Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  The first part was clear enough, but what was navia, and why was Prince Malik’s arch-rival General Garesh doubling the mining of it? There were all kinds of rare minerals that were mined in the mountains of Jungali, although mostly they were the source of coal for Dharia. Metalwork came from the mountainous regions of Samir. But navia? She had never heard of it, but that didn’t mean much.

  Her education in the commerce of Jungali was apparently woeful indeed.

  She had hoped for more. There was nothing to support, or deny, the idea of the flying machine, but the prince clearly had a spy in General Garesh’s province. He was monitoring the Sik people’s response to the announcement of their marriage. He hoped to win their hearts to peace.

  What would happen when her mission was complete, and she abandoned the pretense of the marriage? Would it destroy the young prince’s attempts to build peace? She tried not to think on that while she quickly folded up the aetheroceiver and placed it exactly where it had been on the high shelf, erasing any evidence of her intrusion into the prince’s inner sanctum.

  She crept to the balcony door, then froze, hand on the doorknob, looking through the glass toward her guest room.

  Great billows of gray smoke spilled from her balcony into the mountain air.

  An orange flame licked the wall above Aniri’s balcony. Clouds of black and gray smoke churned and crawled up the estate’s granite wall.

  Her guest room was on fire.

  Even if she was willing to dare another climb across the abyss, there was no returning to her room now. Then she realized Priya and Janak were in the anteroom, with only one door: into her room. They were trapped. She spun away from the prince’s balcony and flung open the door to his office, bolting through the receiving room and spilling out into the fine-tiled hallway of the prince’s estate.

  Where were the stairs that led up to her room?

  It took a moment to gain her bearings, then she sprinted down one hall, turned a corner, and found a familiar-looking set of stairs. As she took the steps two at a time, she heard shouts coming from the floor above. She ran faster. When she arrived at the top, she choked on the smoke-fogged air. The space was crowded with people: chambermaids and guards, some dressed, some in their pajamas, some running from the fire, others toward it, many with buckets that sloshed precious fire-eating water on the floor. Aniri clung to the wall, pushing toward the fire and scanning every face through the thickening smoke, searching for Priya and Janak among them. Her eyes stung and watered, making it even more difficult to tell one face from another.

  Finally, she reached the door to her room, which was blocked with people coming and going, disappearing and reappearing out of the thick billows of smoke that roiled inside. The heat was intense, scorching her face as she blinked away tears and looked for an opening to lurch inside. Prince Malik emerged from the wall of gray and stumbled toward the door. He carried Priya in his arms, and she clung to him, coughing so hard her entire body shook. Aniri leapt back to give the prince room, and he brushed past her, hurrying Priya out into the less toxic air of the hallway. Janak followed close behind, coughing and stumbling and pushing away a guard who tried to help him. That he was well enough to be surly gave her a surge of warmth that surprised her. She wiped her face and followed them a few steps down the hall, where Prince Malik was gently setting Priya on the floor.

  Aniri’s heart squeezed as Priya coughed and struggled for breath. She reached out to touch her handmaiden’s cheek. “Priya! Are you all right?” Her voice trembled as much as Priya’s thin frame.

  Priya didn’t answer as the coughing took her again, but Janak looked up sharply when Aniri spoke. His face went through a fleeting flurry of emotion: shock that she was standing before him; a rapid scan of her person to ensure she was untouched by the fire; and slack relief that made Aniri’s throat close up. Priya bent over, still coughing, and Janak gently took hold of her shoulders, keeping her upright. He nodded to Aniri, and she pulled back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She was glad for Janak’s strength; her shaking arms wouldn’t have been much comfort to her handmaiden.

  Only then did the prince seem to recognize her. “Aniri! By the gods—” He seized her shoulders like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. His face was blackened with soot and the arm of his night tunic was pockmarked with burns. He threw his arms around her, hugging her fiercely to him. “We thought you were—” He stopped to cough, the force of it shaking her. He pulled back and scanned her pajamas, which of course were unmarred even by smoke. “Are you all right?” There was amazement in his eyes when his gaze traveled back to hers. “We thought sure you had perished in the fire. I tried to... I couldn’t find you anywhere in your room, but the heat was so intense, I thought there was no possible way that...” He was rambling. And stunned.

  “I’m all right. I was never in the room.”

  He frowned in confusion. Priya had stopped coughing, and Janak still held her, but Aniri could tell he was paying attention to her words. Prince Malik must have felt the heat of Janak’s stare because he quickly dropped his hands from Aniri and took a half step back.

  She needed a cover story, but floundered for something plausible. The smoke made breathing even more difficult than the thin air, but her cough was more to buy time than clear her lungs.

  Finally, she said, “I wasn’t able to sleep, so I went for a walk. I had no idea what had happened until I returned.” Aniri glanced at the chaos still reigning around her room. The guard always present at her door would quickly counter her story, but she didn’t see him. And her handmade rope would certainly give her away once the fire was tamed. Unless she was lucky enough to have the flames send the evidence of her espionage plummeting to the depths of the ravine.

  Janak’s face was alive with suspicion, but he held his tongue. The prince’s frown grew into a darker look. Her heart seized. Did he suspect her?

  “It is tremendously fortunate you took your stroll when you did, princess,” Prince Malik said. “I don’t know who threw this fire bomb, or how it was possible for them to get past my guard, but I assure you I will find out.”

  She hoped he wouldn’t search too hard.

  But her alarm eased, and she coughed out more smoke, for real this time. The prince’s face softened. He gently took her shoulders again, this time steering her down the hall and away from the fire.

  “Thank the gods you are safe,” he said quietly. “And your handmaiden and guard, too. That is the most important thing.” Priya and Janak followed them closely down the hall.

  Aniri gave the prince a grateful smile. He had saved them. From the looks of his tunic, he had risked his life to save her, too. Not his guard. Not his personal servants. He himself had plunged into the smoke and fire-filled room to save her.

  While she was busy spying in his office.

  A turmoil of feelings rumbled through her chest as the prince gently escorted her, Janak, and Priya to a new room. It was far from the fire, literally on the opposite side of the palace from her damaged room. The prince seemed to take comfort from having his arm around her as they walked, as if he didn’t want to release her lest an assassin leap from the drapes to plunge a dagger into her heart. She wasn’t entirely sure his fears were overstated, so she allowed it.

  Even inside the room, Prince Malik stayed by her side, sitting with her on a small couch near the window. His arm left her shoulder, but only traveled as far as the back of the couch behind her. Janak gave them room, attending to Priya by another window, thrown open so she could obtain fresh air. Aniri couldn’t see the side of the palace where the fire had raged, but they had carried the smell of smoke with them. It still clogged her lungs, and her labored breathing filled the silence around them.

  The prince seemed deep in thought, clenching and unclenching his fist on his knee. Aniri didn’t want him to ask any probing questions about her “walk,” so she didn’t disturb him.

  Finally, a small battalion of guards arrived at the room along wit
h a servant—six in total, looking like they had been roused from bed and hastily put on their starched uniforms. They were armed with pistols and daggers and ferociously serious looks. Prince Malik arose and went to speak in hushed tones with the servant at the door, who was then promptly sent away.

  The prince returned to her, his face grave. “These men will ensure your safety. Please, do not go anywhere without them, or your private guard. I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own palace, but there’s an assassin who just tried to take your life, and I’m not inclined to give him another chance.”

  Aniri nodded, not missing the way he referred to his palace as her own. A flinch of guilt clenched her stomach even tighter. The prince acted as if they were already married, giving her the benefit of full privilege in his home. And he had just tried to save her life. He kept moving her with his words and actions in a way that left her off balance and dizzied like the thin mountain air in which he lived.

  “We found a rope dangling from your balcony,” he continued, “although I can’t imagine how the assassin thought that might lead to an escape. It will be lucky for him if the bottom of the ravine finds him before I do.” The dark look was back, and it made Aniri shudder. “However, I doubt very much the assassin turned into a bird and flew away. He is likely still here in the estate, or possibly trying to flee Bajir. He may also return to make another attempt on your life. Or others may follow where he has failed. Regardless, for now, I would greatly prefer it if you stayed in your room.”

  “Of course,” Aniri said, surprised how shaky her voice sounded.

  The prince must have heard it, too, because he shifted closer, kneeling on one knee in front of her. He took her hands in his still soot-covered ones. “I am so sorry, Aniri. If I had known the risk would be this severe...” He stared at her hands, then met her eyes again. “Perhaps we should reconsider our arrangement.”

  “No!” Aniri said, too quickly. She reflexively glanced at her father’s bracelet and the prince’s soot-covered fingers gently holding her hand near it. She wasn’t entirely sure why her reaction was so strong. But she couldn’t leave, not yet. There was too much at stake in the success of her mission. And she knew the dangers when she agreed. Even more, she didn’t want to prove Janak right about her unsuitability to fulfill her duty. She calmed herself and sat straighter, patting the prince’s hand to reassure him. “I am fine, Prince Malik. And I refuse to be frightened off by a clumsy assassin who can’t even firebomb my bed when I’m actually in it.”

  The prince’s face broke into a smile that he tried to contain but failed. “As your majesty wishes.” He looked like he wanted to say something more… but thought better of it and rose up to standing instead. “Please let me know if there is anything I can get for you.”

  “Just my things—” She cut herself off, realizing that included her mother’s aetheroceiver. It should be packed away, but who knew how many of the dozens of suitcases would be damaged by the fire, their contents exposed. “That is… whatever remains from the fire. Please bring the cases here, and I will take the trouble of sorting through them to see what can be salvaged.” Her mission could be cut very short if the prince’s servants went through her things.

  “I will have everything brought immediately, along with anything else your majesty needs. Please, do not hesitate to ask. I wish to erase your memory of this night as quickly as possible.” Prince Malik templed his hands and bowed a quick arama before striding purposefully from the room. She noticed his hands were clenched again before he reached the door, full of anger and purpose.

  She was glad his dark looks were directed at the assassin, not her.

  Two days since the fire, and Aniri was indeed feeling like a prisoner in a velvet cage.

  They were confined by the prince’s fears of another attack and hadn’t left her guest room for any purpose other than using the attached privy. All their meals had been brought to their room. Twice she had to request cutlery be included—it was obviously true the Jungali ate with their fingers, just as she had always heard. The prince himself had stayed away, apparently too busy with actual royal duties to pay a visit.

  He did send a note, saying the engagement party had been moved forward due to the nature of the attempt on her life. He wanted to send a clear message that he was in no way deterred by their act of violence, even though the assassin—whoever he was—had escaped. The guard who had been posted outside her original room was a likely candidate, since he was nowhere to be found. Plus it had been discovered that his family was originally from Sik province, migrating before he was born to Bajir. The prince suspected he had been recruited by General Garesh.

  Aniri returned the prince’s note, saying he was right to proceed, even though it sent tremors through her. Moving up the party meant shortening her time until the wedding, leaving her even less room to discover the truth about the skyship. The prince had sent back details about preparations for the party. She was disappointed he had not come in person to deliver that information, even though there was no reason for him to do so.

  Priya spent her time rotating their entire wardrobe—the ones saved from the fire at least—giving each a thorough airing by draping them across the balcony. A couple of her dresses had been lost to the wind, fluttering into tiny colorful specks in the ravine. It was the only event which broke the monotony, and Aniri had nearly cried she laughed so hard.

  She was clearly not made for confinement.

  Immediately after the fire, Janak had helped her send a message to her mother, but since then, she had nothing to report. Indeed, Aniri had gained very little knowledge over what she had when she came to Jungali. That, more than anything, was eating at her every thought. What little time she had to complete her mission was ticking away.

  Aniri stilled her pacing across the length of the room, coming to rest by Janak in the sitting area, which was comprised of two chairs and a small couch. Priya was out on the balcony tending their clothes, and the prince’s guards had taken a station outside their door to give them privacy.

  “Are you certain,” she asked Janak, “you’ve never heard of this navia General Garesh is mining?”

  He didn’t look up, busy sharpening his dagger. His thin-leather raksaka boots were propped on the prince’s wooden-edged table inlaid with marble. “You’ve asked me about navia seven times now, your most royal highness. I’m sorry my education in rare earth elements is inadequate for your purposes.”

  “But it must be more than that!” Aniri resumed her pacing. Her fencing outfit was overly warm, which just added to her agitation, but it was the only thing that wasn’t either airing on the balcony or forbidden by Priya to be worn until they left the room again. “The prince’s spy wouldn’t message him about the navia unless it was important.”

  “It ranked after your kiss, so I’m not sure where that leaves us in our hypotheses.”

  Aniri scowled. Janak seemed to take endless pleasure in needling her about any part of their mission she might find unpleasant—a small consolation to him, no doubt, for the arranged marriage being only a ruse. Yet, in the wake of the fire, he had hovered over her, barely allowing her a visit to the privy without him.

  It must be the natural reaction of raksaka for their charges. Even the ones they despised. It certainly didn’t stop him from showing contempt for her at every turn.

  She stopped her pacing at his side again, drawing his attention up with her urgent stare. “Both the navia and the kiss must be important in some way to the prince’s plans for peace,” she insisted.

  “Or his plans for war.”

  Aniri examined Janak’s face for signs of humanity. Or at least a limit to his cynicism. “Do you truly believe he would risk his life to save me from a fire if all he intends is war with Dharia? He could have accomplished that by letting the fire do its work.”

  “That would only bring the war to him sooner, and not on his terms,” Janak said coolly. “If he has this flying machine, he will want to surprise
us with it.”

  “It’s not much of a surprise if we’re already looking for it.”

  “Looking for what, precisely?” Janak asked, rising and planting his knife in the fine wood of the table with a swift flick of his wrist. “We don’t know its size or capabilities or threat it might pose. All we know is the thing may fly like a bird. Or perhaps like a stone. Or that it is no threat at all, just barbarians with fanciful notions from spending too much time in this thin air.” He waved his weathered hand around for emphasis.

  Aniri clenched her fists. She wasn’t quite sure why Janak’s speech angered her. He hadn’t seen the impassioned look on Prince Malik’s face when he spoke of peace. Or of his brother’s death. The prince would have sent her home rather than risk her life further with an assassin on the loose. It simply didn’t reconcile with also secretly planning to launch a surprise attack on her nation.

  Maybe her judgment was being clouded.

  Maybe she had simply been cooped in this room too long.

  Aniri flung her hands open with a small sound of frustration. “Where are my swords?” she demanded of Janak.

  “My lady?” he asked, leaning back, thrown by the change in topic.

  “The small trunk that carries my weapons. Where is it?”

  His disgust came swerving back. “We’re confined to this room, in case your most royal eminence hasn’t noticed.” Janak had taken to sleeping on the couch, and Priya made a small bed on the floor near Aniri’s. He gestured to the four-poster bed where Aniri slept. “Are you planning to fence the bed for practice? Because your royalness would not fare well in a sparring match with me, I assure you.” The scowl Janak always wore grew into a darker look.

  Aniri didn’t trust herself not to stab him either.

  “I need a break from this room!” She threw her hands up, as if imploring Devkasera herself to slash her sword through the roof of the palace and free her. And now that the words were spoken aloud, Aniri was even more certain she must do something or go mad.