Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Aniri found Priya sitting with a little girl. The child’s face had been bloodied, and Priya tended to her wounds while telling her an outrageous story about Devpahar digging crystals the size of the girl’s head out of the ground, just so she could wear them for earrings on her massive shaggy ears during the Festival dance in her honor. Priya smiled up at Aniri without breaking her story, and Aniri tried hard to call a smile to her face. But she couldn’t. She laid a hand on the girl’s head, gently and briefly, and moved on.

  When she’d finished with the ground level, she moved up to the next floor. Nisha was there, directing the healers to the most critical amongst the wounded. Aniri drifted past, feeling more like a ghost with each touch, each empty wave. But she kept going. Finally, when she’d walked every room in the palace, she returned to the top level.

  It was half gone and nearly empty. A couple of sailors padded down the stairs, in search of supplies for Karan as he scrambled to patch up the ship, but the sailors didn’t stop at the level that housed the royal family. Or had, until half of it was bombed.

  For once, Aniri was glad for First Daughter Nahali’s stubbornness. She had refused to come with their mother, unwilling to reunite with Seledri. If Nahali had come to Jungali, she might well be dead. As it was, she was safely in Dharia, in command. Aniri had messaged her, using their mother’s aetheroceiver, immediately after the attack.

  SAMARIANS SKYSHIP ATTACK MOTHER INJURED SELEDRI KIDNAPPED

  Aniri had left out that Ash was missing and the extent of the carnage within the city and deep within her heart. She had to trust that any Samirian spies that might intercept the message would already know what had happened that day in the Jungali capital of Bhakti.

  Nahali had messaged back right away.

  WILL SEND HEALERS SUPPLIES MUNITIONS PRAYERS

  It was terse. But it was exactly what they needed. Nahali would make a fine Queen someday. Perhaps even this day. A shudder ran through Aniri once again at the thought of how gravely injured her mother was. Janak had refused to leave her side, and now that the immediate danger had passed, there was no force on earth that would make Aniri tell him he needed to.

  Aniri’s slow steps led eventually to her mother’s guest room. The healer had gone, and her mother’s handmaiden flitted about the room, keeping at the ready. Her mother lay on the bed. When Aniri had last visited, her mother had been asleep, and Janak had been in a chair, a hand laid upon hers. A startled flush of warmth filled Aniri to see her mother was now awake.

  Janak kneeled next to her mother on the bed, propping pillows behind her and helping her into a more comfortable sitting position. She winced from the pain that caused, but the healer must have given her some vapors, because the tiny lines of pain that radiated from her mother’s eyes before had been mostly erased. Seeing her mother move at all warmed the deathly chill that had taken hold of Aniri’s heart.

  She hurried to her mother’s side of the bed, looking for some way to help, but Janak had already settled her into place. Rather than rising from the bed, he eased into it, sitting next to her and draping his arm behind her, like a protective embrace that enclosed all of the space around her. His gaze never left her face, and she gave him a small smile of gratitude in return. It was a tiny but surprisingly intimate moment that made Aniri falter in her greeting. That, and she wasn’t sure what her mother knew about the state of things. Nor did Aniri want to alarm her while she was so gravely injured.

  After a moment, Aniri said quietly, “How are you faring, Mother?”

  “Better.” But her voice was weak. “I’m sure I’ll be up and about soon enough.”

  “The healer says you’ll do no such thing.” Janak’s normally stoic face was a torment of half-lidded guilt, concern, and a sternness born of worry. Aniri could only imagine the internal pain he must be enduring, having failed to keep the assassin from lodging a bullet in the woman he loved. “You were extremely lucky,” he chastised her, then turned to Aniri to explain. “The healer says the bullet passed through without damaging anything tremendously serious. But she needs her rest. I’ve already lost two arguments in favor of more sleeping and heavier vapors. Perhaps you can impress upon your mother the importance of the Queen taking proper care of her health.” Without giving Aniri a chance to say anything, he turned back to her mother. “I do not approve of you tempting the patience of the gods with insufficient rest. The world will carry on without you for a spell.”

  “You worry too much.” Her mother put a hand to his cheek. Janak leaned ever so slightly into it and closed his eyes momentarily.

  It was so gentle that it made Aniri’s heart melt a little. The way Janak looked into her mother’s eyes, Aniri was certain it had melted him all the way through.

  “I already have a handmaiden to fuss over me,” her mother said, quietly, “and now a healer too. I don’t need you to worry about me any further.”

  “Are you firing me, Queen Amala?” His voice was soft, his face close to hers. And he was using her name. No one ever did that anymore, not even her Daughters. Aniri had noticed it before, but now her mother was awake to hear it as well.

  “Can you fire a raksaka?” her mother mused in a teasing voice. “They seem awfully difficult to get rid of.”

  “I assure you, my Queen, we have our weaknesses.”

  Aniri glanced at the handmaiden, who was quickly fleeing the room. Perhaps Aniri should leave them alone as well. Then her mother’s aetheroceiver, sitting on the table at her bedside, caught Aniri’s eye. She should take it with her and message Nahali again, to see when they might expect those supplies to arrive. Especially the healers with their medicines and tinctures.

  She tried to catch Janak’s eye, but his attention was absorbed by his Queen.

  “You have your own habit of catching bullets,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I don’t recall you being willing to take an appropriate rest when duty called.”

  “The last thing you should do is take lessons from me.” The anguished look was back on Janak’s face. “With regards to almost anything.”

  Aniri backed away from the bed. “I’ll return when you’re better rested, Mother.”

  But her mother didn’t let her get two steps. “Aniri, wait.” Her voice gained a bit of her normal command. “Janak told me about the Samirians kidnapping Seledri. Have they contacted you yet?”

  “No.” Aniri rushed to soften that word and reduce the worry on her mother’s face. “But I can’t imagine they would hurt her, Mother. Else they would have done worse than steal her away.”

  Her mother nodded, but the worry didn’t diminish. “Any word about Ash?”

  Aniri’s mouth opened to answer but nothing came out. She closed it again, then forced out another, “No.” This time, she couldn’t find any reassurances to offer, her heart iced over with the fear that had eaten at the edges of her mind. Her mother’s sympathetic look just carved deeper into Aniri’s frozen heart.

  “Prince Malik sought my opinion on the security at the embassy, in order to move the prisoners there,” Janak said. “And I hear they are missing as well. Is it possible he was at the embassy when the bombing started?”

  “Yes. Well, not exactly.”

  Her mother’s eyebrows had hiked up.

  “Ash and I had…” Pledged our hearts. Promised ourselves. Tried to make our vows. “We had reconciled,” she said stiffly. “We were at the temple next to the embassy.”

  Even Janak raised his eyebrows at that. He snuck a look to her mother, but she wasn’t angry. More like trying to hide her smile. If Aniri’s heart wasn’t frozen, she would have smiled in return.

  She forced herself to continue. “The blasts began at the gate. I was thrown. And unconscious for a few moments, possibly longer. When I roused, Ash was already gone. It’s possible the prisoners found him first and took him after the blast. Janak, there were more than just two raksaka who entered through the gate.”

  Janak’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”

  �
�Four.” A chill shuddered through her. If the prisoners had Ash, it was possible they would kill him. Probable even. For revenge. For spite. Or simply because he was a royal, and they were fleeing his city. With raksaka in their company, ones obviously bent on killing the royals in the capital, Aniri couldn’t imagine why they would keep him alive, even as her heart desperately protested that thought.

  “And the raksaka entered through the gate,” Janak said.

  “Well, there wasn’t exactly a gate left after the Samirians dropped their bomb upon it. Or much of the street or the embassy entrance for that matter.”

  “That does not make sense.” Janak’s normal scowling face returned.

  “I took a knock to the head, Janak. But I know what I saw.”

  “I’m not questioning you, Aniri,” he said softly. “But raksaka would hardly need to bomb the gate to gain entrance to the city.”

  It was Aniri’s turn to lift her eyebrows. Of course. Raksaka could steal in any way they wished. “So the bombings. They were simply to terrorize us. Perhaps provide a distraction.”

  “Or provide a way back out.”

  “But they never intended to leave the way they came. Seledri’s kidnapping wasn’t by opportunity, it was planned. The raksaka who stole her from the roof was prepared with a harness, and…” Aniri stalled out. The aetheroceiver. “And they had a means for messaging the skyship when they were ready.”

  Janak nodded. “The one who attacked your mother had an aetheroceiver strapped to his back.”

  Aniri glanced around the room. The raksaka’s body had long been removed, and the handmaiden had taken away the floor coverings soaked with his blood, but the aetheroceiver still lay tucked in the corner of the room. Aniri hurried over to retrieve it and bring it back to the bed.

  “They must have had a plan for escape from the beginning.” She set it down next to her mother’s aetheroceiver. They were twins in shape and function, but the Samirian was steel-colored and smaller. “They had four raksaka originally, more than enough to effect an attack on the palace. But then why the bombings?”

  “Perhaps they intended to liberate the prisoners as well,” Janak said. “A line of bombings to the clear a path from the palace to the gate would facilitate the escape of a large group of non-raksaka individuals.”

  Aniri nodded. “And when they found the prisoners at the gate, they changed their plans. Two remained behind to shepherd out the prisoners, while two went ahead to take the palace.”

  “They likely intended to use the aetheroceiver to let the Dagger know of their success at the palace. Or failure,” Janak said. “Battle has a way of shifting plans.”

  Aniri frowned as she studied the Samirian aetheroceiver. Could she unlock this one, like she had Devesh’s? Aniri picked up the box, examining all the small, intricately carved symbols. “The code has a pattern. One that the Jungali have copied.”

  “Our tinkers designed the code into the box as well,” her mother said.

  Janak scowled. “It has always struck me as rather poor security.”

  “But simple,” Aniri said. “And easy to remember under duress. Besides, the enemy may break open the aetheroceiver, regardless, once it is in their hands. Which I will have our tinkers do in short order, should this not work.” Aniri ran her fingers across the box. It took three symbols to unlock—a tinker, a crown, and a ship—the three symbols of Samirian prowess. She quickly found the tinker, plus a sleek Samirian trade ship with sails turned sideways that was clearly the skyship in disguise. That left at least a dozen crowns—she would have to try them all. By the fifth one, it unfolded, revealing the cranks and the code wheel of the aetheroceiver within.

  Aniri dug through the box, but there were no messages left waiting to be discovered. She glanced to the spot where the fallen raksaka had been. “What if they never had time to message the Dagger?”

  “They had to have messaged at least once to arrange transport,” Janak said.

  “But they may not know their raksaka is now dead.”

  “You think they’re still expecting another message?” Janak asked skeptically.

  Aniri gestured to the empty spot where the raksaka had been. “If this raksaka had survived, but missed the rendezvous with the Dagger…”

  Janak frowned. “…he would be working his way out of the city. And trying to meet the rendezvous point with the prisoners.”

  “And, perhaps, sending them another message.”

  Janak straightened in his place next to the Queen, although obviously not intending to leave her side. “It’s worth a try, my lady.”

  Aniri cranked the wind-up of the aetheroceiver. It whirred and clacked its tiny metal gears.

  “Janak, what if they have the prince with them?” She didn’t want to speak her fears that he was already dead, but now that they might actually find where they had taken him…

  “Determine the location for the rendezvous first,” Janak said, softly. “Then we’ll find a way to retrieve the prince.” Of course, Janak could help, if he was willing to leave the Queen’s side. Even if he wasn’t, she had an entire capital filled with Jungali who would give their lives for their prince. And, with any luck, soon the Prosperity would be flightworthy again to help as well.

  Aniri took the tiny pencil and paper tucked in the back of the aetheroceiver and wrote her first message.

  CALLING DAGGER

  It was vague enough. Hopefully someone on the other end would be waiting. A long minute stretched into two.

  Aniri tapped her foot. “When we were above the Dagger in the Prosperity, the Samirians sailed east and kept going.”

  “They could easily have crossed the horizon and circled back.”

  Aniri nodded and wound the aetheroceiver once more. “Maybe they’ve already—”

  The aetheroceiver started clacking, spitting out a response. Aniri’s heart thudded in her chest as she took the symbols one by one and transcribed them. She gritted her teeth halfway through, but finished it before straightening and reading it aloud.

  THE DASHING THIRD DAUGHTER I PRESUME

  Janak let out a low breath. “It’s Natesh.”

  Her mother said, “Aniri, that doesn’t mean—”

  The aetheroceiver started clacking again, making Aniri jump. A new message was coming through. She transcribed it again, her hand gripping the pencil so tight her bones ached. A shiver ran the full length of her body as she read it aloud.

  HAVE YOUR PRINCE AND SISTER

  She picked up the aetheroceiver and clutched it. She wanted to throw it across the room. No—out the window and down the thousand foot ravine outside. Her hands shook as she slowly set it down.

  “What does he want?” her mother asked, her voice tight.

  “He wants what he’s wanted all along.” Janak’s voice had gone grave as well.

  “He wants the crown of Samir,” Aniri said. “And of Dharia and Jungali, too.”

  “Does he seriously expect we will surrender our countries?” Her mother’s voice grew stronger, indignant, but it didn’t matter. Aniri knew it didn’t matter. “And how can he expect to threaten royalty like that? If he harms them, he has to know there will be a price.”

  “He’s not concerned about any price we can exact,” Janak said.

  “They have an armada, Mother,” Aniri said dully, the fog threatening to press in on her mind once more. They have Ash. They would kill him if she didn’t surrender his country to them. And Ash, should he live, would never forgive her for that. But Aniri had already seen the destruction that one ship could do.

  One.

  The aetheroceiver clacked again. It was like the bones of a skeleton rattling against her back. Her stomach clenched as she watched the symbols spit from the device in a long, thin parchment of demands. When it stopped, she just looked at it for a moment, unwilling to render the black printed lines into something with meaning. Because she knew all too well what it would say. Her hands shook as she forced her eyes to compare symbol-to-letter and etc
h each transcribed letter, one by one, onto the strip.

  She held it up, but she couldn’t force her lips to say the words.

  SURRENDER NOW AND I WILL SPARE EVERYONE

  “What does it say?” Her mother’s voice was strained.

  Aniri crumpled up the thin piece of aetheroceiver paper she had just transcribed and threw it on the floor.

  “It says we’re at war.”

  The Royals of Dharia trilogy concludes with First Daughter!

  start First Daughter now

  **all Susan's books are in Kindle Unlimited**

  The war has begun, and with the Queen of Dharia on her deathbed, Aniri’s excessively-proper eldest sister, First Daughter Nahali, finally sees her chance to claim the crown. Aniri and Nahali have never seen eye-to-eye, not since they were girls running through the palace courtyard, but with Prince Malik and Second Daughter Seledri kidnapped, Aniri can’t afford to fight with her sister.

  So she follows the First Daughter’s orders and prepares for a war she fears will destroy everything she loves. Her sister has spent her entire life preparing for this job—Aniri prays to the gods Nahali knows what she’s doing.

  But when the Queen calls the two Daughters to her bedside, she sends Nahali off to prepare for war… and tasks Aniri with a secret mission. She must go after the power-mad prince of Samir and stop his deadly skyship. It may cost Aniri everything, including a chance to ever return home, but she defies the First Daughter’s orders and embarks on a desperate mission to save the people she loves from a war that will tear all three Queendoms apart.

  FIRST DAUGHTER is the final book in the Royals of Dharia Trilogy. It is told from Aniri’s point of view.