then.

  “Above decks will be less than comfortable, fresh,” Karan said. “The galley should be clear for at least an hour. Cook won’t be prepping for dinner until then.”

  She nodded her thanks and followed Janak from the bridge. They were quiet down the two flights to the galley. She finally noticed a slight hesitation in his steps on the stairs—not quite a limp, more a favoring of one side. It made her stomach clench. Why had she agreed to have Janak on this trip? Surely there was someone else who could provide security. But of course she knew the answer: her mother would trust no one else like she would Janak. And, despite her concerns, Aniri was selfishly glad to have him with her.

  The galley was empty, just as Karan had said. There was only a trio of wooden tables that could seat maybe a dozen sailors at once. The crew was small, and probably ate in shifts, too.

  Janak eased into the seat opposite her, slower than she would have expected, sparking new concern. “Are you sure you’re well, Janak?”

  “My injuries will heal.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your foolishness, on the other hand, appears quite possibly terminal.”

  She returned his glare. “Ensuring my sister’s safety is not foolishness.” She felt the rightness of that statement in her heart, but at the same time feared he was right. The anger and hurt on Ash’s face still haunted her.

  “No, but upsetting the political balance between three countries who may be on the brink of war most certainly is.”

  Aniri pushed back from the table and crossed her arms. “I thought you came because you supported me in this.”

  “I came because the Queen would worry excessively about you if I didn’t.”

  Aniri threw her hands out in exasperation. “I have an entire guard and a skyship to protect me. I’m simply going to ensure that Seledri is well, then return. A few days at most.”

  Janak didn’t move, but his dark eyes bored into her. “The Queen worries—and I can’t say without reason—that you might do something more foolish than that.”

  Aniri’s eyebrows hiked up. Did Janak and her mother already guess her plans to bring Seledri home? Not that she had any idea how to accomplish it, or even if Seledri would be willing to come, but Aniri wanted to ensure her sister had a way out of the enemy territory that Samir might soon become. She met Janak’s inscrutable stare with her own, not wanting to tip her hand. Perhaps she could throw him off.

  Aniri leaned forward again, putting her elbows on the table. “Have you told her?”

  Janak frowned. “Told her what?”

  “Have you told my mother that you love her?”

  Janak’s mouth fell open, then he shut it in a thin line and studied the sworls of wood grain on the table.

  “I haven’t told her, either,” Aniri hastily added. “About that, or that I know the truth about my father.”

  His attention snapped back to her. “I told the Queen you are now aware that your father isn’t dead.”

  She leaned back. “You did?”

  “She’s worried that your rush to Samir has as much to do with that as with your sister. And I’m concerned that you keep the secret your mother has suffered under for years.”

  Her mother thought she would try to find her father.

  Should she?

  The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to her, yet now that it had, a slithering itch of agitation ran up her legs and forced her to stand and pace away from the table.

  “Aniri.” Janak’s voice carried warning. “Tell me you aren’t thinking of—” He cut himself off.

  Aniri turned to study him: he was clearly ailing, fist clenched on the table, visibly struggling with emotions. He came not to watch over her, not to rescue her sister, but to keep the Queen’s secret safe. She didn’t want to be angry with him, but it surged up inside her anyway.

  He ground his fist into the table and said through clenched teeth. “It was my mistake to let you know. Believe me, I regret that. In a moment of… weakness… I betrayed the Queen’s confidence. I have sworn your handmaiden and Prince Malik to secrecy. I believe they both understand the gravity of the situation, but you…” He stared up at Aniri from the table. “You are known for making decisions that may not be the most prudent.”

  His words were a blade slicing through her heart. She turned away, pacing and trying to choose words she wouldn’t regret. Finally, she stopped in front of him, hands on hips. “That’s why you haven’t told her. Isn’t it?”

  Janak clenched his jaw and looked away from her demanding stare. “The Queen thinks you will run after your father. She actually has great confidence in your ability to find him, even though no one else could. And the hope in her eyes when she spoke of it...”

  Aniri could see the pain that caused him, and it made her heart clench. “My father left her. Left us. He might as well be dead. He’s nothing to us now.” She hadn’t thought of it that way before, but it was true. As much as she wanted to know why her father had chosen to leave them, in the end, the why of it didn’t matter. He left them all the same.

  Janak shook his head. “I’m afraid he remains something to the Queen.”

  Aniri took a seat again. She wanted to reach a hand across the table to Janak, but she didn’t think he would allow it. So she balled hers up on the table, mirroring his. “He’s just a memory that she clings to because she has nothing to replace it.”

  Janak looked to her, and the glimmer of hope was almost worse than the pain. “I think it’s more than that, Aniri.”

  Aniri. He never called her that, and it tore at her.

  “How can it be more? You are the one she trusts. You are the one she sends to make sure I’m not an even bigger fool than normal. You are by her side every day, whereas he’s just a bad memory, an embarrassment she’s had to carry for years.”

  He shook his head sadly. “You don’t hear the way she talks of you, Aniri. How proud she is. How much you remind her of him—of the good parts. The parts she wishes to remember. She still—” He stopped and pressed his lips together, like he had already spoken too much.

  “She still what?” This time Aniri reached across the table to grab Janak’s clenched fist. “Tell me, Janak.”

  “She still clings to the idea that he never truly left. Never abandoned her. That somehow, something went wrong. He wandered off in the night. He was lost or kidnapped perhaps.”

  Aniri’s heart clenched, and she drew her hand back. “Is that possible?”

  Janak gritted his teeth. “It is a fairy tale she tells herself because the truth is too bitter.” Then his face softened. “But it’s not one I can bring myself to take from her.”

  Aniri was still reeling. “You said… you said he left a note. She can’t deny that.”

  Janak rose up, pushing away from the table in disgust. “Yes, he left a note, but notes can be faked. He had protection—I was there as his raksaka—but my tea was drugged. It might not have been your father himself drugging my tea, even though he was the only one I wouldn’t have suspected. It could have been assassins or kidnappers. By the time I awoke, your father could have been spirited far away, against his will. The Samirian Queen Mother assured us no one in her court had knowledge of his whereabouts, but they could have been lying. If it was a conspiracy, our Queen could never have uncovered it without launching a full scale war. And if he was taken, why then… he could have escaped. He may yet still be alive, living in the shadows in Samir, just waiting for the chance to return.”

  He was laying out the logic in the Queen’s voice now, but his voice was bitter. Aniri could picture it, this argument they had, Janak and her mother, over whether her husband had truly abandoned her. Or whether he had been taken by the Samirians who then covered it up, for some unknowable reason. The woman Janak loved was still fighting, eight years later, to hold onto a version of the past that would forever exclude Janak from her life.

  Anir
i could only imagine the pain on both sides of that fight. “You don’t believe any of that,” she said softly.

  “No.” His shoulders dropped. “If he loved her like she wants to believe, there is nothing save death that could have kept him from returning. Nothing that could have kept me from returning.”

  “But you are raksaka,” Aniri said with a small smile. “He was only a man.”

  He gave a short laugh that more resembled a huff.

  She edged forward. “My father may or may not be dead, but either way, the man who was my father is gone. I’m only going to Samir for Seledri. You have my word on that.”

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment, studying her. Then he gave a short nod. “I hear you have plans to become a tinker along the way.”

  “Only in my spare time.” She kept her face serious, but a smirk flashed across Janak’s face. He believed she was telling the truth about her father, and she was. But all this talk of him only strengthened her resolve to get Seledri out of Samir. Her father had abandoned them long ago; she wasn’t going to do the same to her kind-hearted sister.

  When the skyship stopped in Chira to take on coal, Aniri thought she would see the famed black lava flows or glittering sand beaches, but the night was pitch dark, the twin moons had set, and she was exhausted from hours of instruction on the operation of the Prosperity. Sighting tables, needle gauges, and ship schematics swam in her thoughts as she dropped into a bunk in the room she shared with Priya. She didn’t even change out of her traveling clothes, just kicked off her boots and nearly fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  What felt like minutes later, but must have been at least a few hours, Priya shook her awake and urged her to change into attire suitable for meeting royalty. They were deep inside Samir, past several low-lying mountain ranges and the boroughs that were nestled between them. The air was rougher now, making it difficult to keep her balance while she struggled into a corset, skirt, and slippers. Priya gave up pinning her hair after several attempts. Instead, Aniri just donned a hair jewel matching her subdued orange-and-red dress.

  They climbed the stairs to the deck in time to see the skyship sail over the wall of the Samirian capital of Mahatvak. The city was buttressed by granite mountains on one side, and a massive stone wall surrounding the rest. The ship flew low—perhaps only a few hundred feet above the buildings—and sound carried crystal-clear through the air, bringing the rattling of steamworks, the laughing voices of children, and the calling of street vendors hawking their wares. It was like Bhakti, Ash’s capital city, with the buildings jammed together and constant motion in the streets, only Mahatvak was five times the size and didn’t have the color of Jungali. A haze of brown muted the city, and the acrid stench of burning coal wafted up to them. Through the smoke, Aniri could see even the buildings lacked color. The metalworks and masonry Samir was famous for—carved stones, bricks, and riveted steel columns—were uniformly gray or brown or a dirty sort of ivory.

  Priya leaned over the railing and waved to a group of children who were looking up at the skyship and pointing. “Hello!” she shouted, as if the strangers below were her fondest friends. “Hello, people of Samir!” Of course, as far as she knew, the Samirians were their allies and had been for a hundred years.

  As they sailed above the city, many of the citizens waved back, but many more shielded their eyes against the morning sun and simply stared. The ship’s shadow passed over them, and it made Aniri shiver. She could imagine a skyship sailing over their city, one that had a weapon on board capable of destroying it, wasn’t the most pleasant thing to see on this bright, sunny morning.

  Aniri pulled back from the railing. “I’m moving forward for a better view.”

  Priya remained behind, waving to the crowds and gawking at the sights. Aniri worked her way around the Jungali sailors as they darted along the deck, unwinding coiled ropes to prepare for docking. Karan had messaged ahead and been cleared for an approach to the Samirian royal household. That alone—that the Samirians were willing to let them fly the skyship straight into their capital city and dock at their estate—gave Aniri a wash of relief. Surely, if they were planning war with Dharia, or Jungali for that matter, they wouldn’t be welcoming a skyship with open arms deep into their country.

  Aniri found Janak at the bow. Most of the deck was occupied by the glass-encased bridge, which had a sailor on top waving nautical flags, one in each hand. He dangled over the edge, a line attached at his waist for safety, signaling someone with flags of their own on the parapets of the estate.

  “I think Seledri must be all right,” Aniri said to Janak. “They wouldn’t be welcoming us so warmly, allowing us to dock right at the palace, if there was any trouble afoot.”

  “Or they are glad we’re bringing our one weapon within arm’s reach,” Janak said wryly.

  “They could have forced us to land in a field outside the city. Surely that would have provided them with more advantage for attack, if they were of a mind to. And kept their palace far from any danger.”

  Janak looked surprised she had given it any thought at all.

  Aniri scowled at him. “I’m attempting to better my education in political matters.”

  “Well, that will certainly be a relief to all our Queendoms.”

  Aniri shook her head. Janak’s temper hadn’t lightened much after their discussion, and he seemed to grow more tense as they approached the palace. It was a glittering, dark gray behemoth, carved of granite and fortified with steel from the Samirians’ resource-rich mountains. The castle had a myriad of slender towers that ended in needle-sharp spires, like daggers sheathed in the craggy granite mountain behind them. There were also rounded domes, arched windows, and stone terraces, but even those were topped with metal spikes, as if the estate were a giant quilled beast that stood defensively against any attack.

  “Where are we to dock?” Aniri asked, suddenly concerned.

  “It is a rather unfriendly place for a gas bag to perch.” Janak pointed off to the left, what Captain Tarak called the port side, and there an extension of the castle ran along the mountain: it was a series of rooms, a single story tall, carved straight from the rock. They were far from the spires, which made the extended balcony at least a plausible place for docking, but Aniri couldn’t imagine their purpose otherwise.

  “Whatever are they for?”

  Janak eyed the apartments. “High security prisons? Secret meeting rooms? The royal suites?” He glanced at her. “I can see the strategic advantage of having a fortress which has only one, highly guarded entrance.”

  “It just looks… odd.”

  “The Samirians are known for their metalworks and their cleverness, less so for their aesthetics. Their designs always serve a purpose.”

  Aniri nodded. The skyship drifted closer, and she glimpsed a half dozen guards and a lone figure who might be royalty on the balcony. The ship slowed and turned sideways, cutting off Aniri’s view. Shouts from the opposite side of the ship sounded like the Jungali crew were casting lines.

  Janak carried the Queen’s aetheroceiver tucked under his arm. Its twin would remain with Captain Tarak and ostensibly provide wireless communication with the skyship while they were on the ground—but it was also a lifeline to signal for help, should they need it.

  It reminded her of the other aetheroceiver on board—the one with a twin in Ash’s office. He had given it to Karan, but the first message had been for her, arriving not long after they departed.

  ANIRI: BE CAREFUL. RETURN QUICKLY.

  Aniri had transcribed the message herself, working the symbols into letters on the thin scroll of parchment. She could feel his anger between each word. He had practically begged her to stay, to marry him in front of all his people. Instead, she had fled, running off to rescue her sister from a country and a husband she didn’t love.

  Aniri wasn’t forced into marriage, like her sister, but maybe her betrothal to Ash was an ill-fit union as well. She had thought she was in love
with Devesh, but that turned out to be a love built on lies on his part and wishful thinking on hers. At least she and Devesh had the advantage of time together, whereas nearly every moment with Ash had been filled with intrigue and drama. When the threat of war receded, what would they have binding them together? Perhaps Ash was right: a princess from the plains and a prince from the mountains were too unlikely a match. His steaming hot kisses in the fencing hall might convince her heart they were meant for each other, but clearly her heart had proven to be as flighty as bird; she couldn’t help but wonder if she could trust it at all.

  Aniri shook her head, breaking free of her reverie.

  Janak’s curious stare made her flush, but he quickly held out his free hand, gesturing her to go ahead of him. “After you, your most royal highness. If all is well with your sister, perhaps we can be on our way within the hour. The less time we spend within blunderbuss range of the Samirian seat of power, the better.”

  Aniri nodded and turned to lead the way to debark. As soon as she ensured Seledri’s safety, she would ask her sister if it was common to hesitate so much before a wedding. Wasn’t that a sign the marriage was poorly chosen? Her lovely and love-burdened sister hadn’t been given a choice, but Aniri was certain she would have wise counsel about this.

  Meanwhile, Aniri needed to focus on the problem at hand: spiriting Seledri out of Samir. An hour was considerably less time than she might need. Perhaps she could offer to give her sister a ride in the skyship—surely the Samirians couldn’t object to a sightseeing tour of their city from above—and then simply make for Dharia and hope they were out of range before her plan was detected.

  She couldn’t see Karan agreeing to that. Not when it risked having his ship shot down. Nor would Janak, given it would likely be an act of war. Aniri had spent the hours flying over the sea to Samir casting for a plausible reason to bring Seledri home, but she had come up empty.