Gate of the Sea: Spirits of Seiran, #3

By D. & L. Kardenal

 

The tide is forever. It churnes. It hungers. And when the waves rise, they scatter men's darkest memories along the shores.

 

With the destruction of their caravan-city, Zaira, Hain, and Salar were left without their mentor. Their only hope lies in the mysterious Secret Rooms dotted around the desert, but to save Nazrik, they must return to a place they never wanted to: the port city of Kahlaran.

But Kahlaran isn't how it was before.

Guided by Sethar, the strongest human magician running from his own guilt, they must find their footing among the streets controlled by soldiers, chasing question not only about saving Nazrik, but  about the whole of djinnkind.

 

Meanwhile, Tamen, now the successor to Kahlaran's throne, strives to prove his worth as a commander. When his fate falls into the hands of Seiran's most dangerous man, Prince Idranil of the Golden Light, he must find the strength and cunning to survive – and decide about the kind of man he wants to be.

Under the scorching Sun, new friendships are forged, and old friends' paths cross again. All must pick a side, before the Gate opens, and the sea floods through, drowning the sands in sorrow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. & L. Kardenal
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223105732

Book preview

D. L. Kardenal

Gate of the Sea

Copyright © 2023 by D. L. Kardenal

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

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Contents

1. The Ember’s Pyre

2. The City of Glass

3. Farewells

4. Through the frontier

5. The battle of Jera

6. Back into the nest

7. The treasurer and the butcher

8. Welcome home

9. The Marids of Kahlaran

10. Catching fire

11. Veril

12. The demon and the priest

13. A hero’s fame

14. Gate of the gods

15. Ember and flame

16. Prison break

17. Siege of the Ancestral Land

18. A pinch of kindness

19. Flight of the Rukh

20. First blood

21. Saboteurs

22. The wrong body

23. All they need

24. King of the harbor

25. For Kahlaran

26. Prisoner exchange

27. The Unshackled

28. Escape route

29. The medical station

30. The Regent Council

31. A bucketful of dates

32. The Spirit in the Lamp

33. Keep a city, end a war

34. Only Kahlaran left

1

The Ember’s Pyre

An Ramash was grieving.

The colorful tents that had become a staple of the city had been replaced by pyres, each sending another victim of Baldra’s rampage to the Divine’s embrace. And there were many. Too many.

The Ramashi spared nothing adorning their departed. Flowers, fabrics, jewels, they had piled them all onto the white linens covering the bodies. The wind caught onto the melancholic music playing in the background, floating above the smoke and incense. This funeral resembled a quiet celebration more than anything else. As expected from the City of Wonders.

Nazrik’s pyre was at the easternmost edge, just where the ruins blended into the land, and the rising Sun touched the world first. This felt proper for an efrit, although we had never talked about his death. Nobody had suspected it could come so suddenly, if at all.

Some Ramashi walked over to his pyre, throwing lanterns and other trinkets they probably bought from him over the years, bowing their heads towards me, giving their condolence before returning to their own grieving.

It’s just a body.

This was my mantra throughout the whole procedure, while we had wrapped Nazrik in linen, set him atop the pyre, and arranged his personal belongings around him. His pipe, the hairbrush he used, the remaining he used for the ornate patterns on his skin – all worthless things which meant everything to him.

It’s just a body, the corpse of someone who died a thousand and thirty-six years ago. Not Nazrik. It was all true, but it wasn’t powerful enough to convince me that we hadn’t just lost a friend. A mentor, a guide, who had been like a father to our strange family. It was Nazrik who had taught me the importance of these rituals, as a way to reconcile with the past and embrace the future.

But talking about it wasn’t the same as living through something so devastating.

I lowered my veil and took a fistful of red powder, scattering it over the white linen. Hain lit a torch and walked up to the pyre. It didn’t take long for the flames to spread, washing over Nazrik’s human body in a shining orange and red.

Sethar stood behind us a few feet away, like he wasn’t sure his presence or his absence would offend us less. He hadn’t known Nazrik, and thus couldn’t comprehend our loss. Why he felt obligated to include himself in the grief was still a mystery to me, as was his whole presence.

My ears caught singing from the distance, so I joined in. It was a familiar tune, one which Nazrik had taught me at Osmi’s funeral, in the same tomb carved into a cliff where I had awoken. Nazrik had no tomb, as far as he had remembered. It was better this way, among the Ramashi, in the place he called home for centuries.

Hain’s lips trembled as if he grappled with words he was reluctant to say aloud, but in the end, he kept silent, watching the fire. There were flashes of blue running through, but these flashes disappeared quickly. Eventually, the song ended, leaving us staring at the pyre for long minutes in silence, until it burned out, leaving only ash and charred wood.

We should leave, I said, turning my back to the pyre.

The others followed me back towards our tent – or rather the place we hoarded the equipment that survived Baldra’s tantrum – and sat down in a circle. It was customary to hold a feast in the departed’s honor, tell stories about their life, but nobody was in the mood for that.

You know this wasn’t goodbye, don’t you? I said to Hain and Salar. We all saw Nazrik’s spirit leave. We’ll figure something out to get him back.

That was the straw we hang onto. Nazrik made quite a scene shedding his human prison and tearing towards the sky. As long as his djinn spirit lived, there was still hope.

Hain shifted uncomfortably. When I was hunting Salar, I spoke to people. Islanders, mercenaries of the Northern Seas, who had seen djinns die. They told me that killing the body unleashes something worse. This world is unfit for free spirits, Zaira. They all morph into malicious demons, as Baldra said.

I know. Nazrik wouldn’t live as a demon, he’d sooner fly into the sea. We’ll figure something out.

I… Seth cleared his throat. I’ve met a marid, without a human body.

We all looked toward him.

You did? I asked. What were they like? A sane, sentient being, or just a… Something… I don’t have the words for it.

Where? Hain asked.

Deep in the Hanit jungle, Sethar said. People there were convinced a lake was cursed, drowning every man trying to cross. Otherwise, it was like any other lake, animals rested along the shores without a hint of fear, but humans… I swear it harbored some deep disdain for us.

How much time does it take? I asked, sounding more desperate. To turn a djinn into a lake.

Seth looked around, trying to bide his time. I’m afraid I can’t answer that. It must have been years, but I didn’t inquire. By the time we arrived, it was barely sentient anymore.

You arrived too late, I said, letting out a sigh. What happened?

Since you’re here, alive and breathing, I wager you killed it, Hain said with a reproachful grimace.

That’s only partially true, Seth said. Chai did. Without her, I wouldn’t be here.

But Nazrik would.

Enough, I said. You know well we can’t change the past.

I laid a hand on Hain’s shoulder, trying to deter his rage. During our time, I’ve learned that this was Hain’s way of handling pain and loss; piling it onto someone and blaming them. But it wasn’t the right way.

Hain kept up his hurt expression for a moment, then looked away.

Seth just smiled. I appreciate those words, miss, but he’s right. Chai was my responsibility, and I failed. Every ounce of rage is deserved.

Hain rolled his eyes. Another regretful soul, how original.

Regret is good, Salar said, breaking his silence for the first time since Nazrik’s funeral started. It has kept us going. It may work for Sethar, too.

Somehow Salar understood us better than anyone, and although it was quite irritating at times, at least someone had the nerve to say the truth.

The kid is right, Hain said. Let’s figure out how to use all this regret for something better than arguing. Whose burden should we deal with first?

That’s better, I said. Nazrik doesn’t have much time, but he can fix basically everything. Maybe he can somehow convince Baldra to stand down.

The bane of my life, the great evil behind Arjun Sikdar wasn’t the monster I always thought of him, at least until he started rampaging through An Ramash. Baldra jumped to save Nazrik without a thought, so there must have been something more in their past. A connection that could douse his rage, too.

I hope he’s listening and smiling ear-to-ear, but you’re right, Hain said. Without Nazrik, we stand no chance, but he can solve almost everything. I won’t let him take his secrets to the grave. We’ll find a way.

Tomorrow, I said. It’s getting late and we’re all exhausted. For tonight, I suggest we try and rest. We can depart tomorrow.

To where? Salar asked. Back into that weird place?

No, unless we want to clash with Chai again.

Chai… Seth mumbled, looking lost in thought. Maybe she can help us.

That witch won’t help anybody, Hain said. Apart from herself.

I agree, but I see another way, Seth said. Chai was convinced Foremagic could somehow resurrect the dead. It’s nonsense for a human, but for a djinn that isn’t quite dead yet, it may just work.

As the realization dawned on me, my eyes opened wide.

She… She wants to resurrect the dead? Hain, she can’t be insane enough to…

I couldn’t finish that sentence, but I was sure Hain understood.

So the unkillable assassins were just her testing the waters, Hain said. She wants to bring Ezair back.

She’s obsessed with that subject, yes. Sethar nodded. It’s a senseless, surreal dream destroying many things as she pursues it, but for once, it may prove useful. Perhaps we can return the Spirit of the Lamp just as Chai made Temitope immortal.

Can you recreate that? I asked. Because Chai won’t help us. She hates me and Hain, and for a reason.

I wouldn’t follow her way anyways, Seth said. Chai’s method is crude and inefficient. It takes a large amount of power and requires machines which now lay broken inside the Secret Room. But I know of another place, one which neither she nor I had seen before. And the builders of that place were familiar with djinns, perhaps too familiar. I won’t promise answers, but it may be our only hope.

Don’t leave us hanging, Hain said. Say it. Where is this place?

Have you heard about the Gate of the Sea?

Of course. Where else could our last resort be.

That’s a nickname for Kahlaran, isn’t it?

Almost, Hain said. It’s a name for the gulf around Kahlaran, but that’s beside the point. So there’s one of these rooms there?

I’m almost certain, Seth said. Somewhere in the city, although I’m not sure where exactly. The Gate… It’s a long story, but I’m convinced the gulf wasn’t named by accident. I think there is a quite real, physical gate hidden somewhere in Kahlaran.

So you’re saying we should return to Kahlaran, risking all three of our lives because there might be a room there, Hain summarized in a cynical tone. A room you never saw. With a Gate you never saw.

Any better plans? I asked.

Why not Shardiz? There’s a room there, I assume.

There is, Seth said. But I spent years studying that, and all I found was a map towards the others. If you wish, I can arrange something, but I doubt there are any secrets left.

Although both had their point, Seth was making more sense. Shardiz was across the whole desert, through marching armies if Prince Sanju was correct, all to search through an already exhausted room for something. Our other option, although much more painful, was closer, and still untouched.

I’ll go. With Sethar. But I can’t ask anyone else to follow me into danger.

Come on, daemon. Who will knock you out should you decide Kahlaran needs another sand-bath? Hain said, taking hold of my hand. I’m not afraid of Kahlaran, or Kherim. He has bigger things to worry about than chasing us.

How about you, Salar?

Salar just shrugged. Right beside the ocean, I dare anyone to try and catch us.

Then that’s decided. We depart tomorrow.

Goals. Plans. We needed something to urge us onward, always moving, because if we ever stopped, I wasn’t sure I could move forward again.

* * *

The chill desert wind managed to sneak under my robe. Without a tent above us, the nights were harsh and cold, but I was certain Hain had been right beside me when I fell asleep, keeping me warm. Now, I was alone. Salar was sleeping a bit further away, resting his head on a sack filled with clothes. Seth just leaned his back against a barrel, although his dream must have been eventful, taken from his occasional painful moans.

I took off to find Hain bare-foot. The sky above was beautiful, an endless black ink spangled with shining dots, and an almost invisible, swirling color around them. A nebula, as Nazrik called it. The twin Moons were just waxing, shining like a pair of sickles. Right beside the shore, my eyes spotted a dim bonfire, and as I approached, I could make out a silhouette sitting beside it.

Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, I said, settling down. You can’t sleep?

It won’t let me, Hain said. Whatever awoke when I touched the heart, it won’t rest for a moment.

It was a strange situation. Hain had always been the human among a family of djinns, but when Nazrik had made him grab the djinn core, everything changed. He summoned fire without any magical trinket. Not like a mejai; like an efrit. I couldn’t understand how it was possible, but deep down I wasn’t scared. Nazrik had known exactly what was doing, and it had been our only saving grace against Chai.

Does it speak?

Not in words. In dreams. Hain gazed into the fire, almost as if he tried to mimic Nazrik’s power of seeing through the flames. In one dream, there’s a flash of light, like an explosion, but different. A flame I’ve never seen before. Then rubble and earth falls down, trapping me without air, leaving me to suffocate. I was always scared of deep places, since I was a boy, but this is something else. I can feel the earth push against my bones, see the sky above through a crack that grows thinner and thinner, then I… I don’t know. Something inside me runs empty. No matter how desperately I try to claw myself out, it never helps.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I had to sit closer to him, just to feel the warmth and softness of his skin.

That must be terrifying. You had these… dreams before?

Many times, but… Hain stopped and shook his head. Nothing. It’s stupid.

No! I put a palm on his check and turned his face towards me. Everything that has happened in the last two days sounds stupid, but they happened. Nothing is stupid anymore.

Hain took my hand and raised it towards his lips, gently kissing my fingers. I know. Thank you.

For a while we just sat quietly, listening to the flames crackling. I wasn’t pushing him, if he needed a few minutes to get a hold of himself, so be it. I knew he would eventually share whatever was on his mind.

I feel like these dreams are… memories, he said. But I can’t tell the difference between them and my own.

I have a wild theory, I said.

Hain expectantly raised an eyebrow. Tell me, then.

What if these are really your memories? From a life when you were one of us. I wasn’t different from a simple human in those first years.

I’d be lying if I told you that never crossed my mind, but… Can a djinn be born?

I shook my head. No, but I’m not sure we can’t grow up somehow. Remember the story you told me about your childhood? When you almost died? If we ignore what’s possible and what isn’t, everything fits. Your tales, your dreams, Nazrik’s last words, and now this fire. Even your temper would make an efrit proud.

Even if that’s true, why don’t I remember being a djinn?

That beats me. But I barely know anything about ourselves, so I think your feelings are more important.

My feelings… Hain’s face warmed up with a smile, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Since when did you become a poet? I hope it’s my influence.

I’m trying, I said, leaning my head against his chest. But this time, I was being specific.

Two days ago, I was sure about my feelings. Now I’m unsure about what I am. Thank the gods we have more pressing matters to worry about.

Well, Nazrik could answer that, too.

Hain’s confession about his unsure feelings hurt me a little, but sadly our relationship was the last item in our growing list of problems. However, he must have noticed me trying to distance myself a bit, because he held me tighter.

Come on, daemon, don’t give me the sour face. It’s not you I’m unsure about.

I leaned close to him, taking in his citrus scent, transforming even this chilly night into a warm summer day among orange trees.

I just don’t know about this djinn thing, he continued I’ve always thought of myself as human, so I have no idea what being a djinn feels like.

In truth, it didn’t matter what he was, even if deep down I wanted him to be like me. This prison had turned into a home while he was nearby, so living forever didn’t sound so bad together.

Sadly, I can’t help with that, I said. I don’t know what being human feels like. But when we save Nazrik, we can corner him and poke holes into his favorite robe until he tells us everything. And I mean everything.

Hain went silent for a while, looking down at my hand.

How’s your wound?

I couldn’t bring myself to look.

I’m sorry, he said, caressing my arm above the bandage. I tried to protect you, but some of Baldra’s flames got past me.

I frowned in confusion before I realized what was happening. Back in our fight, when we achieved the impossible by combining our power, his flames left their mark on my skin, but it seemed Hain hadn’t realized it. And now, I was left with an impossible choice. If I lied to him, and he somehow found out I would have lost his trust forever, but if I didn’t… I took a deep breath and bit the bullet.

You did. Baldra’s flames never reached me.

That’s nice of you, daemon, but facts are… he said, rolling his eyes at first before stopping. Wait. I did this?

When you gave me your power.

Hain looked down onto his own palm bathing in the fire’s light, then shuddered and tried to sit further away, almost as if he could burn me at any moment. That’s what I was afraid of.

No, don’t! You won’t hurt me again.

You said… You’ve told me efrits live under the earth, right? he asked, still a bit shaken. Because they scorch everything on the surface.

That’s the propaganda, trying to justify something horrible.

Being an efrit must be lonely then, he said, closing his fist. I don’t want this power to scare everyone away.

It won’t. Just think about Nazrik.

Marvelous. Another reason for him to perpetually live inside my head. I hope he’s pleased, wherever he is.

By now, I recognized his instinctual irony he used to ease the tension, but this time it wasn’t enough.

He must be. But please, remember that that whole thing was my idea. And I knew about the risk. This tiny burn mark is the least I deserve, doing something so foolish.

This again. We’ve been through this ‘whose fault is it’ cycle for too many times, Zaira. Let’s leave yesterday where it belongs. Tomorrow has enough problems already. Hain sighed, then got up and kissed my forehead. Let’s get to bed. If the kid wakes up before me, I’m going to hear about it for the next decade.

Fine. But if I ever catch you sulking after that monologue, you’ll have a permanent cloud above your head. With heavy rain.

I can imagine worse punishments, he said with a chuckle.

We walked back towards the tent, but taken from the wide awake Sethar, we weren’t alone in our sleepless troubles. But it was fortunate, I’ve been trying to catch him alone for a while now. I’ll talk to him, alright?

Hain glanced at the mejai, then nodded. Just be careful.

I’d rather be kind, I said, walking over to Seth.

Sethar looked troubled, but when he noticed me, his face returned into the calm, distant mask he used when speaking to us.

You know, Hain usually doesn’t care about politeness when he’s angry, I said, sitting down next to Sethar. But he’s also usually right. Mostly.

That sounds like criticism, miss, but I don’t understand it, Seth replied.

I appreciate your help in An Ramash, and that you attended Nazrik’s pyre, but I don’t understand why you would come along. Why not return to Shardiz? To Chai?

Chai was quite upfront about his opinion of me. And that she doesn’t need my help.

But you’re the high mejai of Shardiz. If she doesn’t want you, she should go elsewhere, not you.

It’s not that simple.

More difficult than traveling with three djinns into the enemy capital, chasing legends?

Would you prefer it if I stayed behind?

That’s not what I said. It’s just hard to accept help from someone we don’t understand. A sign of the times. Admit it, wouldn’t you get suspicious if the second highest ranking member of Seiran’s richest and most pompous place just appeared, offering to suffer in the heat, the cold, on a rickety carriage, all just to help someone he has never met?

Saying that I don’t trust him would have made this whole ordeal worse, but even Seth had to admit it was a bit absurd. He took a deep breath and threaded his fingers together, pulling a knee to his chest.

There are things even the second highest ranking member of Shardiz isn’t prepared for, although that title isn’t something that ever felt right. I wasn’t ready to become a father in an instant. But I tried and failed, spectacularly. I’m not ready to face her again, and if I fail once more, the results would be catastrophic. So yes, it’s easier to search for lost legends in the enemy capital with a company of two to three djinns.

And the prince?

Rani… doesn’t like loopholes and tallying. He always faced his problems head-on, and always advised me to do the same. This time, I’d rather avoid his wise words. And his war. So my options are hiding until I feel ready, which I never will, or help someone. Someone whose misery is my doing.

So, we’re an excuse to escape from your life?

You are.

Giving him a lecture about it would have been quite hypocritical from me, so I just let the subject go.

Well, whatever. I did the same when things turned chaotic.

How did that turn out for you, miss?

A few years of peace, that’s all I got. Then Salar turned up, followed by Hain, now Chai. Everything turned upside down. But without those few years, I couldn’t face this storm now.

That’s something. I’d prefer a few years of peace and quiet before the storm.

Then flee while you can, Sethar, I said with a grin. The tales are right about djinns attracting chaos.

Mejais are similar, miss. The world will thank us if we don’t cause two separate calamities.

Perhaps. Try to get some sleep, our journey will be… unpleasant.

I stood up, eyeing Salar so I could catch him for a hearty talk too, but when I approached, he theatrically turned away, pretending to be asleep. But I still remembered what he shouted when Nazrik died. And that conversation was coming for him.

There is no home.

2

The City of Glass

The throne of Nirah wasn’t glamorous, but the intricate steelworks still carried some spectacle. The main theme was a network of flowers and vines, even though Nirah was anything but lush. All they had were dunes of sand, cut in half by a singular river coming from the mountains of Qajar, widening into a funnel before merging with the western sea. Beyond that were nothing but uncharted, dark waters. Many explorers set out, at least Tamen’s tutors had claimed, but none returned. Nothing awaited them beyond the horizon, not land, nor people with whom trade was possible. Just the vast, unforgiving sea.

The throne room was rather crowded, but Tamen could recognize separate groups. On the throne’s right side stood a couple of noblemen, then a group of people wearing the insignia of Nirah’s engineers. Next to them gathered the rather hearty alchemists, and opposite the engineers were the most noticeable, white-clad mejais. They looked odd even excusing their haughty robes: young men and women already white-haired, with almost identical noses and facial features. As if they were copied from one-another.

I’m grateful Prince Kherim offered his help so soon, Princess Priyanka said, after the formal greetings were done. Even with his own problems on the Qajari border.

Naturally, your grace, Tamen said. Prince Kherim protects his allies like his own men, and holds Nirah’s friendship in great honor. May I ask how dire the situation is?

From our scouts’ reports, Idranil’s army is in a day’s march from Jera, the nearest village to the south. Maybe a day and a half, if something halts them.

So things were worse than Tamen imagined. And this woman, soon to be his second mother-in-law, told all that without a hint of fear or pressure, like a talking statue.

We shall do everything to stop the enemy, your grace.

I’m thankful, Priyanka said. A shame our first meeting isn’t more splendid, Heir Tamen. I’m sure we’d have a great conversation. And we shall, after this barbaric threat is disposed of. But your journey must have been arduous. Please, allow me to treat you and your officers in my palace.

As you wish, your grace, he said, bowing in a Kahlarani manner with a hand over his heart. I’m sure my men will appreciate it.

Tamen flashed his eyes towards the four men standing behind him, but quickly looked away before they could express anything. He was tired of their reproachful glimpses.

A servant quickly led him away, into a lavish suite prepared just for guests of his standing. It still lacked any gold, but the colorful glass lanterns, patterned carpets, and a few plants made it comforting. Like a merchant’s tent on a lake shore, perhaps part of An Ramash. He still regrets missing that adventure from years ago.

They had prepared a fruit bowl, a bath, even his own servant, but Tamen wished for nothing but a proper bed and privacy. He wasn’t an officer. He was Kahlaran’s treasurer, still preferring a pen to a sword, and the company of his books to the loud mass of soldiers. Sadly, nearly everyone knew this, but Kherim had still appointed him to lead this regiment bolstering Nirah’s forces.

A prince’s heir should learn to lead.

Tamen had tried his best, even with his officers wishing him back to count coins, when they suspected he couldn’t hear them. But he had, and wished for something similar.

After a brief hour, while Tamen was busy staring out a window with a large glass eye in the middle that magnified the people below, the servant returned. My lord, Heiress Karuna wishes for an audience. Will you accept?

Of course.

He had no illusions about this meeting being inevitable. Karuna had been promised to Salar, and since Tamen now occupied the late Heir’s office, he had inherited his duties as well. Priyanka wouldn’t settle for anyone with a lower standing, and Kherim had always claimed marriage was the strongest bond two provinces could have, so Tamen had another marriage to look forward to. Even though he had been quite uncomfortable during his first.

As the servant pulled the curtains aside, the Heiress walked into Tamen’s room. She was quite resembling her mother, with large, almond-shaped eyes and straight, black hair, partially covered by a red veil. Karuna wore a generous amount of jewelry, mostly gems, and her gaze showed the same intellect that had made Priyanka famous. Behind the Heiress, a veiled chaperon followed, to prevent anything immoral before their official wedding.

Karuna gazed over Tamen from tip to toe, although her face showed nothing. Tamen just raised an eyebrow. He was quite used to being openly examined, but having Kahlarani officers judge his merit, and having a young woman look at him was different. Quite so.

I came to greet you personally, Tamen Aarif, Karuna said. And to inquire if you’d accompany me for a walk through the palace gardens.

Normally, invitations such as this were carried by servants, but Tamen suspected this was the first test. If Karuna would have found something distasteful about him, she wouldn’t have tired herself with something like a walk. But it seemed Tamen had passed.

It would be an honor, Heiress.

Karuna turned around, her chaperon indicating for Tamen to follow. The garden, as it turned out, was barely a short corridor’s distance, and half a level down from Tamen’s suite. The air was heavy with the fumes of flowers blooming in every possible color, around palms giving shade for the peacocks wandering around. It must have cost a fortune to water everything.

My mother adores them, Karuna said as they approached. The peacocks. There are a dozen living in the garden, and she gives their chicks away as gifts. I suspect we will get a few, so Kahlaran wouldn’t be without these birds.

Tamen put his hand behind his back, walking at Karuna’s side. And you?

Am I fond of peacocks?

Yes.

Karuna’s face finally showed some emotions, although it was disbelief, as if Tamen couldn’t have possibly asked something dumber.

I’m not as enthusiastic about them as my mother. They are dumb, although undeniably beautiful.

So what are you enthusiastic about?

I like parrots, if we’re still talking about birds. They are clever and easy to teach, Karuna said, then decided to change the topic entirely. Can you play chess?

That’s a difficult question. I’m familiar with the rules, but I’ve never been a good player.

Shame. But alas, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn. I’m much more enthusiastic about chess than birds.

You’re an interesting character, your grace, Tamen said, smiling down at Karuna, although he couldn’t make her blush. Why chess?

It’s a battle of wits, Karuna said. Study your enemy, prepare for their every move, just like a campaign. I’ve heard Prince Kherim is an exceptional chess player.

I can confirm that, Tamen nodded. He’s willing to make moves I can’t.

Then you have a good teacher, at least. Does your first wife play, if you’re not so fond of the game?

Tamen cleared his throat. He wasn’t expecting the difficult topics so soon, like his marriage to Kherim’s eldest daughter.

Well, she may prove a challenge for you. Must have inherited some of her father’s wits.

Do you love her?

Tamen paused. This woman changed topics like the wind changed directions. She was obviously trying to tip him off balance, and sadly, it worked perfectly. Pardon?

I’m asking if you love your wife.

Indira’s a charming woman. Determined, willful, kind, and much more clever than most noblewomen.

I believe you, Karuna said. But that doesn’t answer my question. You can be honest, I’m just curious about what to expect.

Tamen averted his gaze from Karuna, towards the peacocks instead. I’m… working on it. That’s my honest answer. Love doesn’t appear with a ceremony, but I’m showing her my utmost respect and care nonetheless.

They approached a table set up right on the garden’s edge, with two servants pouring tea into cups. It was an obvious trap Tamen waltzed right into, so he couldn’t leave before answering Karuna’s questions.

Does she love you? Karuna asked, sitting down. I suspect my life will be much easier if we’re on good terms. But if she’s in love with you, her contempt is inevitable.

Karuna’s voice carried a hint of sadness, which was the first emotion apart from looking down on Tamen’s lack of chess-prowess. He couldn’t answer her, because he never had asked how Indira felt about marrying him. Somehow Tamen just knew no answer would satisfy him, so he avoided that conversation. Just like he would have preferred to avoid this one, but Karuna didn’t leave him a choice.

Is there a problem, your grace? he asked instead.

Well, as a good wife, I should say no.

And what would you say if you’re being honest?

Karuna smiled for the first time, but it was more sadness than joy. Then I’d tell the truth. I have many problems with this whole charade, although it doesn’t start with you. It starts with my little brother.

Your brother?

I was preparing to follow my mother on the throne since I was born, then my brother arrived. The youngest of four children, the only boy, and thus the next prince.

Tamen’s forehead creased. I thought Nirah allowed women to take the throne.

Occasionally, yes. If the current ruler has no sons, nor nephews. And even that sounds heretical to other provinces.

But you’re called Heiress.

It’s just a title. An honorary stamp so I wouldn’t get offended, but the real heir isn’t me. I hope you understand that being the second wife of Kahlaran’s treasurer is a downgrade after a life of preparing to rule. Even with the promise that you’ll be a prince one day.

Are you aware Kahlaran is Seiran’s second richest province, your grace?

I am. But still, I’m now honor-bound to serve someone.

This isn’t unlike a chess game, your grace, Tamen said. Royals marry strategically, from the dawn of time, and it won’t change anytime soon. Your mother had to choose one child to succeed her, and the rest for marriage. It was only logical.

You’re mistaken. It may seem that her reign is accepted, but our nobles sighed in relief when she had a son. So order could return, without leeway. My fate was sealed with my brother’s birth, there wasn’t any choice involved. Karuna took a sip from her tea, probably to repress her growing annoyance to where it arose from. I’m not fond of idle complaints, though. I invited you to our garden so I could figure out how to maximize my situation by your side.

As Tamen figured, this was a trap. A devious one at that. This honorary heiress was ruthless and formidable as court intrigue went.

I can understand, your grace, Tamen said. "For my whole life, I was prepared to support the prince of Kahlaran. Remember what he wouldn’t. Prepare what he needs. I never imagined I would become the prince on a distant day. An upgrade is just as confusing as a downgrade, Heiress,