Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) (21 page)

The guard turned toward her, and in that moment of distraction, Devesh hit him hard on the chin, snapping the guard’s head to the side. The large man slumped into the wall, and Devesh hit him again, landing a blow behind his ear with a flat hand chop. The guard never made a sound, and his eyes glazed as he slowly slid down the wall.

Aniri’s mouth hung open. “Dev!”

Devesh ignored her outcry. He hooked his arms underneath the guard’s, then dragged him backward over the threshold of the privy. Aniri had to jump out of the way, grasping the doorframe to keep from falling as her feet tangled in her skirts. She righted herself and followed Devesh, closing the door as he leaned the guard up against the wall.

“It will take longer for them to notice he’s missing in here.” Devesh’s voice was flat and cold.

Aniri just stared as he dusted off his hands in an entirely unnecessary flourish. Then he planted them on his hips and returned her stare.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was weak.

“Rescuing you, of course.” His voice was still flat, but now she could hear the anger underneath it.

“Dev!” She threw up her hands and looked fretfully at the unconscious guard. How would she ever explain this? “I’m not in need of rescuing.”

Devesh folded his arms and leaned against the nearby washbasin. “Yes, I see you and the prince are getting along quite well.”

“It’s not like that.”

“No?” he asked, a small rueful smile on his face. “You two were pretty convincing.” He took the flower the prince had placed in her hair and tossed it into the washbin.

She balled up her fists. “It’s a ruse, Dev. Just a story, a rumor to help build peace with Jungali. I’m doing my duty.”

“And a fine job of it, too.”

“Dev.” She refused to cry, but the tears were close, so she got angry instead. “If I needed your help, I would have messaged you on the aetheroceiver. But then I couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t some trick. Was it really you on the other end?”

His anger surged up and colored his face. “Of course it was me, Aniri! Didn’t you see my note?”

“Yes, but... how did you know? About my true mission here?” Aniri felt like a small tugboat being tossed in a sea of emotion. “Has it always been just about the politics for you? Did it… did all of it,
all of us,
mean nothing to you? Have you always simply been a spy in the Queen’s court?”

His anger fell off him like a shrugged winter coat. When he came to her, his hands on her shoulders were warm, his deep brown eyes soft. She swallowed, uncertain if she could trust the man she loved, which left a hollow pit in the depths of her stomach.

He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “My feelings for you have always been real, Aniri.” Warmth flooded her heart with his touch and his words, but she didn’t miss his evasion.

“So you are. Always have been. A spy.” The warmth clashed with a cold front that started in her head and worked its way down.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then gave her one of his patronizing looks. “Aniri, my love, you never have paid enough attention to the workings of the court. I am a
courtesan
.”

“I’m not a fool, Dev!” She pushed away from him, but he held fast to her shoulders. She didn’t have the heart to stop him from pulling her back.

“No, you’re not,” he said softly. “But you don’t always see what is right in front of you. What do you think courtesans do, Aniri?”

“Play with the hearts of gullible women at court?”

“Aniri...”

“Pretend at love when you’re only fishing for secret information?” Her anger flared back. “What a noble cause you serve, Devesh, lavishing your soft attentions to deceive.”

He tipped his head back, eyes closed for a moment again, then stared deep into Aniri’s eyes. “Aniri,
all
courtesans are spies. You must know this.” His voice dropped. “It doesn’t mean that we don’t also fall in love.”

She shook her head—it was telling her to flee, but her heart wouldn’t let her rip herself from Devesh’s grasp. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“I know.” He softly touched her cheek again. “But all those times I told you I loved you—it was the truth. I need you to believe that much, if nothing else. And I need you to trust me now. I’m here because I’m afraid for your life.”

“If you want anything from me, you’ll need to explain yourself much better than that. What did you mean by your aether message? How can you be certain the Jungali’s flying weapon doesn’t exist? And how can the marriage possibly trigger a war? That doesn’t even make sense, Dev.”

“I know the flying weapon is a ruse,” he said solemnly, “because I know why the rumors are being circulated. It’s a distraction, a way to keep the eyes of Dharia all focused on the north, on a threat that is as thin as the air up here.”

“A distraction from what?” she asked, but there was some truth to what Devesh was saying, she could feel it. Her mother’s court was tied in knots, chasing vapors of rumors, trying to discern whether the flying weapon even existed. It was something so potentially devastating it could not be ignored, but so ephemeral it threatened like a ghost moaning from the high, dark mountains. It so thoroughly distracted her mother that she sent her Third Daughter on a dangerous mission to find the truth.

Devesh wasn’t answering her question.

“What is the rumor distracting us from?” Aniri asked again, fear forming a cold pool in her stomach.

Devesh looked into her eyes. “Can I trust
you
, Aniri?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I tell you something, I need you not to tell your mother, the Queen.”

“You can’t ask that of me!” Aniri said, pulling back.

“No. You are probably right.” Devesh released her and rubbed the stubble on his face with one hand. He studied her, obviously debating whether he could tell her.

“You said you feared for my life,” she said. It was a challenge.

“You are in grave danger here, Aniri.”

“And you claim to love me.”

He just gave her a hopeless look.

“Then tell me, Dev.”

He turned away from her, pressing a fist to his mouth and staring out the far window of the privy. The afternoon sun shone brightly on a clear blue sky. It seemed to be made darker by the lack of air—the skies were bluer in the mountains than anywhere she had seen before.

So much was different here, a change of perspective, as Prince Malik rightly pointed out. She had never been more uncertain of what was true and who she could trust—even the man she loved, who was staring out the window, contemplating whether
he
could trust
her
enough to tell her the truth.

Her gown and the crown jewels around her neck weighed heavy on her as she waited, wondering whether she should trust anything he might choose to tell her.

When he turned back, Devesh’s face was resolute. “The Samir are planning war, Aniri.”

She leaned away from him, giving him a skeptical look. “On the Jungali?” That didn’t make much sense. She’d seen the Samirian dignitaries at the engagement party. They seemed very comfortable here in the wilds of the Jungalian mountains, very amiably partaking in the festivities.

“No,” he said. “On Dharia.”

“How can Samir be planning war with Dharia?” Aniri’s voice was climbing, but her heart was sinking. Devesh wasn’t telling her the truth after all. “We have been allies for a century. We have bonded through countless marriages. My
sister
is married to the prince heir apparent. This cannot be so, Dev.”

“I didn’t say going to war with Dharia was a grand idea,” Devesh said sarcastically. He folded his arms again and leaned against the washbasin of the privy. “And I’m not the only Samirian who thinks the plans are foolish. Nevertheless, they are real.”

“That makes no sense,” she said, throwing her hands out in exasperation. “We are the breadbasket to the world. We feed Samir—”

“And we provide you with the latest technology.” The sarcasm was still heavy in his voice. “How do you think that feels, Aniri? To be more advanced, more proficient in metalwork and clockwork and all manner of steam-driven wonders, but beholden to a backward-looking Queen because she happens to control the food supply?”

Aniri swallowed. Devesh had never talked like this before. As if Samir and Dharia were truly enemies, not allies. “The Queen would never threaten Samir—”

“She doesn’t
have
to,” Devesh cut her off again. “Short of a full military assault and occupation of Dharia, Samir is at the mercy of whatever terms the Queen would like to set. Do you ever wonder why the Queen is so enamored with tradition? Why she clings to gods like Devkasera as if she’s given your mother a divine right to rule?”

“My mother just… likes the traditional ways.” A tremble started in Aniri’s stomach. She never had given it much thought, and she feared what Devesh would tell her next. His words were taking on more weight of truth the more he spoke.

“Your mother clings to the past because she knows Samir is the future.”

“What do you mean?” But that trickle of fear was turning into a gush.

“Steam-driven technology is the way of the future, Aniri. It is unstoppable. It is only a matter of time before our technology is strong enough to outmatch Dharia’s greater numbers and resources.”

It was true that Dharia had greater size, both in land and army. Most of the world was ocean, and most of the land belonged to Dharia. The Jungali claimed the frozen mountains and seas in the north, and Samir was a small, mountainous country, less than half the size of Dharia, and separated from it by a hundred miles of water. There was a saying about good water making good neighbors, but the Samirian strength had always been its trade boats, the ability to bring manufactured metal goods from the Samirian mountains to Dharia in exchange for the food that kept Samirians well fed.

Devesh was watching her carefully as she thought on his words.

“Just because you have superior technology does not mean we need to be enemies,” she said at last.

“I agree,” Devesh said calmly. “But the Queen has grown lazy with the abundance of her land and the riches that allow her to buy whatever trinkets she wishes from Samir. She doesn’t see the changes roiling through my country, the dissatisfaction with always being second-class citizens in the world. The Jungali understand this better than your Queen. They know what it’s like to be impoverished. And thought of as barbarians. Your mother doesn’t see the real changes coming. She would rather have her teas and play at court in her traditional costumes than see what is right before her.”

Aniri cringed, because at least that part had the ring of truth. And hearing General Garesh’s sneering taunts come from Devesh’s mouth unsettled her even more.

“There are factions within Samir,” Devesh continued, “who believe our technology will finally bring us the stature in the world that we rightfully deserve.”

“The flying machine?”

“No! I told you… that is just a rumor. The Jungali are happy to join us in the deception for a small slice of the future spoils. The threat of a flying machine in the north is there to deflect attention, so the Queen doesn’t notice Samir is bolstering her fleet.”

“But a strengthened trade fleet is no threat,” Aniri argued, hoping he was still wrong about some part of this, even though the sinking feeling in her stomach felt like a Dharian warship on its way to the depths. “Stronger trade strengthens our bonds—”

“They’re not building a
trade
fleet, Aniri.” His voice was patronizing again. “Those trade vessels are very well armed. The Samirian government has quietly been building its reserves, buying time with rumors of flying machines in the north to keep Dharia focused on a common enemy.”

He took hold of her shoulders again, speaking softly. “I am betraying my country by telling you this, Aniri. I wouldn’t do so if it weren’t so dire a situation. If you go through with this marriage, the prince’s reign will be solidified. There will be no threat any longer, whether the Queen believes the ruse of the flying machine or not. With that threat removed, with the distraction gone, the Samirians will move up their plans for attack. And no matter what the prince says, the Jungali are not your friends, my love. They despise the plains people. They have never been allies with Dharia, and they never will.”

“You don’t know that!” All she had been working for with the prince—even if it was half ruse on her part—all of it was to bring peace between Dharia and Jungali. And it was a peace Prince Malik wished for as well. He wanted to honor his dead brother with it, to keep his country from falling into chaos—all of that couldn’t be lies. She’d seen the passion for peace on his face, heard it in his words. And peace was what she was risking everything for. Hearing it was impossible made her want to cover her ears and run from the room. But she knew that was a child’s reaction to something she didn’t want to believe.

“I know much more than you can possibly realize, Aniri.” Devesh’s voice was low and soft now, dangerous. “These rumors did not start on their own. The Jungali hope to get their rewards once the war is finished, once Samir controls all the land and goods of Dharia. If you go through with the marriage, you will be in a literal trap—a prisoner of war. You need to believe me, Aniri, and you need to leave Jungali at once without raising suspicion that you have knowledge of the truth.”