Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  She and Priya traveled the length of the top floor, but all the royal guest rooms, except Seledri’s, were vacant. The meeting rooms on the next level down were likewise unused. But at the ground level, there was much moving of furniture and crates and goods of all kinds. Dozens of people carted items out of the palace and into the courtyard, then returned empty-handed for more.

  “My lady?” Priya asked, puzzled. “Perhaps they are making room for more festivities?”

  “I don’t think so, Priya.” Whatever was happening, the people carrying out the contents of the royal household wore grim expressions in their work.

  While Aniri and Priya watched, a single-file line of bedraggled prisoners emerged from the stairwell to the levels below. Heavily armed guards, two for every shackled inmate, accompanied them in a slow procession that took them outside. Priya and Aniri edged toward the large doors of the palace, which were thrown open. Outside, a shashee-drawn cart awaited the prisoners. The cart looked to be used for hauling coal, now repurposed to carry human cargo.

  “Prisoners?” Aniri asked, wondering why they were being moved.

  “From the prince’s dungeons, it would appear.” Priya pulled back from an especially massive and smelly man shuffling past them, shackled both hand and foot. Only then did Aniri recognize them as the Samirian crew from aboard the skyship—from before Aniri, Ash, Karan, and Priya led a mutiny against them and claimed it for the prince. Ash was moving them out of the underground dungeons. But why?

  The last of the prisoners filed up from the depths of the palace. At the end of the line came Ash, dressed in adventuring clothes and dark boots that appeared to have already seen rough usage. He was dusty from head to foot and walked along with the final guard, head bent close, talking quietly. He didn’t notice Aniri and Priya, buried in his discussion as he followed the prisoners.

  He paused at the door to the palace and said to the guard, “The Samirians destroyed much of the embassy property before we arrested them. There may be doors which you cannot yet adequately secure. Check every one, and in the meantime, keep the prisoners shackled.”

  “Our tinkers are at work on it, your majesty,” the guard said. “Last I heard, they should have the entire embassy building secure soon.”

  “Good. Still… be on your guard. Some of these traitors are Garesh’s men, but many were employed at the embassy. They know the building better than you do.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” The guard strode after the line of prisoners.

  Ash watched them go, running a hand through his hair and looking more harried than Aniri had ever seen. She hesitated to interrupt his thoughts, but before she could decide whether to bother him or retreat, a woman emerged from the same stairwell and strode toward him. Her dark hair was bound back, and she was dressed in dust-covered work clothes like Ash, but Aniri recognized Nisha immediately. She was intent on a parchment clutched in her hand, looking up only when she reached Ash.

  Nisha’s eyebrows flew up when she saw Aniri, stalling out whatever urgent message she had for the prince.

  But Ash noticed his sister-in-law’s approach and turned to her. “Nisha, tell me we’ll have enough room.” Then he startled when he recognized Aniri and Priya standing nearby. The shock quickly morphed into a scowl and a short nod. “Aniri.” He seemed torn whether to say anything more, finally settling on, “I thought you had taken the tour with your mother.”

  Nisha jumped in. “Actually, I’m glad Aniri is here,” she said, a shade too cheerily. “I could use her help in preparing the rooms below.”

  “What rooms?” Aniri asked.

  The scowl Ash had for Aniri had nothing on the ground-burning glare he sent to Nisha. “You do not need additional help. And if you do, there is no need to burden the princess with it. I will obtain more assistants for you.” He signaled one of the many keepers moving the royal household contents out of the palace.

  “I don’t need assistants,” Nisha said archly. “I need someone to consult on the rigors of our plans.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” Aniri said. “Waiting for my mother to finish her royal duties can be excessively tedious.”

  “Very well,” Ash said, now glaring equally at both of them. The staff he had just signaled arrived at his side, but he waved him away. Confused, the man glanced at them, seemed to realize they were all royalty except for Priya, and beat a hasty retreat. “Come with us, then,” Ash said to Aniri. He strode toward the stairwell without waiting for a response.

  Aniri gave Nisha a wide-eyed shake of her head. “Are you sure this is wise?” she whispered as they fell in behind Ash’s retreating back.

  “Absolutely,” she said, smiling broadly.

  Priya looked delighted as well. Aniri’s stomach, meanwhile, was twisting itself into knots. The last thing she wanted was to anger Ash even further. That would only add a burden on top of the ones he was already carrying. She wanted to help, not hinder. But she trusted Nisha, so they descended the stairs after Ash.

  He had already disappeared down the darkened stairwell.

  The palace was built farther into the mountain than she ever suspected. Three levels down, they came to a dank series of cells that must have been previously occupied by the prisoners. The walls were carved from the bare granite of the mountain, and the floors were no more than dirt. Iron bars had been driven into the rock ceiling and walls to create a series of cages. It was far from hospitable, and smelled of unwashed bodies and mildew, but Aniri was glad to see no instruments of torture or any other dark devices. Although she should have known that a prince who went to great lengths to house even his enemies safely wouldn’t resort to such measures.

  “As you can see,” Ash said, gesturing to the cells with a both arms out, his voice still tinged with bitterness, “we’ve emptied the cells and are working on reclaiming this space.”

  “For what purpose?” Aniri asked, although she was beginning to guess already.

  “Bunkers,” Ash replied, the sarcasm fading. “In the event of aerial attack, we need a place for the people to go for protection.”

  Aniri glanced around. The cells were probably at capacity with just the two dozen or so prisoners Ash had just relocated. “There isn’t much room.”

  Ash sighed. “No. Not nearly enough. But these lowest levels could hold many children, at least temporarily. And the two levels above can hold more. The entire palace is a fortress of stone, but each level down from the top will be successively more impervious to attack.”

  “You plan to bring children here?” Aniri asked carefully. Priya was lifting her skirts to keep them out of the dust, but it seemed a pointless gesture. The air itself carried the fine grit everywhere.

  A dark look crossed Ash’s face.

  “Just temporarily,” Nisha said brightly. “I was tallying how many would fit.”

  “Perhaps you could bring a few down here to acclimate first?” Aniri suggested. “Maybe allow them to bring their paints and decorate? Make it less frightening for the others.”

  The clouds vanished from Ash’s face, and even in the flickering gaslamps that dimly lit the dungeon, she could see her idea had affected him. He turned to Nisha, “Is that something you could arrange?”

  “Of course,” Nisha said, giving Aniri a smile.

  “Is there more room on the levels above?” Aniri asked Ash, but he had already turned away.

  “Once we clear them out, yes,” he said over his shoulder, not looking at her. “Would you like to visit them as well?”

  He was inviting her. She hoped that was a positive thing, and not him dragging her off to chastise her for meddling.

  Nisha chirped, “Priya, dear. Can you give me a hand with sweeping this cell? I want to see if we’ve anything below all this dust that can decently be made into a floor.”

  Priya immediately said, “Yes, of course, my lady.” She grabbed a whisk broom that was leaned against one of the open cells and quickly tiptoed after Nisha toward the far side of the cells.
/>   Ash gave her a look that made her think there was definitely a chastisement in her future, but she followed him back up the stairs anyway. They passed several more staff headed down to assist in the dungeon. The next level up was larger, but still nowhere near the size of the other floors above ground. It was sectioned into rooms, some by low walls, some by complete walls with doors, all of which were open as more staff circulated in and out, clearing the last of the contents. At least this level had painted walls and a smoothed stone floor, but it still appeared to be carved out of the mountain.

  To forestall Ash’s complaints, whatever they were, Aniri broke the silence first. “You are most fortunate to have such bunker-like accommodations already built, right here in the palace. Dharia will not be so similarly equipped.”

  “It won’t be enough.” His eyes bored into hers.

  “No,” she said, chastened. “I suppose not.”

  They stepped aside to allow a pair of household keepers to pass. They were carrying a crate—a quite heavy one from the way their muscles strained.

  When the workers had disappeared into the stairwell, Ash dropped his voice even further. “Aniri.”

  She ignored his bid to start whatever argument he wished to have and gestured to the workers emerging from the stairwell carrying jugs. “Are you storing supplies down here as well?”

  He gritted his teeth, then said, “Yes. In the event we suffer a sustained attack.”

  She casually strolled down the hallway.

  He hesitated then followed.

  She dropped her voice so the other milling staff wouldn’t overhear. “Have you told the people of the full threat?”

  He sighed, clearly impatient with her stalling. “Only a few trusted staff members. But word will spread quickly enough. I will have to address the people soon, as will your mother when she returns.”

  Aniri nodded. “I honestly wish we had been able to confirm the extent of the Samirians’ capabilities whilst still in country. But, Ash—” She stopped him with a touch on his elbow that she instantly regretted, even if he didn’t pull away. “They are much more advanced than we are, technologically. You probably already knew that, but it was a shock to me to see all the mechanicks their tinkers have conjured. I have no doubt that they’re capable of building an armada, if not now, then soon.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there any hope of building a counter-fleet?”

  He gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, but it would take months. Or longer. And we haven’t the resources the Samirians have, Aniri. We need time, and I’m afraid we have precious little of it.”

  She ignored the flush of warmth that her name on his lips surged up. “Dharia can help with that. The Queen has tinkers with experience with shipbuilding.”

  “I know. Your mother and I have discussed it. But the Samirian infrastructure is so much larger than ours and even more extensive than your mother’s. The Samirians have a head start that may be insurmountable.”

  They had reached the far end of the hallway, which dead-ended into a wall of rock. Aniri placed her hand on it—not as cold as she expected, for being underground. “You have so many resources in the mountains: the navia. The mines. And the love of your people, Ash. You can do much with that.”

  Ash closed his eyes briefly and sucked in a breath. “Aniri.”

  “What?”

  He glanced down the hall. The closest staff member was two dozen feet away. Still, Ash lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Aniri asked, although she suspected they had reached the chastisement portion of their conversation. She wanted to steer it away again, but she had avoided it long enough. Whatever he had to say, she could endure it, just as she had mustered the courage to speak to his skyship crew and his people in the square.

  Instead of rebuking her, he took her by the elbow and pulled her inside an empty room next to them. Shiny spots on the floor spoke of furniture recently moved, but the mustiness of the room implied it had been used infrequently in its time before being designated a bunker.

  Ash closed the door, then pressed a fist against the frame. When he turned to her, an intense look had taken hold of his face.

  “Aniri, just… stop.”

  “Stop what?” She crossed her arms over her linen blouse and tried hard not to shrink under his demanding glare.

  He stepped closer, eyes pleading her to make this easier. “Stop trying to… fix this.”

  She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Is it working?”

  “Aniri.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and she bit her lip. “You want me to stop talking to your people?”

  He frowned, but said, “Yes.”

  “And stop trying to help?”

  Frustration twisted his face. “It’s not that—”

  “And stop dancing in the streets and proclaiming how you’re the best King that Jungali could ever hope to have?”

  “Aniri, please.”

  She unfolded her arms and stepped closer. She was nearly toe-to-toe with him, peering defiantly up into his face. “Well, I’m not going to stop. Not until I’ve fixed the damage I’ve done. Or run out of ways to try. Because some things are worth fighting for, Ash. Things like your sister when the Samirians are threatening her life. Things like your country when a fleet of ships could sweep out of the sky at any moment and destroy it. Things like a prince who dares to give everything he has to his people.”

  His eyes went wide with her speech and her intensity.

  She hesitated, but only for a moment, her temper rising to full steam. “You’re a noble man, Ash. The most noble I’ve ever known. You’re good and decent and righteous, and believe me, I know exactly how rare that is—in anyone, but especially in a royal. You fight for peace and for your country and for everyone else. And someone like that, someone like you, is worth fighting for.” Somewhere in the middle she had started to stab him in the chest with her finger.

  His pale amber eyes blazed. “Say that again.”

  “Which part?” She pressed her lips tight, her face burning with having laid her heart so bare.

  “All of it,” he demanded.

  She would say it as many times as he liked. “I’m not going to stop—”

  He cut her off with a kiss so intense she would have stumbled back into the wall had he not captured her in his arms. He kissed her again and again, then deepened the kiss and pressed her backward until she was finally flush against the wall. It was cool on her back, but the heat of Ash’s lips and hands set her body on fire. Her hands dug through his hair and bunched his shirt. His body was pressed against every part of her, and still, she couldn’t get enough.

  His kisses traveled across her cheek and down her neck, and she gasped, needing air and feeling as if her chest might explode with the surges in her heart.

  “Gods, Aniri, what you do to me,” he whispered in her ear, his voice hoarse.

  She brought his lips back to hers. There were no words she wanted more than his kisses. He smothered her with them, and her heart soared. Then she suddenly had to know. Had to hear it. She pulled away from the kiss, tucked her face into the crook of his shoulder, and held him tight with her arms around his neck.

  “Am I forgiven?” she whispered into his collar, barely letting the words escape her lips.

  He slowly tugged her hands from around his neck and held them close to his chest. “Now.” His voice was husky. “We need to be married right now.”

  Her smile was hesitant, afraid if she let it show on her face, her heart might burst. “But… what about…?”

  He pulled her away from the wall and dipped his head to capture her with that intense stare again. “Now.”

  Her nods were tiny but frantic. “Now,” she whispered. Then her smile broke loose.

  He captured her in another kiss, then clasped her hand in his and towed her to the door.

  Ash and Aniri wove around the contents of the royal household—which were now littered across the c
ourtyard—holding hands and nearly running in their haste. They were well disguised in adventuring clothes, and if anyone noticed Prince Malik and the Third Daughter of Dharia fleeing the palace, hand-in-hand, as if on a mad caper, they certainly didn’t try to stop them.

  After they left the courtyard and wound down one street, and then another, Aniri tugged on Ash’s hand to slow his pace. She couldn’t tame her smile, and the intense look on his face was starting to give way to one as well.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, breathless.

  “To find a priestess, of course.” His tentative smile broke into a grin, and he curled their clasped hands closer to his body. They rounded another corner to a street less busy than the main ones which branched out from the palace.

  “You’re not worried about what the people will think?” Aniri asked, catching her breath a little as they slowed down. “I thought eloping would make them wonder about the legitimacy of the marriage.” She was teasing him, mostly. There was nothing that could keep her from marrying Ash as soon as they could find a priestess to perform the ritual.

  Ash tugged her to a stop and kissed her quickly. “The people already love you. I’m mostly concerned that your mother will flay us both alive.” His smile said he did not, in fact, care at all.

  She stood on her toes and dropped a quick kiss on his lips in return. “She’s been ready to adopt you from the start. I’m fairly certain you could do no wrong in her eyes.”

  His smile tempered. “And in yours?”

  “If I had a Daughter, I’d want her to marry you, too.”

  He laughed outright, then cupped her cheeks and kissed her more thoroughly. She didn’t mind in the slightest, but she playfully nudged him away. “Time for that after we visit the temple.”

  His eyes flashed, his gaze drifting to her lips. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, and his touch warmed every part of her. Suddenly, the idea of consummating their marriage seemed an urgent task. Ash took her hand in his again and strode even faster down the winding Jungali street.

  They passed tinker shops and vegetable stands. Beast-drawn carriages rumbled past, along with human-drawn carts filled with lighter goods. The people were dressed in a rainbow of colors, and their goods were just as vibrant. Bhakti was smaller, less busy, less advanced, more colorful, and different in a thousand other ways from the Samirian capital of Mahatvak. And she couldn’t be happier that it would soon become her home for good.