by Jade Mere
“It’s sad that the borders were closed,” Rye said. “Dyraien says it’s for the best, but I think it will only cause more tension between the countries.”
Tahki took a breath. Rye didn’t know where he was from, or he would have said something.
They sat down next to each other on a stone wall. “It was well-built. I can tell by the condition of the roof,” Tahki said.
Rye didn’t look at him. “Do you know why I brought you here?”
“Since you don’t have a pistol, I assume my ‘shoot me’ guess was wrong.”
Rye didn’t roll his eyes, but his mouth twitched upward in a slightly exasperated way. “I wanted to show you this place because I know how overwhelming the castle can be. When I first came here, I felt like the castle was watching me. But that’s just the isolation playing games with you.” He glanced at Tahki. “The first day I started renovations on the castle, I knocked out the wrong wall. One of the inner supports collapsed. I’d never made a mistake like that before in my life. Lucky for me, Dyraien found it amusing.” Tahki sat still, shocked at Rye’s sudden openness. “The castle is not a home.”
“And this place is?” Tahki said.
“No, but it feels real here. A reminder that there’s a world out there. Coming here helps me clear my head.”
“So you brought me here because you want me to clear my head?”
Rye nodded. “You’ve shut yourself in your room for the last week. That kind of seclusion fogs your judgment.” They sat so close their hands almost touched.
“Why did you lie to Dyraien?” Tahki said. “I went against your word. I thought you’d love the opportunity to humiliate me.”
Rye signed. “Your designs are good, Tahki.”
“Then why did you say they weren’t?”
Rye slouched a little. “You have talent. Your designs, I can’t really put a name to what they are. At first, I thought they were ridiculous, but after seeing your design today, I realize you might be the only person who can give Dyraien what he wants.”
“But you rejected that design.”
“Of course. It looked too influenced by something already done. But it had potential. A kind of intuitiveness this project needs.” Rye ran a hand through his hair. When Tahki messed up his hair, it looked like a rat’s nest, but Rye managed to make his look intentionally good-messy. “I want you to come here, to this temple. I want you to walk here or take a gingoat the next time you think up a design. Get away from the castle. Get it out of your head. Sit here, think about the design.”
Tahki massaged his wrist. “I’m sorry Dyraien blamed you for my mistake.”
“He won’t stay mad long.”
“He seems to really trust you,” Tahki said.
Rye shrugged. “Dyraien saved me from a bad situation. I came to live with him when I was fourteen, just after the queen fell ill. He gave me a home, an education.”
Tahki didn’t know what to say. He knew Rye came from the lower cities but couldn’t imagine a prince inviting someone from the slums to live with him. Maybe their relationship was romantic. But he’d never seen them kiss or go to bed together.
“We lived in the capital a few years after the sickness took hold. The queen was still able to make appearances for a time. She acted normal enough, only she’d say odd things that just didn’t make sense. I mean, they sort of made sense, it was just an odd way to say something, like she saw the world different. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”
Tahki did know and worried Sornjia might suffer from a similar illness. But Sornjia had spoken that way all his life.
“Her health continued to deteriorate slowly, and then rapidly, until she couldn’t remember who she was. We moved to this castle for privacy, traveling back and forth as needed. A few years after living here, the queen forgot her own son, and it was then Dyraien dredged up this plan to turn the castle into a weapon. Dyraien hired a weapons expert before Gale, but he wasn’t right for the job. We tried for years, different plans, different designs. But nothing ever satisfied Dyraien.”
Tahki inched closer. “But the castle seems like so much effort for not a lot of gain.”
Rye shrugged a stiff shoulder. “Dyraien is the kind of person who needs to be needed. Who needs people to owe him things. I think this castle will prove him to be a capable leader, show he can defend his country while advancing it technologically.”
Tahki bit his lip. Too many questions dodged in and out of his mind. “You said he saved you from a bad situation. What kind of bad situation?”
“You don’t have many boundaries when it comes to asking personal questions, do you?”
“Sorry.” Tahki found a stick and drew circles in the dirt.
“Everyone has something about them they’d prefer to keep private. I bet even you have some secrets you don’t want me to know about.”
Tahki glanced at Rye, and for the briefest moment he considered telling him who he was and where he was from. But it didn’t seem worth the risk. Rye had finally opened up a little. Confessing might ruin the moment.
“Rye, do you know what’s behind the black gates?”
“The black gates?”
“I was wandering around the castle and found two large gates, but they were locked.”
Rye frowned. “You mean the gates in the basement?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been down there?”
“Once, when the river flooded. But I never saw what’s behind them.” Rye thought a moment. “Dyraien said it was something his ancestors built and that I was to leave it alone in my renovations. I think he used to take his mother there sometimes. He said she liked it down there.”
Tahki threw the stick. “It still seems strange he’d keep the queen a secret.”
“Dyraien loves his people,” Rye said. “He wants them to feel safe and protected, and if they saw their ruler in such a state, they might panic. I think Dyraien just wants to prove to them he has both the intelligence and means to protect them.”
Rye sounded so certain, but Tahki was still missing some vital piece of information about the castle. Whatever it was, he felt sure Rye didn’t know. Bringing Tahki here, motivating him and opening up, all felt so genuine. So raw. Like nothing anyone had ever done for him. No one had ever been on his side, had ever wanted him to succeed. Not since his mother died.
He remembered how he used to sit on her lap when he was a child and watch her draw. How pleased she was when he’d sketch next to her. How patient she was when he’d try to draw a cube, but it didn’t come out perfect, and she’d tell him, “Keep practicing. There is no perfection in art, just improvement.”
“I’ll find a solution,” Tahki said. “Just give me a little more time.”
Rye stood. “I’m happy to hear that. Dyraien will be too.”
Chapter 8
“I CAN’T remember the last time you took an interest in someone,” Sornjia said. “I can’t remember you ever taking an interest in someone. For a time I thought you were like the sand worms. The ones who don’t mate, they just cut off their own tails to make offspring.”
Tahki peeled an orange for his breakfast over Gale’s sink. “I don’t have an interest in Rye. I just think he’s interesting.”
Sornjia washed a dish beside him. “You’ve been here an hour, and he’s all you’ve talked about.”
“I respect him is all.”
“Your ears are turning red.”
Tahki walked to the old gray couch across from the kitchen table and sucked on a tangy slice. He wiggled and sunk down into the lumpy cushions. The couch smelled like smoke and fish. Shelves to his left displayed an impressive collection of pistols. “So what do you and Gale do all day?”
“You’re changing the subject.” Sornjia smiled and joined him. “I help her with chores, and she brought me a lot of books to read. She tried to teach me how to shoot yesterday, but guns aren’t for me. Too loud. They rattle my
brain, and I don’t think I’d ever have any use for one.”
“Are you speaking normal to her like I told you?”
“Normal as the trees speak to the stars.”
Tahki paused on an orange slice and glared at him.
“Yes, Tahki. I try to keep my words like yours. Contained.”
“Good,” Tahki said. “She’s been very patient with us.”
“I know.”
Tahki had been frustrated that the paper still hadn’t arrived, but a small—oh so small—part of him was happy to have his brother there. Tahki had given up everything he’d known, the good and the bad. His home, the heat, his lifestyle, servants, good food, his comfortable silk sheets. It had been exciting at first. But after a few days, Tahki had started to crave the routine he’d become accustomed to for the last eighteen years. Having Sornjia there was like a buffer, though he’d never admit it out loud.
“Sornjia,” Tahki said. “Why did you say there was something wrong with the castle?”
Sornjia sat back. He picked at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Do you remember that year we were obsessed with the book series Alabaraiin and the Magic Sandbull, and we spent all summer reenacting his adventures?”
“I remember stealing all the curtains and building a giant fort in the dining room.” The servants had complained, but their father just laughed and let them keep it up.
Sornjia nodded. “Well, remember what happened in the Gojuri tree?”
Tahki frowned. He remembered climbing the tree, thinking he could swing from branch to branch. Only the trees in the palace were thin and brittle. Most of the trees in Dhaulen’aii were. He’d climbed high, and a branch gave way. Sornjia had been standing beneath him and broke his fall. He’d ended up with a twisted ankle, Sornjia a broken arm. If his brother hadn’t been there, in that exact place at that exact moment, Tahki’s head would have split open.
“I know you don’t like the way I speak,” Sornjia said. “But sometimes I get these feelings, and I don’t think words are meant to describe them. Sometimes… sometimes it’s like I’m standing on the face of the sun looking down at everyone, and I can see the whole world all at once, so it’s easy to understand what’s about to happen.”
“And you think something bad’s going to happen at the castle?” Tahki said.
Sornjia shook his head. “No. I think something bad has already happened.”
Tahki sighed. “Are you ever going to be normal?”
Sornjia shrugged. “Will the moon ever give light to the sun?”
Tahki pushed off the couch. “I need to borrow some socks. After all the walking yesterday, I wore a hole in mine.” He entered a small room to the right of the kitchen as Sornjia returned to the dishes. The space was only large enough for a small bed and a dresser, but Sornjia hadn’t complained.
As he rooted through the drawers, he heard the front door open and close with a bang. Gale must have returned early from Edgewater. After collecting a pair of white wool socks, Tahki went to greet her. He reached the doorway and stopped dead.
There, in the center of Gale’s home, Dyraien stood, his eyes locked on Sornjia.
Every nerve in Tahki’s body flared up. The hair follicles on his arms rose, and his heart pumped waves of anxiety through him.
He darted back inside the room, praying he hadn’t been seen, and peeked around the edge.
Sornjia turned, a dish in one hand, rag in the other, and stared back at the prince.
“Tahki,” Dyraien said. His voice sounded cautious, concerned. “Why, might I ask, are you down here cleaning Gale’s dishes while she’s away?”
Sornjia studied him. Dyraien wore fine white clothing, his hair and skin washed clean. He stood with such elegant posture, Sornjia had to know who he was.
“Dyraien,” Sornjia said slowly, as though testing the water before jumping in. “Prince Dyraien.”
“I thought we were beyond formalities.”
Sornjia set the plate in the sink. “I had to get away from the castle a moment. Helping the elderly clears my mind.”
Dyraien squinted at him. They looked identical. Even their father had trouble telling them apart by appearance only. But Dyraien was so observant. A few days ago, he’d asked why Tahki had changed the thickness of graphite in his pencil, when even Tahki hadn’t noticed he’d accidentally switched to a lighter tone. The prince’s perceptiveness had impressed him then. Now it terrified him.
Tahki held his breath.
“I see,” Dyraien said at last. He seemed to relax a little. “I’m happy I ran into you here. I’d like a word, if you have a moment between scrubbing fish guts off the counter.”
Sornjia stood still. “We could talk back at the castle.” Tahki could hear the strain in his voice, how he tried hard to speak the way Tahki spoke.
Dyraien fluttered his hand dismissively. “Here is fine.” He took a step closer. “I owe you an apology. My behavior the other day was uncalled for.”
Tahki hadn’t told Sornjia about his design error.
Sornjia didn’t break eye contact with Dyraien. “Everyone has moments when they feel mice skittering across their mind. Sometimes it’s like they chew through the wrinkles of your brain and make you say and do things you don’t mean to.”
Dyraien stared. His lips parted slightly, brow furrowed.
Tahki was doomed.
“Well,” Dyraien said. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
Sornjia smiled. “No storm can rage on forever.”
Dyraien studied Sornjia more intently than Tahki would have liked. “Are you quite all right? You’re acting… strange. And did you change your clothing from this morning?”
“I fell in the mud and had to change.” Sornjia rubbed his left wrist the way Tahki did. “I guess the stress has made my mind foggy.”
Dyraien nodded. “Of course.” He reached out and rested his hand on Sornjia’s shoulder. “And I’m partly to blame for that, I know. How frightened you must have been by my little outburst. Try to understand, Mother has been particularly bad as of late. Her tantrums are growing more violent. It hurts my heart to see her in such a state.”
“Mothers are delicate things. As children it’s hard to understand, but they break just like the rest of us.”
“Yes. They do.” Dyraien reached up and traced his thumb across Sornjia’s cheek. It was the kind of flirtatious gesture he’d performed a dozen times, when he’d bring Tahki gifts or visit him throughout the day. A small hug. A kind caress. A crooked smile. Tahki had never minded. He’d enjoyed the attention, the kind of affection that didn’t require anything in return, just small moments of feeling important.
“What are you doing?” Sornjia said.
“What do you mean?”
Tahki silently begged Sornjia to just leave. Walk out of the house, say he had to get back to work.
“You’re petting me like I’m a dog,” Sornjia said.
Dyraien’s smile faltered. “I’m only being friendly.” He removed his hand and ran it through his hair, pink coloring his cheeks. It was the first time Tahki had seen Dyraien blush.
“You should be careful, being friendly like that,” Sornjia said. “Some people might take it the wrong way.”
“What if I intended it to be taken the wrong way?” Dyraien said. Some certainty seeped back into his voice.
Sornjia gave him a patient smile. “If the moon only rose on intentions, the tides would never flow.”
Again, Dyraien could only stare, probably caught between confusion and slight disbelief. It had taken years for Tahki to decipher Sornjia, and even now he had difficulty. Maybe, if they got out of this situation without being discovered, he could convince Dyraien he’d been drunk, or accidentally eaten a mushroom he’d found under a rock, or been dream walking. He’d read some people could carry on entire conversations in their sleep.
Thankfully, Dyraien pulled out a piece of paper from his coat pocket and said, “You seem busy, so I won’t keep you. I came here t
o drop off order details. I need some very specific minerals ordered.”
“And you need me to order them?”
Dyraien laughed a little. “No, no. Better leave this task to someone a little more experienced.”
Tahki frowned. How would Dyraien know if he was experienced or not? Had his encounter the day before shown that he couldn’t be trusted with a simple task?
Sornjia nodded, and Tahki felt annoyed. He wished Sornjia would have told Dyraien he was capable, or that he had lots of experience filling orders. How difficult could it be to drop off a piece of paper?
“I’m leaving these for Gale,” Dyraien said. “Our supplier, Zinc, can be a little rough around the edges. He runs a gambling house in Edgewater, and not in the best part of town. I only want Gale doing business dealings with him.”
Sornjia shivered, no doubt having one of his bad feelings. Luckily, he said in a straightforward tone, “Will Gale be safe?”
Dyraien grinned. “Your compassion is noble, but don’t look so grim. Though we must go through less-than-reputable channels to attain some of our supplies in a timely manner, Gale has worked with far more unstable people. She can handle herself quite well.”
Dyraien walked to the table and placed the order details beside a wooden fruit bowl. Then he stuck his hand back in his pocket and retrieved a handful of blue rectangular paper. It took Tahki a moment to realize they were Vatolok notes. The country had recently integrated paper money into their markets to save their copper, silver, and gold supplies.
Dyraien faced Sornjia. “I trust I’ll see you back at the castle once you’ve cleared your mind.”
Sornjia gave him a startlingly kind smile. “You can trust me as a fish trusts a stream to carry it to sea.”
A final look of doubt crossed Dyraien’s face, but he said nothing and left Gale’s home without a glance back.
Tahki lunged out of the room. “Are you crazy? Why, why couldn’t you have just insisted you talk back at the castle? He probably think’s I’ve lost my mind.”
Sornjia sat at the table. “There’s something not right about him.”