Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Aniri’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re not keeping them. Why? Did she find a new lover?”

  “She was never my lover!” Devesh stepped back and ran a hand through his hair.

  Aniri took that to mean he had never loved the ambassador, not that he had never shared her bed. Then again, he had never shared Aniri’s bed, but professed to love her. Devesh clearly suffered a general confusion about the proper order of these things.

  The clacking of the aetheroceiver keys filled the silence for a moment.

  “Look,” Devesh said finally. “I know things that can help you. I know there are other skyships. I don’t know how many or what their capabilities are, but I know they’re secreted away in the mountains of Samir. The Second Son and the King have to be behind all of it. An operation of this scale requires substantial funds and long-term political strategy. The idea of sending me to Dharia, of keeping the Queen’s errant husband under wraps, of partnering with Jungali and leveraging their hopes of rising out of poverty with a new war machine—all of it smacks of a lengthy political strategy to upend the normal ascension order. This isn’t just about waging war on Dharia. It’s about the Second Son gaining the crown.”

  Seledri spoke up from the chair. “Do you think Natesh is behind my assassination attempt?” She seemed to be gaining color, which Aniri was very relieved to see.

  “Yes,” Devesh said, also seeming relieved, although probably because he thought he was winning her over. “A military victory over Dharia would appeal to a great many Samirians.” He sent an apologetic look to Aniri. “They are nationalists, but they’re unwilling to break with tradition with regards to ascension, especially when the First Son has an heir on the way. But if Seledri and the heir-to-be were removed, the people would easily accept a war hero and his Samirian wife, a lady of the court from a powerful Samirian family, as the next true King and Queen of Samir. An armada of skyships is just what they need to achieve this.”

  Janak returned from his station at the aetheroceiver. “What do we really know about this supposed armada?”

  Devesh bristled under his skeptical look.

  Aniri sighed. “We know that the only weapon we have is a lone skyship currently in Samirian territory. Getting the Prosperity safely away and ensuring the continuation of the royal line are our top priorities.”

  Janak gave her an almost approving nod, then handed her a thin, curling strip of paper.

  ANIRI: CONCERNED ABOUT DELAY PLEASE MESSAGE EXPECTED RETURN

  Aniri crumpled the message and stuffed it in her cloak pocket with the other. Ash’s message seemed less angry this time, but no less urgent. And yet she still couldn’t reply.

  “We need to return to Jungali as quickly as possible,” she said. “Ash needs to know about the skyship fleet.”

  “Agreed,” Janak said. “I’ve suggested to Captain Tarak that he arrange a sightseeing tour via skyship for a few respected nobles in the Samirian court while he awaits the end of your visit. This gives him a plausible reason to leave dock without us. I mentioned that a return before a specific time would not be necessary and to enjoy the view of the city from outside the gates. I believe the Captain is clever enough to take my meaning.”

  “How much time do we have?” Aniri asked.

  “Approximately an hour. But Aniri… Karan still hasn’t returned.” Janak paused. “We have to consider that he will not be returning at all. That he is, in fact, Samirian, and should by rights be left behind.”

  Aniri winced. “I trust Karan.”

  Janak glanced at Devesh. “Perhaps that trust is misplaced.”

  Her doubts about her judgment surged up again. Karan was Samirian: all the best tinkers were. It showed in the marketplace and on the streets, plain for anyone with eyes to see. Devesh’s long ago words in Jungali came floating back to her: How do you think that feels, Aniri? To be more advanced, more proficient in metalwork and clockwork and all manner of steam-driven wonders, but beholden to a backward-looking Queen because she happens to control the food supply?

  Devesh and Janak had fallen into a staring contest. Devesh’s glare boiled with anger, and Janak’s return look was an open challenge for him to act on it.

  Instead, Devesh turned to Aniri. “Your raksaka is ill-informed about Karan, as I’m sure he is about many things. Karan made a name for himself as the youngest tinker ever accepted into the Royal Guild. That won him the chance to prototype the skyship, which already was sufficient to anger many more-experienced tinkers, but now that he’s sided with the Jungali, you can count on him being fairly well reviled. I doubt Karan has betrayed you, but he may well be compromised anyway. Any Guild member that happens upon him will take special pleasure in sending him to a royal dungeon.”

  Aniri drew in a breath. “Which makes me even less enamored with the idea of leaving him behind. But we need to leave, nonetheless. Now.”

  Devesh returned to being distraught. “Aniri, you can’t simply stroll out the city gates. Let me hide you away. At least temporarily.” He paused, his eyes turning round and desperate. “What happened before… it doesn’t matter now. Please let me help you.”

  Aniri searched his face. His distress seemed too strenuous to be false. Devesh had brought them to her father’s shop, knowing he would attempt to convince her to stay. When the royal guards came for them, he spirited her and her sister away, keeping them safely off the streets. He didn’t have to do any of it. Perhaps not everything he said was lies and manipulation.

  She stepped closer. “Do you care for me, Dev?” She stared into his deep brown eyes. The ones she used to get lost in. But now she saw merely a boy, and a somewhat lost one at that.

  His eyes grew even wider, and he seemed to be holding his breath. “Yes.”

  She kept her expression stern. “Then get us out of this city.”

  His shoulders sagged, but after a moment, he nodded. “I know someone who might know how.”

  If Aniri had known escaping the city with Devesh’s help would involve an overly-intimate ride in a cramped pamgari, she might have considered taking her chances on the streets.

  Riva was at the helm, pumping the pamgari lever and standing on the small bridge between the single wheel in front and the cart behind. It was built for two passengers, but they had four crammed into a tight-canopied transport obviously built for short duration trips of minimal comfort. Seledri sat on Janak’s lap, clutching the aetheroceiver and looking distraught. Janak steadied her with a hand on her arm, but appeared ready to crawl out of his skin with discomfort—no doubt from the situation, not the ride.

  Aniri was perched on Devesh’s lap, ruing her decision with every bump of the cobblestones. The intimacy of the ride was nearly unendurable, not least because she once would have enjoyed such a moment far too much. Her only consolation was that Devesh seemed equally ill at ease. His hands kept moving, wavering between holding Aniri’s waist, to keep her from bouncing out of his lap, and gripping the wooden seat anywhere but near her body.

  She ground out between her teeth. “How much farther can our destination possibly be?”

  “We have to travel to the commerce gate.” Devesh’s voice was equally strained. “The city walls are a holdover from an earlier time, when regular sieges required a stronghold approach. But even now, all pedestrian traffic in and out of the city is through the main gates, or the train station, both of which will be monitored by the Second Son, if he’s thought at all about the situation. Which he has, given the royal guards he sent to your father’s shop. I know someone who may be willing to smuggle us out of the commerce gate.”

  “May?” If it was possible, Janak’s voice was even more strained.

  “He’s not exactly a friend,” Devesh said.

  “What does that mean?” Aniri asked.

  Janak curled his lip. “It means your courtesan consorts with persons of even worse repute than himself.”

  Aniri wished Janak would stop calling him her courtesan.

  “It means,” Devesh groun
d out, “that I’m not entirely sure of his allegiances.” He took a breath and gripped Aniri’s waist again as they bounced with a particular large bump in the road. He immediately let go, much to her relief. “He could be part of the Second Son’s network. The prince has a somewhat shadow organization. A lot of shopkeepers involved in illegal activities do so with his implied consent.”

  “So we could be walking into a trap,” Aniri said. “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “It’s not wise at all,” Devesh said. “I tried to convince you of that already.”

  He shifted in his seat, underneath her, trying to keep his balance with the perpetual sway of the pamgari. His hand momentarily grazed her hip, and she tensed, words leaping to her lips to rebuke him, but then, just as quickly, his touch left. Her jolt didn’t escape Janak’s notice, and his frown made her face light on fire. Surely he didn’t think—

  Devesh kept talking. “We should exercise caution. All of you should hold back until I can inquire about passage out of the city. We won’t reveal your identity at first. Let me handle it.”

  “And how exactly do you know this person?” Seledri asked. “Won’t he wonder why you’re smuggling people out of the city?”

  “When I returned from Jungali, my mission was over,” Devesh said with a sigh. “A rather complete failure, I might add. The ambassador had no more use for me. I was lucky her fondness for me allowed me to walk away with my head still attached. But I still knew some of the people involved in the black market from before I left for Dharia. This particular tradesman deals in large mechanical parts—steam engine boilers, propellers for the Samirian Navy, all very legal. He also smuggles used parts and refurbished goods that wouldn’t pass Guild inspection but are substantially cheaper than his normal trade. I don’t know if he’s ever trafficked in people, but his shipment crates are large enough to allow it. I wouldn’t be surprised, and neither will he. The trick will be in convincing him to smuggle us out, rather than turning us in.”

  “That sounds promising.” Seledri’s sarcasm warmed Aniri’s heart. It was good to hear a little of her sister’s normal liveliness coming back into her voice.

  “I figure your raksaka might come in handy for persuasion purposes,” Devesh replied stiffly.

  Seledri shook her head.

  Janak glared at him.

  Devesh ignored him and shifted again.

  Aniri was determined to get out and walk if their ride didn’t end soon.

  Several torturous minutes later, the pamgari came to a stop. Aniri was out of her side of the cart almost before it stopped moving. Riva hopped down and magically produced a small step stool for Seledri to disembark.

  They had stopped in an industrial district of the city. Most of the shops seemed to trade in clockwork or metalworks of some kind. The shop before them was large—easily four times the size of Riva’s pamgari shop.

  Devesh gave Riva a quick hug. “Thank you for your help. I owe you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve owed me since the moment you met me.”

  He grinned.

  Riva climbed aboard the pamgari driver’s spot, then gave a belated bow to Seledri. “Arama, your majesty.” She pumped the vehicle away without looking back.

  Devesh led the way into the shop, which was indeed crammed with all manner of metalworks. Aniri couldn’t identify most of them, but Devesh’s description of boilers and other shipbuilding parts seemed accurate. Giant mechanical parts were on display, their weight held up by heavy, mechanical-legged tables. The shopkeeper—a short, gray haired man—stood at the counter in back. Unfortunately, he had a customer already, a large man in a heavy, dark cloak, who towered over him.

  “I’m quite busy at the moment,” the shopkeeper called to them. “Perhaps you could stop back later?”

  “We’ll happily wait until you’re through,” Devesh called, waving Aniri, Janak, and Seledri to the side. They still had their hoods up, so the shopkeeper scarce could recognize them across the span of the shop, but something about the build of the customer tugged at Aniri. She edged forward, trying to get a better look, ignoring Devesh’s jittery hand waves shooing her back.

  “Pretend you have a heart, Narendra,” the customer said. “Ye know I’m good for the work. I just need something that won’t catch the Guild’s notice is all.”

  That voice.

  “I’d have to look into it,” the shopkeeper, Narendra, replied. “Could take some time.”

  “Ye don’t need to be coy,” the customer said, leaning forward across the counter. “Just tell me how much it will take to persuade ye. I’d prefer engines, but I’ll take any work they’ve got. Just tell me who you’re shipping parts to, and I can find my own way onto a ship.”

  The accent. The size. Engines. “Karan?” Aniri asked, hoping against hope she was wrong.

  The customer turned, and under the dark cloak was a hint of striking blue: the Jungali sailor uniform. Above it, the unmistakable face of Ash’s Master Tinker.

  His bushy eyebrows flew up. “Fresh! What are ye doing here?” The question was nearly a growl.

  “I could ask the same of you.” It sounded very much like he was trying to find work in Samir. As if he planned to stay a good long while.

  Devesh tugged at her arm, but she shook him off. She glanced back: Janak was keeping Seledri tucked behind a large boiler display. When she turned forward again, Karan had taken a giant step toward her, fully turning his back on the shopkeeper. The smaller man edged to the side, peering around to see who was there.

  Karan dropped his voice low and rough. “This is no place for you, fresh.”

  “This is no place for you, Karan.” Her heart still didn’t want to believe what was plain before her eyes.

  “Aye,” he said softly. “But things aren’t always as they look.”

  A shuffle from the back drew all their attention. The tail end of the shopkeeper disappeared through a back door.

  The tension fled Karan’s body. “Well, that’s a right mess, now.” He shook his head. “Ye could use a few lessons in your spy skills, fresh, so ye don’t wander into a den of thieves unawares. Now ye scared him off, just when I was about to find out who’s been smuggling propeller blades. The kind that might be useful for a different kind of ship, if you take my drift.”

  Relief coursed through Aniri’s body. “So you weren’t…”

  Karan looked offended. “Do ye think me completely incapable of following orders?”

  “I just—”

  “Ay!” he cut her off as he peered past her shoulder. “And you! You’re that sort from the embassy, aren’t ye?” Karan wrinkled up his great brow, like he was trying to conjure whether he knew Devesh’s name or just the face.

  Devesh’s hand was pressed to his head. “I think we’re in need of an alternate plan,” he said to her while glaring at Karan. “And I suggest we leave. Now. Before Narendra pieces it together that, yes, we all somewhat know each other here.”

  Karan’s eyes narrowed. “Is this lot bothering you, fresh?”

  “No, he’s helping me. Well, trying to.”

  Janak emerged from the shadows with Seledri. “I agree that it’s time to leave, especially now that we have Mr. Karan—”

  “Leave?” boomed a jovial voice from the back. “But you just arrived.”

  They all turned. The shopkeeper had reemerged from the rear of his shop, but he wasn’t the source of the voice: next to him stood Second Son Natesh, two royal guards, and a tall man dressed entirely in black. The short handles of two swords protruded above his back. Raksaka. Aniri’s mind grappled with that while taking in the rest: the guards already had their pistols out, pointed at them. Natesh’s smile was wide as he sauntered toward them. The front door was just behind them, but there was no chance of them all making it.

  They were caught.

  “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Natesh said, coming to a stop well out of arm’s reach and flanked by his guards and raksaka. The shopkeeper lurked in back, li
ke a mouse. Karan had shifted to place his large body between her and them, hand fishing under his cloak for what Aniri assumed would be his pistols. After a moment, Devesh also stepped in front of her, but Aniri knew it was a futile gesture on both their parts.

  She slid between Devesh and Karan. “Natesh,” she said coolly, scrambling for some plan that wouldn’t land them all in the Second Son’s grasp. Or dead on an obscure shopkeeper’s floor. “Wish I could say this was a surprise. Or pleasant.”

  “Oh now, don’t be that way, Third Daughter of Dharia,” he said with a cocky grin. “I was being completely honest when I said your adventures have been quite entertaining. You’ve given us a run with your antics. And we’ve been concerned about the Second Daughter as well. We’ve looked all over the city for you both, once we discovered the Queen-to-be’s bedchamber empty. Well, not quite empty.” He peered around Aniri, Devesh, and Karan to check out Janak and Seledri hanging back behind them. “Speaking of which, where is my brother? I thought sure he had decided to secret his lovely wife out of the city. Imagine my surprise to find you doing his work for him.”

  “Guess you’ll have to work out your family issues on your own.”

  Natesh’s grin turned into a sneer. “I didn’t quite anticipate your extreme familial loyalty. But I must say it was considerate of you to deliver your sister out of hiding and directly into our hands.”

  Aniri’s face grew hot. That was exactly what she had managed to do, in spite of all her efforts. She sensed Devesh and Karan shift behind her, drawing closer. She didn’t know their plan, but perhaps it was still possible to talk their way out of this.

  “You needn’t bother with us, really,” Aniri said, trying to tamp down the panic making her chest tight. “We’ll be on our way and no trouble to you and whatever plans you have for your reign. It matters not to Dharia who wears the crown in Samir.”

  “Oh, but I think it does matter. A great deal.” Natesh smirked again. “Just not in the way you suppose, Aniri.” He sighed, as if suddenly bored with the conversation. Tipping his head to his raksaka, he said, “The Second Daughter is to die by poisoning. Please ensure there is no evidence to the contrary. As for the Third Daughter…” He held out a hand to one of his guards, who passed over his gun. “I will take care of that myself.”