The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(109)

The construct’s shadow moved as it stretched up on its hind legs. A scratching, then a pause. “No.”

“Can you bring another construct here? I have more nuts.” I held my breath. My father could have ordered the constructs away from my room; he could have ordered them not to help me, but he’d never shown any construct consideration beyond issuing commands. To him, they had no free will at all.

But Hao had proven differently.

The construct didn’t respond; it scurried away. I leaned my forehead against the shutters, setting the nuts in a row on the windowsill.

Did my father think I had no free will either? He’d made me. Perhaps to him, I was just like a construct. He could put me in a room and expect I’d stay there.

“Back.” Hao’s nose nudged at the shutters. Another, larger shadow was next to it. I caught a glimpse of brown fur and black, shiny eyes through the slats in the shutters.

“Hello,” I said to the other construct. “Do you want a nut?” I held one just out of reach. Its little claws scrabbled at the wood, its whiskers twitching as it sniffed. “All you have to do is help Hao here lift the bar on the shutters.”

The creature sat back on its haunches.

But I’d done this before. “What harm can it do? You’ve not been commanded to leave the bar alone. Just this one task and I’ll give you five nuts. That’s a bargain, don’t you think?”

It didn’t move toward the bar, but it didn’t run away either.

“Six nuts?”

One more nut was all it took to tip the scales in my favor. Both constructs reached for the bar. The wood squeaked as they pushed it out of place, the shutters pushing inward briefly.

And then the bar was free and I opened the shutters. The cool, damp air had never felt so good against my face. My little spy construct leapt inside. I counted out six nuts for the other construct and watched as it stuffed them into its cheeks. There was power beyond that carved out by commands. Shiyen might have created me, but he didn’t know me.

I gathered my things, half-formed plans running through my head. I couldn’t take my father on alone. Even unlocking his doors I’d needed help. He had too many constructs – watching, guarding the walls, awaiting his orders. My father might not have truly known me, but I knew him. He’d had no doubt he could keep me in my room. He wouldn’t have moved right away to fix Mauga and Uphilia; they still worked after all, and he had Ilith to repair. And me. His broken wife. If I was right about him, I still had Mauga and Uphilia. I had my little spy. I tucked the engraving tool into my sash pocket. They wouldn’t be enough. But there was someone else who might help me.

I started to second-guess my plan when I was clinging to the roof tiles, a light drizzle beading on my eyelashes. Ahead of me, the spy construct sprang to the peak of the roof as though it were merely out for an afternoon stroll. I’d sent Hao through the halls of the palace, but there were simply too many servants and constructs this time of day to make my journey safely. Not that this was any safer.

When at last I slid off the roof and onto a balcony, my arms were ready to give way. This was the right room. I just had to hope he was here.

I rapped on the door lightly. It swung open.

Bayan’s handsome face greeted me. Although, by his sour expression, “greeted” was a stretch of the word. “What are you doing here? Are you here to rifle through my things again?” He wrinkled his nose and glanced up. “Did you climb here?”

“No, idiot, I flew.” I pushed past him into his room. Did I have to rebuild that fragile foundation we’d begun to form together?

He stared at me for a moment, but then closed the door.

“What do you remember?” I asked him.

“More than you.”

I clenched my fists in frustration. “No. You don’t get to do that. Not right now. I just spent the whole morning convincing constructs to act against their nature, and trying to figure out what it is the Emperor has done to me.”

“You . . . what?”

“Do you remember the library? The Emperor striking you in the dining hall? The cloud juniper?”

His face, which had been a mask of contempt, crumpled. “Yes.”

I closed my eyes, relief making me weak. I sank onto a nearby chair. “And after that?” The agony on his face told me all I needed to know. “You can tell me,” I said, my voice low and soft. “We’re not enemies, I promise.”

He gave me a hopeless look. “There’s a gap. I don’t know what happened that night. I thought – maybe the sickness is coming back. Maybe I never really beat it.”

“It’s not the sickness. It never was.” I couldn’t think of how else to explain it to him, so I rose to my feet. I put a hand to his chest and felt his heartbeat below my palm, rapid and strong. “Try to relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” Slowly, I pushed my fingers inside.

He went still, but by the way his panicked eyes held mine, I knew he could push past the stillness if he really tried. “How are you doing this?” He choked out the words.

I stepped away, hands held up, palms toward him. “Because we weren’t born, Bayan. We were made. He made us. The night you don’t remember? I found you in my room.” The skin peeling away from his eyes, the sagging, lumpy flesh. “You were falling apart. He’d tried to change something in you, but he’d done it wrong.”