Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) (24 page)

“You’ll see when we get to Sik.”

“I wondered where you would have hidden the flying machine—the skyship—but I would never have guessed Sik province. Isn’t that General Garesh’s province?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s where we’re going?”

“I didn’t say it would be a safe voyage, princess.” He gave her shrewd look. “Only that I could show you the machine.”

“Does he know we’re coming?”

Prince Malik gestured to their hoods and weapons.

Aniri guessed not. “But you’re still the Prince of Jungali. Surely you can visit your own skyship if you choose. Is it just because I am along to see it as well?”

Prince Malik shook his head and sighed. “My brother was the spearhead for the initial design of the skyship. He was the first to see the potential, as soon as the navia was discovered. It was his dream—he wanted to see Jungali an equal among the nations of our world, not just a group of warring provinces and backwater barbarians. He saw it as our ticket into equal status, a power to be respected, but above all, he saw it as a way to bring even more trade deep into the mountains. He liked to say it would make our world smaller.”

“I… never thought of it that way.” And she hadn’t. She had only conceived of the flying ship as a weapon, a threat to Dharia, even when it was only a bare rumor she hadn’t paid much attention to. Which a skyship certainly could be, if it existed. Would be, in anyone else’s hands. She had that peculiar shame again, like the prince and his thoughts were instinctively more noble than hers. She hadn’t even imagined the Jungali could want something more than war for their own nation. And she had taken for granted the status of her country, not realizing that others—the Samirians as well as the Jungali—might want also want the respect Dharia commanded.

“Tosh had wonderful plans,” the prince continued. “From the beginning, he fought with Garesh, who saw only the military potential. When my brother died, and the Queen soon after… I’m not just trying to honor the peace he was working toward, Aniri. I’m doing everything I can to make his dreams come true with the skyship he built. The last thing I want is to destroy the ship, but I need to gain the crown before I can make it bend to the purpose my brother originally intended. For now, the last person the general wants to see at the airharbor is me. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s looking for a reason to have me arrested, no matter how thin the charge. If I were to bring a Dharian, before we are officially wed, to see our most secret military weapon… well, that would surely qualify.”

She stared at him. “You’re taking a risk in showing this to me.”

He looked out over the forest to the distant horizon, which included several peaks shrouded in clouds. Although the farther north they traveled, those peaks seemed less high. “In more ways than one, Princess.”

She crossed the small stretch of carriage between them and touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Tell me.”

He gritted his teeth, then turned to her. “For one, I think the general is behind the attempt on your life. For another, you may decide to simply take this information back to Dharia, rendering the skyship less effective in a military sense. Although, honestly, I would welcome that at this point. At least it would reduce the skyship’s usefulness as a weapon of surprise. Does that make me a traitor, Aniri?”

“No,” she said, and meant it. “It makes you someone committed to peace.” And she believed that, too. Devesh’s words were still in her mind, but they had slunk into a dark corner to fester amongst themselves. Whatever the truth of the skyship—whether it existed or was merely some deranged figment of the prince’s imagination—he truly believed in peace and was trying to pursue it. She didn’t doubt that in the slightest.

The prince looked back at the horizon. “Sometimes I wonder.” Strangely, as convinced as she was of his intent, the prince seemed to doubt it himself. “General Garesh may be right. Perhaps I’m too soft to be a leader for a mountainous people whose only strategic advantage is that of a quilled rodent you can’t get hold of. Maybe I should seize the one offensive advantage we would finally have in this weapon.”

“I don’t believe you truly mean that,” Aniri said softly.

He took a breath and turned back to her, a small smile on his face. “Which is why I’m taking the risk of bringing you with me, Aniri.”

She shook her head and leaned slightly away. “I still don’t understand why you trust me. I lied to you.” She shrugged, hands out. “About practically everything.”

“You did.” He smirked. “And rather convincingly, too.”

Aniri flinched, his remark far too close to Devesh’s accusation in the privy about her performance in kissing the prince. That she was skilled in lying was not a tremendous shock—she had been raised in the Queen’s court after all—but it bothered her that the prince would know this about her. Which struck her as strange in itself.

“Maybe I am too soft-hearted, just as General Garesh believes.” The prince’s smirk softened into a shy smile. “But I still believe the woman who left her home on the plains in search of peace for her country is worth taking a risk for.”

Aniri felt heat creep up her neck. “I think you need to read less poetry, Prince Malik.”

He laughed and returned his sight to the horizon. “You’re probably right.”

She left him to his thoughts for the rest of the trip into Mahet, not wanting to push that line of reasoning too far. She was simply thankful he trusted her enough to take her to see the skyship, whatever his reasons.

Aniri kept her hood up, face nearly obscured, even though she and the prince were inside a shadowy inn of very dubious patronage, and the dim gaslamps barely gave off enough light to see the rough floor beneath her boots. They had arrived in Mahet, and it appeared they were staying the night. The prince insisted it wasn’t safe for her to room separately, and the innkeeper only spared her a glance or two while the prince made arrangements. Rooming together would invite extra scrutiny for the prince’s mysterious female companion, but she was beyond arguing with the prince about things which weren’t absolutely necessary.

The tiny establishment was inside the Mahet capital, but just barely, wedged against the perimeter granite walls and sandwiched between a stable and a butcher where animal carcasses competed with the raw manure from the stable for the most offensive smell. The fact that the innkeeper appeared to know the prince and asked few questions told her the prince made a habit of traveling along unconventional routes. He offered to carry her parcel, but she insisted on keeping it, afraid he would detect the heavy weight of the aetheroceiver inside the small trunk.

The prince marched ahead of her, with the innkeeper ahead of him, slipping surreptitious looks back at her, in spite of the extra bills she saw the prince slip to him, no doubt to keep his silence. What must he think? That the prince was having a secret affair on top of his recently revealed secret affair with her, the Princess of Dharia? What must the people think of their young sovereign? Or did his people indulge their young prince, recently bereft of his mother and brother both? She couldn’t tell, because the innkeeper kept his thoughts to himself as he unlocked a room on the highest floor, three levels up and with a view of the dark cobbled road below. There weren’t even gaslamps to light the way, only dim flickerings in the few cottages down the street, probably out of range of the stench. There was no one to see her standing at the window of their room, but just in case, Aniri pulled the curtains tight.

The prince was busy lighting a fire in the fireplace, but she kept her cloak in place. The outside chill pervaded the room, and a fine layer of grit lay on the neatly made bed dominating the center of the room, as if no one had occupied it in a very long time. She eyed it warily, wondering about the prince’s intentions only for a moment. Surely he would offer to take the floor. Or the heavy chair by the fireplace, but that didn’t look to offer any more comfort. By all rights, she should be the one sleeping on the floor, but she was sure he wouldn’t allow it. The privy was down the hall, but she wasn’t much inclined to use it, either to change or to use the facilities. She was cold enough that sleeping in her traveling clothes, cloak and all, might be the best option.

A small flame flickered in the fireplace, adding a bit of light if not yet warmth. The weak shadows it cast competed with the single gaslamp by the bed, somehow increasing the gloom by making the shadows move. The prince stood, clearly proud of his accomplishment.

He turned to her. “Are you ready for bed, Princess?” His face was cloaked in shadows, but she heard implications in his question that she chose to ignore.

“I may need to warm myself first.” She rubbed her arms over her coat and drifted to where he stood by the fireplace. “Is there any hope for heat from this tonight?”

He glanced at the bed. Now that she was closer, she could tell he was holding back a smile. “Whatever wicked thoughts you’re having, Prince Malik, be out with them already.”

“My honor, your majesty!” He threw a hand over his heart. “You tarnish it with your implications.”

“Please.” But she couldn’t help a small smile. “Your honor was tarnished as soon as we walked into this inn together.”

He grinned widely. “Perhaps that was my intention all along.”

“How many pretend lovers do you wish to have, Prince Malik?”

His grin tempered. “I
am
getting quite a reputation, the more time I spend with you, Princess Aniri. Apparently I’m the kind of sovereign who sneaks off for secret trysts with all manner of women in all kinds of exotic locales, even the rather smelly side of Mahet.” She turned away from his devilish grin and held her still-gloved hands out to the fire. There was still no discernible heat from it.

The bed let out an ominous creak as the prince bounded onto it. Aniri gave him a startled look, at once amazed that the ancient bed, which was probably stuffed with straw rather than a proper feather mattress, held up to his abuse at all, and doubly amazed he was in it. He patted the tattered bed covering next to him and arched his eyebrows, his grin still demonic.

“I suppose I’m sleeping on the floor, then,” Aniri said coldly, turning back to the fireplace and wondering how close she could sleep to it without running the danger of catching on fire. She cast about for at least a blanket to keep her warm, but there was only the bedding on the decrepit mattress behind her, which creaked again as the prince rose from it. Aniri grabbed hold of the heavy wooden chair and dragged it toward the fireplace, but only succeeded in moving it an inch or two before the prince arrived to help. The thing was ancient, with carved wooden arms and a straw-filled cushion, which probably weighed as much as the wood. It smelled of dewy must and horses.

The prince smiled softly when she finally met his gaze, the firelight dancing orange flickers across his face. “I can see you’re not much for humor right now, Aniri. Please excuse my sad attempts at it.”

She stood straight and tried to relax her shoulders, not sure why they were so tense. Then she gestured to the chair. “I’ll be fine here. It looks comfortable enough.”

The prince looked askance at it. “It looks like it’s fit for the stable, but I’ll manage what sleep I can with it.” He slipped between the narrow spot between the chair and the fire, taking a seat and stretching his boots out so they nearly touched the growing flames of the log he had set.

Aniri just stared at him. He was honorable through and through, and gentle with her as well, even when she mostly deserved his scorn for deceiving him. By all rights, he should have thrown her in the dungeon or whatever cell he kept for traitors and spies. Instead, he was taking a tremendous risk to show her his top military secrets and allowing her to sleep unmolested on the only bed in their chamber in the process. She felt... unworthy. Like it shamed her to be near someone with such a keen moral compass. In all her time at her mother’s court, filled with intrigue and pandering courtesans, she wasn’t quite sure if she had ever met someone so thoroughly
good
.

She unstrapped the dagger belted to her waist and set it on a small table by the fireplace. “I don’t deserve the bed, Prince Malik.”

“True,” he said with a straight face, examining the fire, then tilted a grin up to her. “But someone must sleep in it, or the rumors won’t be nearly as convincing.”

She shook her head and leaned against the stone facing of the fireplace. A small drift of heat snuck past the toes of her boots and crawled up her leggings underneath the cloak. “Will we reach Sik province on the morrow?” she asked.

“Yes. The skyship is hidden in a ravine to the north in the farthest reach of the province, not far from the navia mines. We will have to travel by shashee for the last leg of our trip. If we’re lucky, we’ll arrive before General Garesh can travel back from the engagement party.”

“If he finds you, it will go badly for you.” This concern weighed heavier on her than she expected.

“Then we’d best take care not to be found.” The prince stretched his arms, then laced his hands behind his head. He was still wrapped in his long, dark jacket with the bronze clasps along the top, but he had left his dagger by the bed, and his hood was thrown back. Flickers of firelight streaked his hair with orange, and his amber eyes shone in the dim light as he stared at the fire.