Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) (13 page)

Prince Malik’s arm around Aniri’s waist was the only thing holding her up.

She grasped the slippery fabric at the back of the prince’s jacket, trying to keep the dizziness from sending her to the floor. He tightened his one-armed embrace and practically carried her over the threshold and back into his overly warm receiving room. She still couldn’t get enough air, and the fine draperies on the walls blurred into a colorful stream as the room spun.

Janak appeared out of nowhere. “What did you do to her?” There was low-pitched danger in his voice, and his iron-strong arms yanked her from the prince’s relatively gentle embrace.

“No—” Aniri gasped, but the effort to speak was too much to manage. Instead, she raised her hand to stop Janak from hurting the prince, but it only wavered in the air and landed on Janak’s face. He brushed her hand away and bent to lift her completely off the ground. She was just as glad—having his hands full with her kept him from attacking Prince Malik.

“Not,” Aniri wheezed between gasps for breath, “the prince’s,”—gasp—“fault.” Janak only scowled. She closed her eyes and willed the world to stop spinning, but her head only lolled against the rough fabric of his uniform. A pounding started on her temples, and a pressing headache welled up behind her eyes.

“My lady!” Aniri heard Priya arrive at her side. “What is wrong with her?”

“It’s the thin air,” Prince Malik said. “We came up the mountain so quickly... I shouldn’t have asked her to do the announcement so soon. She needs rest and plenty of water.”

The iron bands of Janak’s arms tightened around her, and she sensed they were moving for real now, not the surreal motion inside her head. She kept her eyes tightly shut, pressing the heel of her hand to them and trying to shove the pain away from her skull. Janak didn’t say a word. His movements were smooth but gained speed. She was thankful for once to have his strength at her disposal, to whisk her away from the embarrassment of nearly fainting in front of the prince and his people.

Her people.

Soon they were back in her room. Janak carefully laid her down on a bed with silken covers that felt cool against her skin. All she wanted was to crawl under the heaped cushions and feather-down blankets and wait for the headache to pass, but Priya pried her hands from her head and forced a glass of water into them. Aniri drank as much as she could, then lay back and watched the draped sheer fabric that flounced the top of her four-poster bed spin in a dance without music or actual motion. She couldn’t decide if it was better or worse with her eyes open, but she shut them anyway.

It took nearly two hours, and several glasses of water tended to her by Priya, before the room stopped moving. When she finally opened her eyes again, she found Priya had shut out the bright afternoon light with heavy drapes drawn across the windows.

“Are you feeling better, my lady?” Priya sat at the end of Aniri’s bed, far enough not to disturb her, but close enough to be on hand. Aniri gingerly sat up, afraid the headache would rush back.

Priya edged closer, but Aniri waved her off. “I can’t believe the thinness of the air could render me so… insensible.”

Priya leaned toward her on the bed and said with a soft smile, “Perhaps it was the prince’s kiss that stole your breath.”

Aniri grimaced. “I didn’t swoon because of the prince, Priya. The kiss was simply… necessary.”

“Oh yes.” Priya’s eyes were wide and her nod fervent. “Completely necessary. I agree.”

Aniri shook her head, but that only brought back a sense that the room was about to spin, so she stopped.

“Prince Malik says the air sickness is common.” Janak’s voice came from a desk in the corner of the room where his black boots were propped. “Visitors from the plains experience shortened breath and sometimes dizziness in the first few days after arrival.”

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

“Fortunately, this mountain sickness has only afflicted you and your delicate disposition, your most royal highness.” He was back to insulting her, which Aniri took to mean he thought she would survive. “While you’ve been recovering your health, I’ve received a message from your mother.”

“Have you?” Aniri blinked. Her eyes were still having difficulty seeing properly. She eased her bare feet—Priya must have removed her shoes—to the cool stones of the floor and shuffled toward Janak’s carved wooden desk. She held on to the posts of the bed as she went, still unsteady. Priya fluttered around her. When Aniri reached the desk, Janak waved Priya off, a motion she ignored. Laid out next to Janak was a contraption so complex, Aniri’s blurry eyes had difficulty deciphering it.

Janak frowned. “Please send your handmaiden away so we may conduct our business.”

“We are the only Dharians deep inside enemy territory,” Aniri said. “Do you not think that perhaps we should trust each other? Priya already knows most of our secrets, anyway, Janak. Probably more than you.”

Janak narrowed his eyes at Priya, who gave him a haughty look that only soured his temper more. “As you wish, your supreme eminence,” he said to Aniri. “Perhaps we should call in the prince’s guard outside the door as well? He’ll know as soon as your handmaiden goes whispering favors from him.”

It was Priya’s turn to glare, which Aniri interrupted with a hand on her shoulder. “This requires the utmost secrecy, Priya. Please tell me we can count on you to keep it.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Priya did a small curtsey that made Aniri smile.

“It will disappoint you to know we are not here for marriage or swoon-worthy kisses or romance of any kind,” Aniri said. “Our mission is espionage. And I imagine we will need your skills if we are to find the Jungali’s secret flying machine for the Queen.”

“Oh.” Priya’s mouth still formed the circle of that word long after sound stopped coming out.

Aniri grinned, then turned to Janak and gestured to the box splayed before him. “What is this device?” The mechanism had concentric wheels, a small crank, gears throughout, and a series of keys with odd shaped symbols. She couldn’t discern the function of any part of it.

“This is your mother’s aetheroceiver.”

Aniri nodded. She knew of the devices, of course, but she had never seen one. There were only a few, and the Queen restricted their use to those who had need of them. Janak proceeded to fold up various flaps and hinged parts, tucking them neatly inside one another like nested boxes, until the entire thing collapsed into a rectangular box no bigger than her feet put together. There seemed no obvious way to make it come back apart again.

“In the event that something happens to me, princess, I want you to know how to open and operate it yourself.”

Aniri nodded gravely, not missing Janak’s dark undertone. He always believed the world was one breath away from catastrophe, but in this case, the danger they faced if the prince discovered their true intentions was probably high enough to warrant it.

Janak placed three fingers on three symbols along the ornately carved brass surface of the box: a clutch of wheat, the Queen’s crown, and a feather. When all three were pressed simultaneously, a clicking sounded deep within the device, and the box loosened itself, slowly unfolding before her eyes. When it came to rest, it had returned to its original position.

“They are crafted in pairs, and this one is matched with the aetheroceiver in your mother’s office,” Janak said. “They are actually Samirian in design, replicated by our Dharian tinkers. The Samir think themselves very clever with their mechanical devices, but the technology is not so difficult to copy.”

Janak showed her how to fold it up again, and then he pointed to the three symbols.

“Can you remember them?” He wasn’t mocking her, and for a change, he appeared deadly earnest. She matched his serious tone with a sharp nod. The symbols were obvious, at least to a member of the royal family. The clutch of wheat was straight from the Dharian royal crest, symbolic of Dharia’s breadbasket plains, which fed the world. Several crowns adorned the box, in various sizes and orientations, but the one belonging to the Queen was clear to someone who had grown up knowing she would never wear it: a tiny pearl drop in the center gave it away amongst its many cousins. And the feather—it was her mother’s nickname for her father. A personal thing. Would the Queen have shared the significance of it with Janak? Aniri had a hard time imagining that conversation, and it brought a queasy feeling to her stomach.

She brushed that aside with a deep breath and quickly pressed all three symbols.

The device unfolded itself before her.

“While the aetheroceivers speak to each other,” Janak said, turning his dark gaze up to her, the seriousness making it sharp as well, “it’s still possible another aetheroceiver could intercept the signal. Especially when the device itself was originally designed by one’s enemies.”

Aniri didn’t think of the Samir as their enemies, but technically Janak was right, so she didn’t correct him. He pointed to two concentric spinner wheels lying flat on one side. One wheel was etched with the strange symbols of the keys, while the other contained letters.

“It’s a code,” Aniri guessed.

Janak turned the outer wheel, one click for each letter-symbol combination. “The code provides encryption. An additional level of security for the transmission. Your mother and I agreed on the key before we left.” He clicked the wheel to a stop. “Align the triangle with the letter A. Then the wheels act as a decoder. Here is the message I received earlier from the Queen.”

Janak pulled a long, curled tape from a cubby within the machine. It was punched with the symbols on the keys, and below each one, in Janak’s meticulous print, were letters that spelled out a message.

KISS WELL RECEIVED IN DHARIA WELL DONE SEND INTEL

Aniri braced herself on the desk. The rumors were even faster than brushfire, it seemed. Hours later, her mother no doubt expected Aniri would have a full report on her true mission. Instead she had spent the last couple of hours in a swoon in her bed. It was rather monstrously embarrassing. Aniri straightened from the desk.

“Please send a reply,” Aniri said. “Ask my mother if the prince has previously traveled to Dharia.”

Janak frowned, but didn’t question it. He took out a small notebook tucked into a pocket at the back of the aetheroceiver. He jotted a message in it:

DID PRINCE TRAVEL PREVIOUS TO DHARIA

He carefully consulted his encryption wheel, assigning the appropriate symbols to each number. Then he wound the side crank of the aetheroceiver several dozen times, setting in motion a whir of clicks inside the device. When it was thrumming, he carefully tapped each key in sequence, sending the message.

Then he turned to Aniri. “You seem to have made some strides in gaining the prince’s good graces, your most royal highness,” Janak said drily. Aniri glared at him. “Perhaps you can put that advantage to work.”

The aetheroceiver began to spit out more of the curling tape, a return message. He pulled it out, quickly consulting his decrypter and making careful marks on the tape.

YES WHY

Janak looked to her.

“Just checking one of the prince’s stories,” Aniri said. “I’m not sure how truthful he is being. But I think you are right, Janak. I need to have a more intimate conversation with the prince if we hope to make any progress on finding this flying machine.” She gestured to the aetheroceiver. “Please tell my mother we will report back soon.”

While Janak scribbled and transcribed the message, Aniri searched the desk for parchment and found a quill pen as well, but no ink. The pen had a large crystal barrel with some apparent clockwork inside. It seemed designed to twist, and when she did, it hissed. A tiny drop of ink appeared at the nib, so she hastened to write her note. When she was done, she untwisted the pen to stop whatever pressure was pushing out the ink. She folded the paper and gave it to Priya, who had been reading over her shoulder the entire time.

“Please deliver this to the prince.”

While Priya scurried off with her note, Aniri turned to Janak. “The prince spoke about the four generals in charge of the military in the different provinces. He seems to think they are key to solidifying his hold on the crown.”

“The military is always the key to holding power.” That, of course, was how Janak would see things. But the Queen’s court was driven far more by political intrigue than a jostling of military might.

“A good Queen rules by the consent of her governed.” Aniri was surprised to find herself quoting her mother. “However, maybe Jungali is so riven by internal strife that military power reigns stronger than love of Queen and country.” Although the prince certainly seemed as concerned with the temper of his people as her mother often was. “If the flying machine exists, it seems logical it would fall under the purview of one of the generals to maintain and operate.”

“Indeed,” Janak said. “Which means that general would have the most knowledge of its inner workings as well as how it could best be used in an attack on Dharia.”

“I’m not entirely convinced the Jungali mean to go to war with us,” Aniri said. “Perhaps the generals are infighting to gain control of the provinces for themselves. General Garesh seems to pose a particular threat, and he apparently has little love for royalty. Maybe he means to put Jungali under military rule. We need to learn more about him.”

“I don’t care for the idea of you having any more contact with General Garesh,” Janak said. “He is certain to be more dangerous than our young prince. And more likely to want to kill you than kiss you.”

“Perhaps I should bring a dagger. For any unwanted advances,” Aniri said coolly. Not that she cared to be alone with General Garesh any more than Janak wanted.

Janak pushed back the aetheroceiver and laced his fingers. “Your supremely royal highness may not recognize it, but my job here is simple: I am to return you alive to her majesty’s court. It is my first, and only, duty as raksaka. One I imagine will be challenging enough, given your suitability—or should I say lack of suitability—for this mission, either in training or temper.”

Heat rose fast in her cheeks. Aniri opened her mouth to object, but Janak raised a hand to cut her off.