The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One

by Andrea Stewart

  I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” I’d thought of this over and over. I didn’t want to leave Mephi again, and despite my misgivings about Gio’s motives, his words rang true to me. How would I explain this at the palace? What could I offer?

  They’d know I was Jovis. The Emperor or one of his lackeys had ordered the portraits of me made. If I was to keep my appearance and keep Mephi, the only way I could infiltrate the palace was as a prisoner. It could still work. They’d find me harder to kill than they’d first considered. And I had information they’d want. I knew where Kaphra and all the highest Ioph Carn were hidden.

  It was the only plan I had. “I give myself up,” I said to Mephi. “I offer my services.”

  He strode over to me and pressed his forehead against my hip. “We do it together. I’ve done things they wouldn’t like too.”

  “So you have.” I ruffled the fur on the top of his head. His language skills seemed to be improving.

  It began to rain in earnest as we arrived at Imperial’s harbor. I pulled on an oilskin jacket, though rain still blew beneath the hood and trickled down my neck. Mephi trotted beside me, leaning his head back and opening his mouth to catch the rain. He licked his nose and shook his head, showering me with even more moisture. “At least one of us is enjoying the weather,” I said.

  He huffed something that sounded like a laugh.

  I paid the dockworker construct and headed into the city. Imperial was lavish by any island’s standards. The buildings rose several stories, all topped with tiled roofs. After the rebuilding, Imperial had been the first city to rise. It showed in the sculptures that adorned some of the stoops and the gutters. I kept Mephi close to me. In this weather, he could be mistaken for a dog. And people here were used to all the Emperor’s constructs. Another strange creature didn’t warrant much attention.

  I leaned on my staff as I climbed the streets toward the palace. How would I do it? Knock on the great doors and ask to see the Emperor? I could look for one of those posters and take it with me in case anyone was unsure of who I was. I glanced up.

  And my heart froze. A figure walked up the street ahead of me, cloaked in dark gray. It was unnaturally tall, just like the one I’d seen on the blue-sailed boat. Had the blue-sailed boat been in the harbor? I hadn’t looked for it, and the weather had obscured the other ships. Around us, people went about their business, glancing into the figure’s hood and then looking away, their heads down.

  “Hey,” I called out. “You, in front of me.”

  The figure didn’t stop or even pause. They climbed the slope faster, broad shoulders moving as they pumped their arms.

  “Wait! I need to talk to you.”

  But the figure only moved away, toward the palace. I wove through the people in the streets, rain running into my eyes. So many times I’d seen that infernal boat, only to have it slip away from me despite my best efforts. I couldn’t let this be the same.

  “Jovis.” Mephi trotted beside me. “Need me to—?”

  “Hush.” I patted his head to soften the blow, and glanced around at the people in the streets. He took my meaning and kept his tongue behind his teeth. “We should hurry. Stay with me.”

  I broke into a jog to keep up, my legs still unsteady from the sea. The earth felt like it rolled beneath me, disorienting me with every step. As soon as I began to run, the figure did too. Of all the things in the world and in the depths of the Endless Sea – of course this wouldn’t be easy even when I was so close. I gritted my teeth. I’d had to scrounge and scrape for every clue I’d found; why would this be any different?

  The palace walls loomed ahead, the paint and plaster chipped in places, revealing the stone beneath. The red gates were closed and took more than one person to open. Beyond, I could see green-tiled rooftops. If I could back this person against the palace walls, if I could send Mephi to cut them off on the other side . . .

  Before I could give Mephi the command, the figure crouched at the base of the palace walls, and leapt. Hands clutched at the top of the wall, and then another pair of hands joined the first pair, propelling the cloaked figure over the ramparts.

  I skidded to a halt, breathless. Two pairs of hands. This wasn’t a person. It was a construct. Ranami had been right. My answers lay here, in the very heart of the Empire. All constructs were under the command of the Emperor. Whatever had happened to Emahla, it had started with him.

  I knelt at the base of the wall, the sound of my breathing filling the hood of my coat, rasping and harsh. What could I do against an Empire? It had been a hopeless task from the beginning.

  Mephi’s face appeared in front of me. He peered into my hood. “We go over?” he said, his voice quiet.

  I looked at him and then the wall. The places with the stone exposed provided some handholds. My bones began to thrum. I had the strength to make it over. “Get on my back and hold on,” I told Mephi. I grunted as he clutched at me, but I could bear his weight. I strapped my staff to my back and began to climb.

  The ramparts, when we arrived, were eerily silent. No one stood there. The governor’s palace at Nephilanu had been a fortress in comparison. I scanned the palace grounds. Empty except for one figure, cloaked in gray. With the magic humming in my veins, I could catch them. I hesitated. Something here felt wrong. The place didn’t just feel run-down; it felt abandoned. What had the Emperor been doing when he’d been holed up behind his walls? Outside them, his constructs ran the world. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken of the Emperor even venturing into Imperial City, much less beyond. Or, for that matter, anyone being invited into the palace. When I’d been younger, things had been different. Envoys went to Imperial regularly and were sent away awed by what they’d seen – an Emperor and his wife, both at the height of their power. He had an heir, I knew, but no one had much to say about her.

  I climbed halfway down the walls and let go. A little of the magic leaked out as I landed, sending a tremor through the earth and shaking the walls. When I turned to look for the gray-cloaked figure again, they were running toward the main palace building.

  Not this time.

  Mephi clambered from my shoulders, and I put all my strength into running. Each step I took was a bound, the broken cobblestones of the courtyard passing in a blur beneath me. Mephi ran beside me, ears flattened to his skull. We passed empty buildings, halls that hadn’t been used in years. Ahead, the figure tried in vain to outrun us.

  At the palace steps, I caught the edge of their cloak.

  The construct whirled as the cloak fell away. Rough gray cloth wrapped around the creature’s limbs and body. Four spindly arms snapped out, looking like nothing so much as the giant jaws of some insect ready to attack. The legs were too long, as was the face. The pale skin there had been stitched together without care or concern for how it might look. Dark eyes sat too high on the construct’s face; a large, thin-lipped mouth with pointed teeth seemed to take up the entire lower half.

  But I was too angry for fear to seize hold of my heart. “What did you do with her?”

  “Who?” The construct’s voice rasped like sandpaper. It backed up another step toward the doors.

  “You took her from the only life she ever wanted. She had plans. She had things she wanted to do. You took that all away from her. You took it all away from me.” Words spilled out of me, words I’d not had an outlet for. I vomited them forth. “Seven years ago. Anau Isle. You left nineteen coins on her bedspread.”

  “Fair price paid,” the construct said. “The Emperor is not unfair.” It took another step back.

  Mephi growled and slipped away from me. He padded up the steps and cut off the construct’s escape.

  I drew the steel staff from my back. “Tell me what happened to her.”

  The construct tilted its head as though calculating figures. It looked at me. “No.”

  The thrumming in my bones exploded into my body, sending heat and fire through my veins. I leapt forward. The construct met
me, its four hands moving quicker than any person’s. Before I could even land a blow, it had pulled four knives from somewhere on its person. They flashed like lightning against the cloudy sky. It blocked my staff with two knives, the other two snaking toward my torso.

  Mephi seized the construct by the calf, sinking his teeth into its flesh. It howled, and I used its brief distraction to spin my staff and strike it hard on one wrist. The hand opened, sending the blade skittering down the steps. Three blades left. Three blades too many.

  I’d fought against Imperial soldiers, but the ones sent to enforce the Tithing Festival were young, inexperienced. They seldom encountered any resistance, so why send hardened soldiers? This construct moved in a way I was unfamiliar with, long limbs flowing with the grace of an egret darting for prey. Even as the blade fell down the palace steps, the construct’s arms moved. I blocked two with my staff. The third seized the end of my staff and held it as the fourth sliced across my chest. I felt the cloth and skin part, the stinging of the rain as it ran into the wound. Mephi circled, searching for an opening. I couldn’t underestimate this foe. The Emperor’s war constructs were simple creatures. It seemed he’d put more work into this one. I had no idea of the commands written into this creature, what knowledge it had been given.

  I jabbed experimentally with the end of my staff. The construct caught it before I could ram its belly. Mephi, as though reading my mind, darted in, teeth aimed at the other leg. Without even glancing behind, the construct flourished its three blades at Mephi, forcing him back. I pushed the thrum to the bottom of my feet, stomped.

  The steps trembled. The construct tried to steady itself on its spindly legs. The injured one gave way, sending the construct to its knees. Both Mephi and I leapt forward. I struck another wrist. The construct snarled, its fingers still tight around the blade. I struck again. This time, the construct’s fingers opened.

  I felt the impact before I felt the pain. A punching sensation struck my thigh. I glanced down to see the handle of a knife embedded in my leg. The construct yanked it free. There was the pain now, a symphony to the lone instrument of the gash across my chest.

  Mephi let out a strangled cry. Panic pulsed through me. Mephi had seized another of the construct’s arms at the elbow, but the construct had been able to twist its arm, hooking the blade into the soft flesh of Mephi’s ear. It tore the blade free, leaving a bloody mess of the ear. Both of us drew back, alert, assessing the damage.

  I couldn’t put much weight on my injured leg. Mephi’s ear hung limp against the side of his head. The construct only had two blades left. And then the creature grinned at me. It was an unsettling expression on a thing that was supposed to be only following commands written into its shards. I lifted my staff, preparing for an attack. But the construct whirled. I struck it on the back, too late.

  It plunged both blades into Mephi’s shoulders.

  Mephi’s cry tore my heart in two. The thrumming built in my chest like the rumbling of thunder from an approaching storm. My awareness of the water around us sharpened. Without even thinking, I reached. The rain around me stopped, mid-fall. I gathered the droplets, pulling them from the air and then the ground. All I could think was how this creature had hurt Mephi and I needed to end it. A wave of water formed, crashing into the construct with the force of the ocean against a cliff.

  The construct fell away from Mephi, carried down the steps with the waterfall. I leapt after it.

  When I knelt on its chest, my staff held against its neck, it held no more blades in its hands. “What happened to her?” I cried out. “You took her. What do you do with them?”

  A cough erupted from the construct’s throat; a blood-tinged foam touched its lips. “I do nothing. I bring them here.”

  I pressed harder. “What happens to them after you bring them? Tell me.”

  The construct gritted its teeth. “If I tell you, you swear to let me go.”

  “I swear it,” I said.

  “They go to the Emperor for his experiments. This woman you seek – if it was seven years ago she was taken, she is long dead.”

  I thought I’d accepted it; I’d thought I could move on from this. But hearing it, knowing now it was true unleashed a wellspring of grief. The rain around me seemed to fall harder. I would never see her again, and never was a longer time than I could ever comprehend.

  I rose to my feet, my fingers clenched around my staff.

  “You promised,” the construct said, trying to wriggle free.

  I put a heel on its chest. “I am not a construct. I can lie whenever I choose.” I brought the staff down hard on the construct’s head and felt the crack of its skull. I collapsed, the weight of sorrow pressing like a heavy hand upon my chest. I’d come all this way, had left behind my family, had given up my career – and I would have done so much more, anything. But I was too late. I’d likely been too late by the time I’d found the silver coins across Emahla’s bedspread.

  Mephi whimpered.

  My friend was still alive. I still had responsibilities here, things I needed to do. When I sat up, I saw Mephi standing near the top of the palace steps, his head low, blood mixing with the rain and dripping from his jaw. The two knives jutted from his shoulders. He glanced at me and wheezed. “Not good.”

  I went to him and pulled my tunic over my head. Carefully, I pulled the knives free as he hissed, then tied my tunic tight around the wounds. I scratched him under the chin. “Can you walk? We need to get you some help.”

  “I can walk. Slowly.” His nose found the wound in my leg. “You?”

  “Slowly,” I said. I surveyed the empty palace grounds, the lack of guards at the door. “Something’s not right here. No people, no constructs except for that one.”

  My staff tight in my hands, I climbed the steps with Mephi and tried the door. It swung open at my touch, revealing an empty entrance hall, the lamps unlit. I stepped inside, conscious of the rain and blood I dripped onto the floor. Scenes of peacocks and mountains were painted between the pillars against the walls. A faded mural graced the wall above the steps, men and women hand-in-hand. Their gazes seemed to be fixed on me.

  “Keep close,” I said to Mephi, twining my fingers into his fur.

  We climbed the steps of the entrance hall and ventured into a dark hallway, our footsteps echoing.

  A voice emerged from the darkness, sending the hairs on my arms on end. “Who are you?”

  44

  Lin

  Imperial Island

  I lay on the floorboards as the constructs destroyed one another above me. My father’s and Bayan’s attacked one another, heedless of which were meant to be friend or foe; mine attacked my father’s. I heard the click of footsteps, and then Bing Tai’s cold nose touched my cheek, a huff of warm breath gusted across my forehead.

  I’d won.

  Bayan was dead. Numeen and his family were dead. And here I was, still alive and more alone than I’d felt since I’d first awoken to chrysanthemums painted on the ceiling above me. I rolled onto my belly and pushed myself to my feet. Only the simple war constructs were left, and Bing Tai. As I watched, the last of my father’s was taken down. The dining room, a mess of overturned chairs and broken furniture, fell into silence. Above, rain pattered on the tile roof. I pressed a hand to the wound on my shoulder, grimaced and tore my sleeve off to fashion a makeshift bandage. The wound across my belly was shallow enough. I’d have to clean it later.

  “Bayan?” My voice trembled in the empty air. I shouldn’t have even tried, but hope clung to my bones. No one answered. I limped over to where he’d fallen.

  He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his throat torn open. I didn’t realize I was kneeling until I was crouched at his side, my hands hovering helplessly over his neck. He was a construct. There had to be a way to repair him, even now once he’d died. If I did repair him, he’d be a new construct, no memory of me or his life before. Whatever magic my father had used to put memories into my mind and into Bayan
’s, it was an imperfect magic I did not know.

  I strode to my father’s fallen form next, still cautious, still not quite believing he was dead. The surviving war constructs had settled where they stood, sitting on haunches or lying on the floorboards, watching me. Bing Tai followed me, guarding my back. Shiyen lay face down, blood pooling beneath him and staining his robes. I knelt and touched his neck. His skin, papery thin and gray, had already begun to cool.

  With some pain and effort, I turned him over. Sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. I’d have to send out missives announcing his death. The governors would expect a grand funeral, but I could ask for privacy. Even though Shiyen hadn’t been to the other islands since he was young, they’d met him. They hadn’t met me. I’d have to spend some time establishing diplomatic ties. And there was the larger matter of the constructs. The simpler ones would turn mad, sowing chaos. The more complex ones – I wasn’t sure. The Empire I’d inherited was already fraying at the edges, and this would only tug loose more threads.

  A glint caught my eye. The chain of keys around my father’s neck. I unfastened the clasp and pulled it free. I still hadn’t found the place where he’d so often disappeared to. There was that door in the old mining shaft, the one that looked like it had seen some use. I steeled myself and patted down my father’s corpse.

  Something small and solid was tucked into his sash pocket. I reached inside and pulled forth a small, golden key. Somehow I knew – this would open the door in the tunnel.

  I should rest. I should call forth the servants from wherever they’d hidden during the battle. I should clean my wounds and change my clothes. But the pull of unveiled mysteries was too strong for me to ignore. Had his wife been so curious as well? The trek to the old mining tunnels seemed to take a lifetime. I kept touching the walls, each footfall a reminder that this palace was mine. These floors, these walls were now my property to do with as I willed. Bing Tai kept pace with me, and I leaned on him when I felt I didn’t have the strength.