Second Daughter (The Royals of Dharia, Book Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  “Perhaps. But you are right, first things first.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips and a quiver shot through her again, surging back the nervous feeling from before.

  Ash’s gaze traveled back to her eyes, and he gave her a shy smile. “I have something for you. A gift.”

  “A gift?” Her throat tightened as she thought of Priya and Karan and their touching betrothal. “Are we supposed to exchange gifts? Because I don’t have—”

  “Aniri,” he cut her off. “It’s all right. There is a very old tradition where the bride and groom exchange gifts, but this isn’t that. I mean, it doesn’t have to be that. This is just something I wanted to give you. I was going to present it after the rehearsal, but now that you’re here…”

  He took her hand and led her to the table. There was a wide assortment of blades: a scimitar that looked very old, with a plain and ancient iron grip; a saber with a heavily jeweled and odd-looking handle; and half-dozen regular foils, some with dazzling filigree grips and others with functional steel ones. He picked up the jeweled saber and held it out to her on open palms.

  She took it and stepped back, gripping the ornate handle, afraid it might be awkward or uncomfortable, but the stones were so perfectly aligned and smoothed that it felt like the finest polished brass in her hand. The balance was perfect, although the blade was slightly heavier than she was used to. That would only give it more power once she became accustomed to it.

  She twirled it, tipped it forward, and thrust at an imaginary foe to the prince’s left. When she stepped back from the lunge, she said, “It’s a beautiful weapon, Ash. Thank you.”

  “Do you truly like it?” He watched her carefully as she swung the blade again.

  “Of course. It’s perfectly balanced and easy to grip.”

  He stepped closer, and she pointed the saber to the floor, safely away from him.

  “I had it made special for you.”

  She held up the jeweled handle. “It has a rather unusual grip for a saber.”

  He gently wrapped his hand around hers, where she held the grip, then looked in her eyes. “That’s because it’s actually a dagger handle.”

  She frowned. “A dagger?”

  He edged closer, brushing her hair back and slipping his fingers through it. “It was Tosh’s.”

  Aniri drew in a breath and frowned at the handle still clasped in their two hands. “The one you found him with?” Ash’s brother had been set upon by Sik marauders. Ash had kept Tosh’s blade, believing he had used it to defend himself. Aniri suspected General Garesh had been the one to push Tosh out of the window he supposedly fell from, but now hardly seemed the time to mention it. “I can’t take your brother’s knife.”

  She shook her head, but he stilled it with a soft caress of her cheek. “When I realized you had thrown your father’s saber into the burning glass, I knew you had destroyed something much more than the two weapons. Your father’s blade was a promise for the future—a promise that was broken even before you tossed it into that fire. Tosh’s blade was a promise, too, one I made after my brother’s death: that I wouldn’t use it to seek vengeance in his name, but would create peace instead. You, my love,” he said, stroking her cheek again, “helped me keep that promise. I had it made into a saber as a new promise to you: that the future we forge together will be everything you want. Everything you deserve. I want to give you that future, Aniri, if you’ll let me.”

  Words fled her, and tears blurred her eyes. With her free hand, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. Every reason she ever had for loving him came rushing back to her, and she poured every single one into her kiss. She held nothing back, and he pulled her close in return. For a long time, they were lost in kisses and touches. When they finally broke their fevered holding and nuzzling, the smile on Ash’s face settled her heart in a way she had been grasping for but couldn’t find.

  She could make many worse mistakes in her life than marrying this noble prince. And for a brief, shining moment, she had no doubt that, together, they could find a way to keep peace in all three Queendoms.

  When Aniri returned to her room, Priya’s scowls were even darker. Apparently the wedding dress—which had been hastily made over the last day—wasn’t meeting her exacting specifications.

  “We’ll have another fitting tonight,” Priya said as she helped Aniri into her rehearsal gown. It was a much simpler but more colorful affair, and felt truly Jungali with its breathtaking contrast of colors: a bright purple corset hooked over sweeping folds of orange embroidered fabric. Priya’s rehearsal attire was similarly vivid with a deep rose corset and a winter-blue dress.

  Priya hastily laid an orange jewel in Aniri’s hair, then whisked off to find their slippers. Aniri righted the teardrop that hung on her forehead and called across the room, “I’m sure they will wait for us, Priya.”

  That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Priya returned with the slippers and an even deeper scowl. She quickly pulled hairpins from somewhere deep in her corset and threatened Aniri with them. “You will not be late for your own wedding. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  Aniri sighed as Priya tugged her hairpiece loose and repinned it. “It’s only the rehearsal, Priya.”

  “And our only chance to practice the Jungali customs before tomorrow.”

  “Are they really so elaborate?”

  “No, but they must be perfect.”

  Aniri didn’t wish to quarrel, still floating on the warmth of the prince’s kisses, so she kept quiet until Priya had wrestled her hair into submission and declared her fit for royal company.

  “Has the Queen arrived?” Aniri asked as they left her room and strolled toward the stairs to the rehearsal room below.

  “I’ve heard that the Queen of Dharia has already arrived at the rehearsal,” she said with a haughty lift of her chin. “The Queen of Jungali has yet to make her appearance.”

  Aniri laughed. “I’m not Queen yet, Priya.” Although a trace of her former nervousness chased away the laugh. Being Queen would require so much more than holding Ash in her arms until they could no longer breathe properly. It would require responsibility and dignity. And forging the future her handsome prince had promised they would have together.

  That thought sobered her rather completely.

  As they lightly pattered down the white-granite stairs, Aniri asked, “Have you heard word from Karan? Do you expect him to return in time for the wedding?” She wished him there, for her sake and Priya’s, but even more she and Ash both wanted to question him about Samirian skyships.

  “Oh,” Priya exclaimed as they reached the foot of the stairs. “In all the rush, I forgot to tell you, my lady. Karan has already returned, and his skyship is a right beauty now.” Her imitation of Karan’s deep, rumbling voice made Aniri’s laugh bubble up again.

  Giggling and rushing, they made a less-than-graceful entrance into the hall where the rehearsal and wedding would both take place. Aniri practically ran into her sister, First Daughter Nahali, who stood by the rear door with her Dharian nobleman husband, Ekan.

  “Still artful in making an entrance, I see,” Nahali said with a small smile, looking her over from head to toe. Aniri was painfully aware of how colorful and Jungali-like her dress was compared to Nahali’s more subdued gold-and-green embroidered corset and skirts. Her loose-fitting sweeps of fabric didn’t quite hide the bump that signaled a new Queen in the making. Or if it was a boy, a new prince, not to be made King unless Nahali failed to deliver another First Daughter to take eventually her place.

  Priya pressed her lips together and took a step back, but Aniri straightened and stood tall to face her brilliant and commanding sister. Nahali would never have made such a graceless entrance: she was far too regal. Something Aniri never thought she possessed, until Ash had pointed it out. Only he had called it arrogance. And he was right.

  “You can be assured the wedding will be properly royal,” Aniri said, not entirely reining in t
he sarcasm. “Just wait until you see the dancing.” She managed to keep the smirk inside.

  “I’m sure Aniri has been rushing about with important duties.” Ekan flashed his ridiculously gorgeous smile, the one that made all the women at court fan themselves, even though Ekan only had eyes for Nahali. The perfect First Daughter wouldn’t accept anything less. “Have you killed any bad guys lately, Aniri? Rumor at court is that you single-handedly skewered the general with your father’s sword before disabling the sky weapon with it.”

  Nahali gave him a sideways look. “You know perfectly well the general merely fell to his death.” She turned a cool look to Aniri. “We’re just lucky our Third Daughter didn’t tumble off the skyship as well.”

  Heat surged up in Aniri’s face, but she managed to keep her face neutral. “I was lucky to have Janak to ensure my safety.”

  “Indeed. It’s fortunate Mother sent him with you, although he barely seemed to survive your escapades.”

  Aniri struggled to conjure a civil response to that.

  Priya leapt to her rescue. “Oh, look, my lady. The Queen and Mr. Janak have already arrived.” She pointed to the front of the room, and for the first time since entering it, Aniri drew her attention away from her imperious older sister and took in the changes that had been wrought throughout the room for the rehearsal. A myriad of chairs had been brought in, readying the room for many more guests than they had at the engagement party, and a small elevated platform at the front was clearly the center attraction. Her mother and Janak were having a hushed conversation in an alcove to the side, their heads bent close enough together to call the discussion intimate. Aniri tried to tamp down her hopes that romance had bloomed in the short time she had been away. Janak noticed Priya’s outburst and gave them a small nod to indicate he and the Queen would join them shortly.

  Near the platform, the prince gathered with Nisha and two young girls who must be her daughters. The adults talked quietly with a woman dressed in the plain robes of a priestess, while the girls decorated their hair with flowers stolen from the scattered baskets on the platform. Guards held posts at the two entrances, front and back, and more were outside—Ash had increased security throughout the palace due to the high concentration of royalty in one place. But otherwise the room was empty. It struck Aniri with a jab of sadness to realize that Nisha and her girls were the only living representatives of Ash’s family.

  Behind them stood a life-sized statue of Devrakama, the god of passionate love. His bulging muscles, broad shoulders, and narrowed hips were the picture of male beauty, while his piercing gaze was a force of masculine passion she could feel from across the room. The love god’s bare granite chest was draped in several garlands of real flowers, the waxy white-petaled kind she and Ash fed to each other at the engagement party. The statue’s six hands grasped still more flowers, except for the one holding a slender spear wrapped in flower vines and tipped, according to the myths, with a poison that would keep two lovers perpetually rapt in passionate love.

  “Well, that’s… charming,” said Nahali. “Devrakama should bring a certain Jungali flavor to the ceremonies. I do hope we won’t have to offer up anything other than flowers.”

  Aniri scowled. She had no idea what the ceremony involved, hence the rehearsal, but whatever the Jungali customs, she prayed that Devrakama would banish her older sister’s arrogance. Or at least restrain Aniri’s passions before she said something she regretted.

  A nudge from Priya jostled Aniri out of her glare just as the Queen and Janak arrived at their side. Her mother swept Aniri into an uncharacteristically warm hug, and Aniri hesitated only a tiny moment before returning the affection. Janak stood slightly back from their reunion, the gruff look on his face inscrutable as always. He was the Queen’s raksaka, the stealthy protectors of royalty and occasional assassins, and he guarded her mother’s life with his own. Aniri knew he secretly loved the Queen, but his impassive face gave no hint of it. They were both dressed as if for high tea in her mother’s court—the Queen in muted golds and lavenders, Janak in his characteristic black, but with a royal jacket. They appeared not at all weary from their travels deep into the Jungali mountains, but Aniri regretted the rush to wed that brought them here. It had only been a few days since Aniri was at Janak’s bedside, wondering if he would survive, yet here he stood, his bearing as filled with controlled power as it ever was. If he was still suffering from his grave injuries, it didn’t show.

  When the Queen released her, Aniri said, “I’m so glad you’re here, Mother.”

  She held Aniri by both shoulders. “Well, of course I’m here,” she scolded, but lightly. “How can we join two families without the family members being present?” Of course, their wedding was more than that, but Aniri loved that her mother saw them first as family, second as nations. She impetuously pulled her mother into another hug, and the Queen’s shoulders shook with a small laugh, but she was smiling when Aniri pulled back and ducked her head slightly in embarrassment.

  “How are you faring, Janak?”’ Aniri asked softly.

  “Well enough to perform my duties, your most royal highness.” It wasn’t what she meant, but a small tip of his head and a tiny raise of an eyebrow meant he knew that. At least she hoped he did. She would have to sequester him soon to express her true concerns, but first, there were more pressing matters.

  She took the Queen’s hands in hers. “Mother, there are some things I need to discuss with you.” Aniri cast a furtive look to the alcoves that lined the room, wondering if she could justify pulling her mother aside for a quick discussion of the Samirians, their possible skyship, and how she could convince Seledri to come home.

  The Queen squeezed her hands and smiled. “And many things I wish to talk to you about as well. But I believe there are some ceremonial duties which need to come first.” She glanced to the front, and sure enough, Nisha and the prince had finished their discussion with the priestess and were watching them expectantly.

  Aniri held back her sigh of frustration. “Very well. Let’s not keep them waiting.” The sooner the rehearsal was finished, the sooner she could speak with her mother alone. Or possibly with Janak. He was her closest advisor, still, even if he hadn’t yet expressed his true feelings.

  Aniri led the way to the front. The controlled sparkle in Ash’s eyes made her both smile and blush, but fortunately, Nisha intercepted her first in an enthusiastic hug. Her dress was as colorful as Aniri’s and Priya’s—pure Jungali blue with purple drapings and not even a corset to contain them—while her hair flowed unbound around her, matching her exuberance. She stepped back to introduce the others.

  “These are my daughters, Nikhita and Tissa.” As Nisha said their names, they popped up from the platform where they had been playing with the flowers and pressed their hands together to bow.

  “Arama, Queen Malik,” the older one, Nikhita, said. She was perhaps ten, with lively eyes and her mother’s beauty.

  Aniri couldn’t help smiling and pressing her hands to bow in return. “Arama, Princess Nikhita.”

  The younger one, who was maybe eight, tugged on Nikhita’s elbow and loudly whispered, “But she’s not Queen yet, is she?”

  “Tissa!” Nisha said. “Aniri will be our Queen soon enough.”

  Tissa looked to Aniri with wide eyes, pressed her hands together, and bowed.

  Aniri held back her chuckle, but she could hear Ash’s quite well. She bowed to Tissa with a show of solemnity. “I would be delighted to be your Queen, Miss Tissa. But first, I must marry your uncle.” Then she winked at Tissa, who grinned and then hid behind her big sister’s sky-blue dress.

  Nisha shook her head and then turned to the priestess. “And this is Sage Padma.”

  Padma bowed. “Arama, Princess Aniri. I look forward to joining you and Ashoka together before our gods and your families in accordance with our most sacred traditions.”

  Aniri smiled, bowed in return, then shot a look to Ash. A flush went through her—she was fairly su
re it was excitement, not nerves—but she hoped he would help her through the ceremony. For his part, Ash was still grinning at the girls and making faces for them.

  Nisha must have seen her hesitation. “Don’t worry, Aniri. I’ll walk you through everything.” She smiled wide and motioned all the family representing Aniri’s side toward the front door. “We’ll start with the entrance. The bride’s family mustn’t enter the wedding hall until the groom’s family has consecrated it for her.”

  Nisha’s daughters, Ash, and Sage Padma stayed behind as the rest were herded into the hall by Nisha. Aniri smiled at the slightly awkward look on Janak’s face, as if he wasn’t sure if he belonged in her entourage, but was unable to leave the Queen’s side in any case.

  As Nisha shuffled them around and lined them up, Aniri edged over to Janak’s side. “My mother should have an escort for the ceremony,” she said quietly, low enough that only he would hear over Nisha’s chipper exposition about the formalities. “To be honest, I was afraid she might bring one of those charming but vapid courtesans she favors.”

  He frowned. “Courtesans are useless for most things, when they’re not being downright dangerous.”

  He was referring to Devesh, who Janak had suspicions about from the beginning. And, of course, he had been right all along. Whereas Aniri had been as foolish as Janak had believed. Still, she inwardly triumphed at his bristling. Her mother’s habit of keeping courtesans would come quickly to an end, if she knew of Janak’s love for her: Aniri was certain of it. Getting Janak to admit as much would be the challenge.

  “It’s a good thing you’re here, then,” Aniri said. “Having the Queen’s most loyal raksaka by her side is a fitting way to attend my wedding.” She gave him a small smile, hoping it wasn’t too much.

  “My lady should pay attention or she’ll embarrass the crown,” he said gruffly, staring straight ahead.

  Aniri grinned. Janak shuffled forward as Nisha beckoned him with a rapid flutter of fingers. She had finished lining them up: the Queen and Janak first, followed by Nahali and Ekan, then Priya, and finally Aniri. Her sister, the First Daughter, held her place stiffly, as if offended by Nisha’s ordering them about.