He tenses, his voice strained. “I’m trying, Kali. I have a lot on my mind.”
More than Brother Shaan’s passing wears on him. His mother and brother, Mathura and Brac, were stranded at the border between the empire and the sultanate. Two Galers were sent to find them but have yet to return. Each day we wait increases Deven’s angst.
I cup his smooth cheek. “I know you are.”
He leans into my touch. His features are an appealing mishmash of hard planes and pliable smoothness, like his two main roles: soldier and dedicated worshiper of the Parijana faith. I bring my lips to his. He tugs me closer, and his sandalwood scent fills me up. His body heat skims mine but does not soak in or alleviate the cold inside me. I disregard whatever that may imply and trail my fingers up his neck. Hot need builds at the base of my throat, yet the frost within me perseveres. I pull away, breathless and shivering.
Deven’s soft brown eyes study me. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” I don’t know. “I should lie down.”
I use my cane to stand, but Deven sweeps me into his arms. My feet flail out, and my hands fly up to his neck. “Put me down!”
“All right,” he says evenly and then starts for the wheelhouse.
I pull the skirt of my petticoat and sari close beneath me. “You said you’d put me down.”
“I will . . . on your cot.”
“But I can walk!”
Deven calls ahead. “Coming through!”
A chair blocks our path. Indah and Pons dine on a late breakfast of mashed fruit and currants. Pons’s hair hangs down his back; the top and sides of his head are shaved. He grabs Indah’s seat and slides her out of our way. I blush at their open stares. The Aquifier and the Galer are in love, yet they do not show it with public demonstrations. I sense Pons would if Indah were willing, but she is private about her affections.
Deven carries me through the open wheelhouse door and lies down with me, our bodies filling the cot. “See? That wasn’t so awful.”
I sink against him. “I could burn your nose off for that.”
“You like my nose.”
“I do,” I say, kissing the tip.
He slides his rough palm under my blouse and across my bare back. His touch warms me in places Ashwin’s kiss could never reach. I press my lips to Deven’s again, indulging in the sensation of his body tight against mine. My fingers creep across his muscled shoulders, but his jacket prevents them from meeting skin, constricting my touch. Deven does not stop kissing me while he undoes his front buttons, preparing to take off his jacket.
The door swings open, and Natesa pulls up short. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Her eyes sparkle at finding us entwined. “We’ve reached the river mouth. A Lestarian ship is waiting.”
Deven nuzzles my ear. “Someday I’ll have you to myself,” he says in a husky rumble.
A warm chill courses down my neck. “I’ll hold you to that.” I kiss him once more and sit up. Dizziness whams me from rising too fast, and I sag forward.
“You should lie down,” Deven says, rebuttoning his jacket.
“I’m fine. Just give me a moment.” After a few more breaths, my vision clears.
Deven places his hand on my shoulder. “Kali, you really should stay here.”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap. I know I am weaker than usual. He need not constantly remind me. “Natesa, please hand me my cane.”
Deven grabs the cane and thrusts it at me. Natesa shrinks away and tiptoes out. Deven is worried about my health, but I have greater concerns.
“I have to greet the Lestarians,” I explain. “Our first impression must reflect well on the empire.”
Indah assured Ashwin and me that we can rely on Datu Bulan, the ruler of the Southern Isles, for aid, but we are placing a lot of faith in a stranger. The Voider is positioned at the head of the most powerful army in the land. We can only hope the datu will recognize the threat he poses and join us to stop him.
I stand and temper my frustration. “I need to go, Deven.”
“You also need to take care of yourself.” He reaches for a stray hair against my cheek. I swipe it away before he can, and he draws back, hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Embracing my throne means accepting my responsibility to assist Ashwin. “We need to keep our distance now that—”
“No need to explain.” Deven adjusts the cuffs of his jacket with short, irritated jerks. “It would reflect poorly on the empire for the kindred to favor her guard.”
“It’s only for a little while.” I seek out his understanding, but his expression remains defensive.
Ashwin appears at the door. “Kalinda,” he says tentatively, gauging Deven’s scowl and oppositional posture. “Indah is asking for us.”
“I’m coming,” I say, leaning into my cane. Even though Deven is upset with me, he hovers close, as though expecting me to topple.
Anu, please don’t let my legs give out or I’ll never hear the end of it.
By gods’ virtue, I cross the wheelhouse on my own, and Ashwin leads the way.
2
DEVEN
I grab my sword from behind the wheelhouse door and follow the click-clack of Kali’s cane. Since sustaining her injuries, her already tall, lean frame has thinned to frailty. She stoops over like a crane, her healing leg quaking from exertion.
Skies, she’s stubborn.
Helping her would be easier if she would quit interpreting my aid as her failing. She is not weak; she is in need. Before the Voider blasted her with his cold-fire, Kali shone bright as the sun and enchanted nature-fire into a huge, fiery dragon. It hurts to see her struggling.
Indah and two more Lestarian Aquifiers use their powers to guide our skiff across the choppy delta waters. I managed to avoid seasickness on the smooth-flowing river, but my stomach is less enthused about the open water. On either side of the inlet, the coastline stretches into the distance, dotted with palm trees along alabaster beaches. The rest of my party line up at the rail, staring at the waiting ship.
The larger watercraft is more suitable for open seas, with a flat bottom, high bow, and lower stern. I estimate its length at three hundred cubits and width about half that size. The exterior has been painted a true blue, and the prow is shaped into the head of a sea dragon. The military vessel has a single mast but no sails or steering oar. Aquifier sailors stationed on the starboard and port sides power the vessel. Hollow barrels are mounted at the stern—water cannons. The Lestarian Navy protects merchant and passenger vessels from the raiders that troll these waters. A serpentine sea dragon, mirroring the prow, decorates the amethyst flag snapping in the wind atop the mast.
We reach the navy vessel and stop before the teak hull inscribed with the name Enki’s Heart. Pons throws the line up to the sailors. They fasten it and drop a rope ladder. I climb the ladder first. Two older official-looking men wait to greet us on the pristine deck. The crew consists of men and women, all in baggy knee-length trousers and tunics.
One of the older men with a long white beard holds a trident as I would a staff. He is chewing a wad of something green—mint? I heard mint chewing is a popular pastime among sailors. The Lestarians watch me with their golden eyes. I leave my sword sheathed and return their scrutiny.
Prince Ashwin arrives next and then helps Kali off the ladder. I do not react, pretending her accepting his help does not bother me, but I want to pitch him overboard. I barely restrained myself earlier when I saw him kiss her cheek. A seemingly harmless act, except that he holds the power to force her to wed him. She believes he will not, but I am slow to trust anyone dense enough to release a demon.
Yatin and Natesa come aboard next. Natesa leaves her hand free for the dagger at her waist, mistrustful of the strangers. Yatin’s daunting size and ropy beard cause the strangers to shift nervously, even if he is mild unless provoked.
Pons arrives next, his blowgun wedged in his belt. He is a trained soldier, though his main duty is guarding Indah. He assists her on de
ck, and the white-bearded man with the trident grabs her up in a hug.
“This is my father,” Indah says proudly, “Admiral Rimba, head of the Lestarian Navy. Father, this is Prince Ashwin and Kindred Kalinda.”
The admiral bows. “Welcome aboard. This is Ambassador Chitt,” he says of the nondescript dressed man beside him. “He’s the standing bhuta emissary.”
“Please, call me Chitt,” the ambassador says. Gray streaks mix into his otherwise coppery hair. He is tall, about my height, but rangier in build. Cords of lean muscle run up his forearms and disappear under his thin tunic. He may be a diplomat, but his hands and arms belong to a man acquainted with labor. Something about his rugged features is . . . familiar.
“Kindred, for a time I was your father’s delegate,” he says. “I accompanied him on several mediation missions.”
“His delegate?” Kali asks.
“Kishan was the previous bhuta emissary,” the ambassador replies. The breast of Chitt’s tunic bears the fire-god’s symbol, a single flame. Admiral Rimba wears the water-goddess’s emblem, a wave, on his collar. Both marks identify them as bhutas.
I exchange a glance with Yatin. The sultan employed bhutas in his military as well. They did not treat us well.
“I’d like to hear more about my father sometime,” Kali says.
Ambassador Chitt’s presence niggles at my memory as he answers, “It would be my pleasure.”
Indah picks up where she left off with introductions, continuing until she ends with me. “And this is Captain Deven Naik.”
“General Naik,” Prince Ashwin corrects.
I flinch at my new title of command. After I accosted the prince, I did not think he would honor his word in promoting me to general. And just who am I the general of? We have no army. The only soldier under my command is Yatin, and my friend would follow me anywhere, regardless of my title. If the prince thinks he can persuade me into liking him, he is dimmer than I thought. My father was the army’s previous general. Under the rajah’s direction, he massacred hundreds of innocent bhutas. Inheriting his seat of command is neither a prize nor honor.
“Good to meet you, General Naik,” Chitt says, examining me as well. “We were told you have another passenger, a member of the Brotherhood?”
“He passed away.” I cut a glare at the prince. Brother Shaan worried himself to death because of him. The thought of the Voider let loose in our world was too much for his old heart to handle. I already miss him.
“Has anyone arrived ahead of us?” Kali asks. Pons has been listening to the wind for messages from my family, but none have arrived. “Deven was separated from his brother and mother. They and two Galers, more of our guards, are supposed to meet us in Lestari.”
I pray they are already there.
“We haven’t seen or heard from them,” replies Admiral Rimba, squashing my hopes. He continues, speaking around his mint chewing. “But they could have arrived after we left this morning. We’ll soon find out. We must leave now to reach the isles by sunset.”
He and Indah direct us to a cabin at the center of the deck. Pons falls in line behind them, his expression sterner than usual. It is strange not seeing him beside Indah. Prince Ashwin and Kali follow next with Chitt, who chats politely about the humid weather.
Ahead of me, Natesa whispers to Yatin, “Does the ambassador look familiar to you?”
So it isn’t just me.
I step inside a half second after them and miss Yatin’s answer. Benches with pillows line the rectangular cabin, and the doors slide closed to circumvent the wind. Everyone finds a secure place for travel. Of course Ashwin occupies the seat beside Kali. I sit near the exit, splitting my attention between the foreign navy and my rani.
Sailors shut the sliding doors, leaving the door facing the stern open. The Aquifiers manning the deck lift Enki’s Heart on a mountainous swell and fly us forward on a continuous wave. My fingers curl around edge of the bench. In no time, the ship rocks Kali to sleep. I keep alert, less trusting of our hosts than the others, but my attention wavers as nausea dangles in my belly.
Everyone else watches the passing scenery, unbothered by our bumpy speed. Natesa and Yatin point out seabirds and jumping fish to each other. I scan Natesa’s hands for the lotus ring Yatin saved for her. When he was ill, he asked me to give it to her on his behalf. I told him to hold on to it. Now that he is well, I thought he would propose, but Natesa is not wearing the ring.
Yatin notices my ashen pallor. “Do you need a bucket?” he asks in his gentle burr.
“No, just fresh air.”
I compose myself and leave the cabin. When I am out of the others’ view, I stagger to the rail and retch overboard. Spray shoots up, cooling my cheeks. I empty my stomach and slump over. Past the bow, the sea rolls on with no end in sight. I have never seen anything more empty or dreary.
Chitt steps on deck and joins me. “General, do you know Mathura Naik?”
I gulp down more nausea. “She’s my mother. How do you know her?”
“We met years ago at the palace. She had a little boy with solemn eyes about this tall.” Chitt measures the height of a small child. “He wouldn’t fall asleep without his wooden sword.”
“You spent time in the courtesan’s wing,” I say flatly. They only could have met there. My mother was one of Rajah Tarek’s courtesans.
“Mathura was sent to my chamber.” At Chitt’s use of my mother’s first name, I grip the hilt of my sword. “We talked all night long about my travels. Her curiosity for the world was infectious.”
Tarek forced my mother to entertain his men of court and visiting dignitaries. “You never touched her?” I press.
Chitt’s golden eyes flash. Antagonizing a powerful Burner may not be my brightest idea. “General Naik, I do believe that’s a question for your mother.”
“I’ll be certain to ask her.”
“I hope you do.” He considers me closer. “I heard Mathura has another son.”
“My half brother, Brac.”
“You mentioned you were separated from your family. Are they in danger?”
“I don’t know.”
A frown marks Chitt’s brow. “When we reach Lestari, I’ll do what I can to find them.”
“Why?”
“That’s another question for Mathura.” The ambassador pats my upper back in an overfamiliar gesture. “You had the same grave stare when you were a boy . . . and the same affinity for weapons.” He eyes my sword with a side smile that sends a jolt through me.
I gawk after Chitt as he returns inside. I have seen that smirk a thousand times from someone else . . .
Holy gods, I just met Brac’s father.
3
KALINDA
I wake to find I am alone in the cabin. Out the open doors, our party congregates along the bow. Deven braces against the portside rail, wearing a dazed expression. I meet him on deck, achy but rejuvenated.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“It’s been an odd day.” When no one else is looking, I stroke his hand. His distracted mood peels away, and he smiles. I want to wrap my arms around him, but propriety must be upheld. Deven points past the bow. “We’re here.”
The afternoon sun lights up a far-off wall. The towering pile of stones shoots up from the sea, many times higher than our vessel’s mast. While squinting, I make out a passageway in the barrier. A low, arched bridge, like a strand of a spider’s web, spans the gap.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A breaker. Indah said it encircles the whole island. It fortifies against intruders and errant waves.” Deven sounds impressed, as am I. This wall in the middle of the sea is remarkable.
A dark line on the northern horizon draws my attention. Admiral Rimba stands on the lookout deck on top of the cabin. I call up to him. “What’s that behind us?”
The admiral swivels around and stares past our stern. The line comes into focus—a tremendous wave advances toward us at an alarming pace. He shouts from
above, “Sailors, full ahead! Passengers to the cabin!”
“Good Anu,” Deven breathes.
We grip the rail, and Enki’s Heart races for the island. Seawater mists our faces, and the wind blasts my hair behind me. The crew scrambles to the water cannons. The other members of our party and Ambassador Chitt make their way down the rail from up deck, hand over hand. Deven and I try to let go of the rail and cross the deck into the cabin, but the ship dips and soars over every roller, and the prow splashes up more surf. Despite our increased haste, the tidal wave continues to gain on us.
Natesa gapes at the towering wave. “Where in the skies did it come from?”
Indah pushes her forward. “Everyone inside!”
Deven and I stagger across the deck and into the cabin with them. Out the front window, the protective breaker grows higher and taller. Past the guard bridge, I glimpse the safety of a cove.
A shadow falls over the ship. I look out the open door—and the wall of water crashes into us. The cabin’s structure holds, but waves rush in and knock us down. I slide across the floor, soaked through in an instant.
The water recedes, violent streams of cold that slap and drag at me. Deven crawls to my side, his turban missing. Ashwin lies on his belly, coughing up water but otherwise unharmed. Natesa and Yatin hold each other in a puddle, while Indah and Pons brace themselves in the corner.
At our stern, a ship barrels for us. The three-mast vessel is painted an incongruously cheerful yellow. A dark cloud hangs ominously above the ship, punctuated by lightning. Thunder rumbles, an imminent warning of the vessel’s pursuit.
“Water cannons portside!” shouts Admiral Rimba.
The ship careens alongside us, its size filling the sky and its water cannons aimed to shoot. I wipe water from my eyes and peer up at the vessel’s black flag with its white symbol—a large shark with jagged teeth.
The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 3) Page 4