by Mike Grinti
“Best for our family or just for you?” Jala asked.
“No, not for me,” he said, and his face softened. “For you. For your children. I’d hoped seeing your friend again would help you make the right decision, but I see it’s only confused you.”
“You only brought her to manipulate me into doing what you want?” Jala dug her nails into her palms to keep from shouting at him. “You’re acting like Lord Inas, all schemes and nothing else. When was the last time we talked of anything but what I’m to do next to help our family? Would you have visited just to see me, or am I out of your thoughts until you want to use me in some new plot?” His moment of silence was answer enough. “No . . . you wouldn’t have.” She turned her back on him and ran for the manor.
He called something after her, but his words were nothing but wind howling over the water. By the time she reached the manor, she was breathing heavily, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t run, not wanting to draw attention to herself and be forced to speak to anyone, but she walked as quickly as she could.
She headed toward her room and to Marjani, but halfway there she changed her mind and went to find Azi instead. He was eating dinner alone in his room.
“Jala? I thought you’d be eating dinner with your friend and Lord Mosi tonight. But of course you can stay if you want,” he added quickly. “I admit I was a little jealous that your family would be stealing you away from me, even if it’s only for a few days.”
“No, that’s all right,” Jala said. “I don’t think I can eat just yet.”
Azi put down his knife. “What’s wrong?”
Jala sank into a chair and took several deep breaths to calm herself. “Nothing. I’m just tired. There’s so much going on.” She looked away. Her father would want her to keep Azi quiet until it was too late to change anything, not ask Azi’s advice on how to prevent it. But exposing her father’s plans still felt like a betrayal. Did I really mean it when I said Azi and I would make things right? I can’t keep quiet, not even to protect my own father.
“No, there is something wrong. It’s my father,” she said. “I spoke with him, and he plans to take the Fifth Isle for the Bardo. With most of the fleet already there, and more arriving, he doesn’t think there’s anything the Gana—or you—can do to stop him.”
Azi looked down at his plate. “I can’t say I’m very surprised. When I saw his ships there, full of food and nets and willing hands, I wondered. Your father’s never been known for his generosity.”
“You knew? Then why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know. I hoped for the best, hoped that maybe I’d just been listening to my uncle too much. Anyway, if I told you, would you have believed me?”
Jala sighed. “I don’t know. Probably not. I think I had to realize it for myself, and I almost wish I still didn’t know any of this. But you could have tried to stop him, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know that I want to stop him,” Azi said. “Not while he’s helping the Fifth Isle as much as he is. Maybe he really can convince Lord Orad to marry into the Bardo. If he does, I won’t try to stop him.”
“But—”
“I know what it might mean for my family. But it will take years, and Lord Mosi won’t always be head of the Bardo. By then you’ll be a great queen, and we’ll figure it out together.”
He won’t always be head of the Bardo. . . . The words echoed in Jala’s mind. She couldn’t imagine home without her father storming around. But it wasn’t really home anymore, and he’d made it clear she was more useful to him here. She pulled her chair closer to Azi. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I hate this. I hate it.”
“We’ll think of something,” Azi said. Tentatively, he reached out and put an arm around her, and the gesture made Jala feel a little better. She wasn’t alone, even if neither of them had any idea what they were doing. After a moment, Jala closed her eyes and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“We’ll have to think about it soon,” Azi said. “But we don’t have to think about it now.” Even more tentatively, he turned her face toward him and kissed her.
Jala kissed him back. It was a long, slow kiss, and it left her breathless. “You’re just trying to distract me,” she teased, her voice quavering.
Azi grinned. It made his mouth look even more kissable. “Maybe. Is it working?”
“A little bit,” Jala admitted. For a minute or two she forgot everything except the feeling of his skin and the beating of her heart and his lips on hers. But it ended too soon, and the world rushed back in along with her breath.
She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder again. “It’s no use. Tell me a story instead. A funny one that doesn’t involve kings and queens and nobles.”
Azi wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “I think I can manage that. My time as a sailor turns out to be useful after all, it seems.”
Despite Azi’s attempts to distract her, Jala couldn’t stop thinking about her father’s plans. She took her seat beside Azi as people filed into the meeting hall. Her father smiled at her as he strode confidently to his chair. Clearly he wasn’t concerned about the way things would play out today.
Jala fidgeted with her rings, the metal bands clinking against each other softly. Azi glanced at her and put his hand over hers. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. She wasn’t facing this alone. Whether he agreed with her or not, her father would have to listen to her now, in front of everyone. Or he’d have to listen to Azi, if not to her.
Azi stood, and the room fell silent.
“The Gana have no ships. Their island is burned. If not for the Bardo, their people would be starving. We’re here to decide who will use their raiding routes until they have new ships.”
Azi paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. Jala’s gaze wandered over to the Kayet guards standing at attention in the each corner of the room. Was Azi expecting trouble?
Lord Orad spoke up during the pause. “Why should we lose our routes? The Nongo caused this invasion. They are responsible for the death of my family. Let them give us ships and sailors to rebuild.”
The Nongo ambassador sneered. “Maybe if Gana soldiers weren’t so drunk they couldn’t lift their swords, your family would still be alive, Lord Orad. We faced these invaders too. Nothing but old men whose bones rattled in their armor.”
Azi raised his hands, palms up. “Peace, my lords. We don’t blame the Nongo. But Lord Orad has a point. If we all lend the Gana ships and sailors to sail them, they can rebuild, and every family can share the burden.”
“Nongo ships belong to the Nongo. They will burn before any strangers touch them.”
The Rafa ambassador shook his head. “Your plan is a good one, my king, wise and generous. Sadly, the Rafa have no ships to spare, as was shown quite clearly at the Sectioning.”
Azi turned to Jala’s father. “Lord Mosi, you’ve shown your generosity and were the first to bring food and supplies to the Gana. Do you also disapprove of this plan?”
Jala kicked Azi’s ankle under the table. He ignored it and waited for Lord Mosi’s reply.
Jala’s father stood slowly. “It doesn’t seem that the Gana’s plan will work, my king, unless you plan to take grayships for them by force. But there’s a simpler solution. As you say, the Bardo have already helped the Gana far beyond any expectations. Let Lord Orad marry one of my nieces and take the name of Bardo. We will see to it that the Fifth Isle rises from the ashes stronger than ever before.”
Orad stared at Jala’s father, his face tense. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated a moment.
“My lord,” Jala’s father said, “you have no choice. You know that.”
“I have the choice of honoring my people’s wishes,” Lord Orad said. “We’re grateful for your help, but we weren’t told it came with such heavy strings attached. There may be no choice, but I’m not ready to give up everything yet.”
“Not everythi
ng,” Lord Mosi said. “Think of it as gaining a new family, not losing an old one. Or do you think your people will thank you for your blind stubbornness?”
The Rafa ambassador laughed. “You’d have us believe you do this for their good, Mosi? You care as much for them as a fish for fire. The Rafa were the first to feel the greedy hands of the Bardo around our necks. Now the Gana feel them too. Of course Lord Orad has no choice, when Mosi has no intention of giving up the Fifth Isle now that his men have overrun it. And who will stop him? Not our king. Not while this Bardo queen, chosen against the wishes of wise Lord Inas, rules alongside him. Rules, I say, but we see who rules her.”
“No,” Jala said. “If Lord Orad won’t take the Bardo name, then the Bardo will leave the island. Though I hope we can stay long enough to help those in need.”
Jala’s father froze, but he managed to keep the smile on his face and in his voice, though it didn’t find its way to his eyes. “Of course my daughter speaks for the Bardo. But I believe Lord Orad will see the wisdom in our plan.”
Out of the corner of one eye, Jala saw Lord Inas’s mouth twitch into a smirk. She tried to ignore it. “We’re not going to bully Lord Orad into a hasty decision. If there’s wisdom to be found, it will be there next week or next month as well.”
The Nongo ambassador laughed. “Maybe Lord Mosi’s little bird isn’t as well-trained as he might have thought. Looks like she’s already forgotten all the pretty words you taught her, my lord.”
“You’re making a fool of yourself,” her father hissed. This time even the Rafa ambassador grinned. Azi glanced from her to her father and opened his mouth to speak. But he didn’t seem to know what to say or how to wrest back some semblance of control over this mess.
Her father’s expression was determined, and Jala knew he was going to make things worse any moment. She stood quickly. “Lord Mosi, you will not address your queen this way,” she said, hiding behind the formal tone. “I will speak for the Bardo at this gathering. If you cannot keep silent, you may leave.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. He had to see now that she wouldn’t let him do this. Not without causing a scene and making himself look weak.
Her father laughed in surprise, a short, sharp sound. “You think to tell me how I should speak to my own daughter? I taught you better, didn’t I? Well, I’ll teach you now.”
Jala’s hands shook. She balled them into fists, so tightly her rings cut into her skin. He didn’t care at all, did he? They already thought he was controlling her, which made everything that much harder for her, but now he was trying to prove it. “You may leave,” she said again. “Or stay, I don’t care. But if you stay, you’ll hear what I have to say whether you want to or not.”
Beside her, Azi found his voice and added it to hers. “Sit, everyone. We’re here to talk, not war with each other.”
Jala turned to the Rafa and Nongo ambassadors. “If I guarantee that the Bardo will offer ships to the Gana without threat, will you do the same? We’re the Five-and-One. We should be uniting against our common enemy, not tearing each other apart.”
The Rafa ambassador shook his head. “How can you guarantee us anything with Lord Mosi leading the Bardo, my queen? We’ve seen how little he respects your position. Once your back is turned, the Fifth Isle is as good as his.”
“If your daughter was sitting up there now, you’d do the same,” Jala’s father said. “You’re just angry because I got there first.”
Jala willed him to look at her, to see what he was doing, but her father’s gaze was locked on the Rafa lord’s face. She knew her father had never cared what she thought of the king he wanted her to marry. He didn’t care about Azi at all, but she’d thought he cared about her. She was starting to see her father through the eyes of Azi, of Lord Inas, of even the Rafa lord. Greedy, grasping Lord Mosi. Once he’d gained control of the Fifth Isle, did anyone really think he’d be content to stop there? She was a stepping stone, one that could be set aside when it was of no more use.
The islands had to be united, but not under his reign. She looked at Lord Orad. The man’s whole body was tense as he waited to hear the fate of his family. The Nongo lord was looking back and forth between her father and Azi. Azi’s eyes met hers, questioning. What could they do? The Rafa lord was right. As soon as her father was out of sight, he’d take the Fifth Isle, regardless of the decision made today. He’d told her as much the day before. He thought he was invincible now, that because she was queen, he was nearly a king himself. And he wasn’t going to back down.
The Rafa lord’s words echoed in her mind. How can you guarantee us anything with Lord Mosi leading the Bardo? She couldn’t. And so there was only one thing left to do, only one route her father had left open to her. Her father and the ambassadors were still arguing. It was as though they’d forgotten she and Azi were there.
Jala reached for Azi’s hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and reassuring. He still trusted her, and he needed her help.
She leaned close to him and pitched her voice low, for his ears alone. “The Rafa are right. As long as my father leads my family, we can’t have peace. But that’s one thing I can change.”
Azi’s grip on her hand tightened. “Jala, no. Your father is still alive. You can’t know what it’s like to lose your father, not yet. You know I’d never ask you to do that.”
“I know.” That’s exactly what her father had counted on. “But I have to.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. Her mouth was dry. One more chance. She could give him that much.
She slammed her fist down on the table. The sound wasn’t as loud as she’d hoped, but it got their attention for long enough. “Lord Mosi,” she said. “Will you agree to leave the Fifth Isle in peace?”
He pointed a finger at the Rafa ambassador. “So that he can take it as soon as I’m gone?” He swept his hand around, taking in the room. “Any one of them would take the island, especially your king. But I’m the one who took it, and I saved his life and many others in the process.” He saw Jala flinch at that reminder of what had happened on the Fifth Isle, and a smile tugged at his lips. He thought he’d won. He looked past her at Azi. “Will you go to war with the Bardo, my king, and undo all the good we, together, have done? And will the rest of you go against your king?”
“Lord Mosi,” Jala said. He hardly looked at her. Maybe he thought she wasn’t important anymore. Maybe he was too fixated on his own victory, premature though it was.
It’s for the best, she told herself. It has to be done. All the things people say when they’re about to do something they know they’ll regret, something that will haunt them for years to come. Even if the words were true. Especially if the words were true.
“Lord Mosi, I remove you as head of the Bardo family.”
Now he did look at her, and for just a moment there was a look of surprise and hurt there that made her want to cry. All of the talking and whispering and shuffling in the room had suddenly stopped. There was only silence.
“I take away your name. You can have no family. You can captain no ships. Your wife will be a widow, and your children fatherless. From this day, until the day the ocean dries.”
His face twisted, the pain sinking deep beneath the surface and leaving only rage. “Who do you think you are?” he hissed at her. “I raised you. I taught you. I made you into a queen, and this is how you thank me?”
There was no going back now, she knew that. She had to finish what she’d started. She squeezed Azi’s hand so tightly she was afraid she’d break his fingers. She fought back her tears. There’d be time for tears later, when the other families couldn’t see. “Guards,” Jala called. “Take Mosi No-Name. Put him in a cellar. Bring him something to sleep on.”
Her father stared at her, then at Azi and their linked hands. He exploded. “You. You did this. You turned my own daughter against me. But it won’t mean a damn.” He jerked forward toward Azi, but the guards were on him now. One grabbed his shoulder, and
he kicked out at the man’s kneecap. There was a sickening pop and a scream as the man toppled over. But then a guard punched her father in the kidneys, and as he turned, another guard tripped him and struck him in the face. Her father kicked out again, but his foot caught the guard in the gut instead of the throat. They held him down while another guard kicked him.
“Stop it,” Jala said. And to her surprise they stopped. They stopped and looked at her. “Don’t hurt him any more than you have to. Even a No-Name deserves that much.”
Her father struggled limply as they raised him up by his arms. But though his face was bloody and swelling, his voice was strong enough to carry in the silence. “Orad! Lord Orad you call yourself, but you can’t hide your family’s disgrace. You let them take your grayships, Lord Orad. You didn’t burn them when you should have.” He was looking at Jala now. “Lord Orad watched his ships sail away while his villages, his people, burned. Will your boy king help the Gana now? Will his precious Rafa marry them, do you think?”
Everyone stared at her father, then at Orad.
“Is this true?” Azi said, his voice barely audible.
“He lies. All of our ships burned,” Orad said. But his voice sounded dull and lifeless. He was lying and everyone there saw it.
The Nongo ambassador spoke first. “They won’t make it to the mainland, not during the storm season. And even if they did, they have no navigators to feel which way the ships want to go.”
“They might learn,” Azi said. “Or their sorcery might help them. And once they learn how to navigate the Great Ocean, they can do so any time they wish and lead a thousand ships to our beaches.”
The ambassadors said nothing as they took in his words.
While Azi spoke, Jala’s father was dragged out of the room. She wanted to go to him. She wanted to run and hide and never see him again, to never be seen again. To disappear somewhere where no one knew what she had done . . . not the other families, not Azi, not even herself.