Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) (5 page)

“I’m at your service, your majesty.” The bitterness in her voice was unavoidable, but she stood as tall as her heavily embroidered dress, weighted with the obligations of royalty, would allow.

Her mother frowned, seemed tempted to say something, but held it back. Janak wore his usual impassive look—apparently his smiles were reserved for mocking her in private. The Queen nodded to Janak, and he motioned to a doorman at the anteroom where the Queen usually prepared for tea. The doorman disappeared, ostensibly in search of the prince. That her mother would allow the barbarian to use her private chambers disturbed Aniri.

“Have you already given him visiting privileges?” Aniri asked in a low voice.

“I’m simply treating him with the respect due a sovereign of a potential ally.”

“In your personal antechambers?” Aniri asked. “Are you certain the artwork is secure?”

“Aniri.” Her mother’s voice had gone cold, but Aniri already knew she had stepped over the limit of her mother’s tolerance. “I expect you to—” She stopped when the door swung open, and the prince strode in. He was young, just as her mother had taken pains to note, as if that somehow would make a difference.

He crossed the floor with long purposeful strides. His finely tailored jacket and pants were current with the latest fashion befitting a nobleman in Dharian court: high-collared, deep navy silk, trimmed with twisted gold embroidery and reaching to his knees. Only he seemed awkward in the jacket, as if the silk chafed across his back. Or perhaps Aniri imagined his discomfort, the barbarian tales draped on him like an invisible cloak that he labored under. Then again, maybe he was trying to conceal a club.

She steeled herself against the urge to smile at his expense.

When the prince stepped from the shadowed back of the room and took in Aniri’s face, he frowned and seemed momentarily disappointed in her. It stuck her as incredibly irritating. What did this barbarian have to be disappointed about? The question nearly leaped from her lips, but then the look was gone. Perhaps she had imagined it. In any event, he was now the picture of courtly dispassion, staring at her with strangely pale amber eyes. Did all that time in the harsh northern sun bleach the color from barbarian eyes?

The prince stopped at a respectable distance, in accordance with the most formal traditions. Only then did Aniri notice his servant, a massive man, stepping clear of the shadows. Janak, still in his royal uniform from his duties at tea, subtly angled his body between the prince’s giant guard and the Queen.

The prince’s servant merely stood taller and announced, “Prince Malik, of the Jungali Coalition of Provinces.”

The prince pressed his hands together, held before his face in a position of high respect, then solemnly tipped his head forward to the Queen. “I bow to the great land of Dharia.” Aniri hadn’t heard the traditional greeting in a long time. She couldn’t decide if he was quoting some kind of handbook on Dharian customs or if he had been coached to use the highest formality as a way to supplicate to the Queen.

Regardless, her mother seemed quite taken by it. She brought her hands together, touched them to her lips briefly, then spread her hands wide. “You are most welcome in our land,” she said, the traditional response.

“Arama, your majesty,” the prince said, bowing again and relaxing the formality. “You are most kind for receiving me with such unforgiveable shortness of notice. If it weren’t for the urgency of my business with her majesty’s royal court, I would have made proper entreaties for my arrival.”

“We’re honored to have you for our guest,” the Queen said. “And your business is of great interest to the court.” She smiled broadly. “May I present my daughter, Princess Aniri.”

The prince turned to her, his amber eyes as cold as the frozen Jungali seas. He bowed, hands clasped, but did not repeat the greeting, not even the more informal
arama
, used by everyone, commoners and royalty alike. Aniri wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or not. She clasped her hands and bowed in return, although she may have done it too quickly. Her mother’s keen look flashed disapproval.

“Well, I expect that you have much to discuss,” her mother said to the prince. Aniri shot her a look, but she was focused on the barbarian. “Please inform Aniri’s guard if you have need of anything, Prince Malik.”

Aniri frowned. Was the Queen leaving? The prince had yet to make his formal request—what purpose could it serve for the Queen to leave before that happened? Before Aniri could form a question, her mother swept toward her antechamber, the jewels on her dress winking from the shadowed recesses. The prince, for his part, didn’t seem surprised at all by the Queen’s sudden departure.

Aniri glared at Janak, but she couldn’t catch his attention. Instead, he coolly eyed the prince as he approached her.

“Princess Aniri,” Prince Malik said, “is there somewhere we can speak in private?”

Aniri blinked. “In private?” According to custom, they wouldn’t meet in private until
after
the arrangement had been negotiated. And she hadn’t agreed to anything yet. She glanced at Janak, suddenly uneasy he might whisk away like her mother. “Whatever you have to say, Prince Malik, you can speak it in front of my personal guard.” She hoped Janak understood her meaning—that he dare not leave her alone.

Malik stepped closer. A panicky feeling fluttered her heart, but he merely dropped his voice so Janak would have to strain to overhear. “Princess, it is your privacy, not mine, I wish to protect. Perhaps we could…” He glanced about the Queen’s tea room. “…find a more open place to discuss our business.” His gaze alit on the windows streaming the golden haze of summer into the room. “Maybe the garden?”

The prince should not insist on speaking to her privately. Negotiations were always done with representatives of both courts present, given the arrangement was as much a joining of governments as a marriage. Was this a barbarian custom? It was odd and presumptuous.

And… intriguing. “The garden should afford a measure of privacy.” Her silk skirts swished as she strode toward the side door to the garden. The prince was close at her heels, with his guard following at a distance. She glanced back to make sure Janak was following them. His impassive expression was holding back a scowl.

The Queen’s garden was a maze of stepped reddish-pink sandstone, the same stone used to build most of the capital city. Sunlight draped heavy and bright on the plants and flowers in full bloom. The scent was pervasive, like a bath of flower petals had been crushed and thrown into a fine mist in the air. The garden held enough winding paths and tucked corners to hide a hundred feverish meetings of lovers. She had first kissed Devesh here, and it felt wrongly intimate to have Prince Malik by her side now. Janak continued to trail behind them, but he was holding close to the prince’s overly large servant.

Aniri’s silk slippers whispered next to the hard tempo of the prince’s heeled boots. After a moment of pretending to inspect the garden as they walked, the prince spoke. “Your beauty truly outshines this astonishing garden, Princess. The rumors do not do you justice.”

“Do you expect to flatter me into accepting your marriage proposal?” She kept her voice as cool as she could manage. “If you knew anything about Dharia,”
or me
, she thought, “you would have known better.”

He looked amused, but not insulted. “Is it bad manners in Dharia to tell a woman she is beautiful? If so, I’m a barbarian through and through.”

She fought back a smile and ran a glance over him. “You don’t look the barbarian part, Prince Malik.”

“I try to keep up on Dharian fashion. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“Is it truly?” She turned to stare at him.

“No.”

A laugh threatened to erupt out of her, but she managed to keep it in, amazed more at herself than the prince’s attempts to charm her. “That’s a good thing. I would hate to be the one to tell you how you’ve failed utterly to capture the latest nobleman’s fashion sense at court.” It wasn’t true, but he certainly needed more practice filling out the clothes.

He fell quiet and studied the white granite pavers in front of their measured steps. “Princess Aniri...” He tilted his head towards her and lowered his voice. “You are a beautiful and powerful woman in the richest country in our world. I come from the poorest one, seeking your hand in an arranged marriage you surely do not desire. I understand this, and yet I’m here to personally entreat you to consider my proposal that we might have peace in our lands.”

You say no
. Her sister’s words pressed on her, and every fiber of Aniri’s being wanted to say just that. But her refusal might bring war. Which wouldn’t be only a few barbarians with clubs if this new flying weapon was more than a rumor. “Of course, Dharia wishes for peace with Jungali,” she said carefully.

“And Jungali wishes for peace as well,” Prince Malik replied.

Aniri wasn’t so sure. The prince stopped her with a light touch on her elbow. He was tall and not unhandsome, except for the coldness of those eyes peering earnestly at her.

“I may not follow the fashions of your great country, but I have studied its customs. I know you are the Third Daughter and your birthday draws near. The Queen has informed me the decision rests in your hands. I would give my life to bring peace to Jungali, to end the fighting between our clans as well as the border skirmishes with Dharia. They take too many lives each year. My brother was lost in such a clash at a border station. It wasn’t long after that our mother, the Queen, succumbed to a chill the warmth of summer couldn’t banish. She was always most fond of him, being the youngest.”

Aniri couldn’t help but feel the pain that radiated from him. “I’m sorry for your loss. And I don’t want to seem... unkind. But if you wish to stop the border skirmishes, you only have to stopping making incursions into Dharian territory. Dharia never would cross the border—”

“It’s not that simple.” The prince gave her a sad smile. “I don’t know which province is behind the most recent incursion. I will make every effort to find out, but it was likely marauders acting alone, in which case… their clan will likely protect them. During my mother’s reign, she won the loyalty of all the provinces—she brokered trade agreements, and with peace between the provinces, the raids lessened. When she died, that bond was shattered. I have enforced peace, for the moment, but the clans are restless and the raids have started again… I fear we’re falling back into the ways of the past.”

Aniri narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand. How would an arranged marriage with the Third Daughter of Dharia help keep your people from…” She didn’t want to call him a barbarian to his face, especially when he seemed to be striving so nobly for peace.

“From falling back into barbarism and anarchy?” His smile was grim as he gestured to the palace walls surrounding them. “It must be hard to see, here in your beautiful palace and lush gardens, but you are fortunate to have a united people under a strong ruler like your mother. Jungali needs a Queen. A brand new alliance with the powerful country of Dharia would cement the tentative hold I have on the crown. This arrangement would bring peace to my country, and I wish for that even more than I wish for peace with Dharia.”

“Surely there is another way to ensure peace between our countries.” Aniri searched the pavers at her feet, as if she could find the proper words there. “A trade agreement or treaty, perhaps. This marriage would just be—”

“Princess Aniri.” His lowered tone drew her gaze back up to him. “I am sure you have someone you would far prefer to marry. I had always hoped my Queen would be someone I loved as well. But I’m willing to forgo marrying for love in service to my country. I’m hoping you will be willing to make a similar sacrifice for yours. This arrangement will save lives and bring peace to both our countries.”

Aniri looked away from his intense stare. “I fear that you may be more noble than I am, Prince Malik.”

He took her hand, and she nearly jerked back, surprised he would touch her. But he had the desperate look of a man who believes he is about to lose everything.

“There will be no children,” he whispered, his fingers warm and gentle. “Ours would not be that kind of marriage. I’m sure you already have a lover. You may keep him. I will even raise any children that come from your love union with all the rights of royalty in my land. All I ask is that you be discrete, that you help me maintain the fiction of our marriage, so it will bond our countries together and keep us from war.”

Then he shocked her further by bending down on one knee, still holding her hand carefully in his. “I beg of you, Princess Aniri. Whatever demands you have, I will meet them. Please accept my proposal of marriage and help me to save lives in both our countries.”

Heat rose in her face. “I…” She paused, desperately wanting to say no, but with the prince at her feet, clearly willing to do whatever it took to convince her, the shame of shirking her duty burned in her chest. “That is…” The words were choking her. “That’s… the most noble thing I have heard in some time, Prince Malik. Please... please stand.” She took his hand in her two and urged him up from the ground. “I will consider your proposal and give you my answer in the morning.”

Prince Malik closed his eyes briefly, and Aniri could see the defeat on his face, as if she had already given her answer. But the truth was she had never been more uncertain. She hadn’t expected him to move her. She hadn’t expected him to be noble. It dragged on her even more than the embroidered silk that weighed her down like an iron casket meant to take her to the ocean floor.

He quickly opened his eyes, dropped her hand, pressed his two together. “I will await word from you then. Arama, Princess Aniri.”

He bowed quickly, turned, and strode from the Queen’s tea garden, leaving her alone with her uncertain heart and Janak’s cool stare from the far side of the garden.