The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(110)

“What’s wrong with you? That’s madness. A person can’t fall apart.” Despite his words, his face was still pale.

“A construct can.”

He scoffed. “I’m not a construct.” But he didn’t sound sure when he said it. He waited for me to say something else. When I didn’t, he waved a dismissive hand at me. “And what? You’re a construct too?”

I met his gaze and held it. “He said he grew me. I don’t know what that means.”

He peered into my face. “You’re serious.”

“Why would I lie about something like that? You told me he was growing people, that night you came to my room for help. You think I want to be something he’s made? The Emperor wants me to replace his dead wife. He made me for that purpose. If I wanted to lie, I’d come up with a better lie, one I’d actually want to be true. Like my father named me his one true heir only a moment ago. I’ve come climbing over the rooftops to tell you.” Perhaps it was a trifle sharper than I’d intended, but there simply wasn’t time.

“If you’re so clever, why’d he make me?”

I threw up my hands. “That’s your business, not mine. Don’t you have any clues? Has he said anything to you?”

Bayan stared at me, and I could see the panic lurking in his widened eyes, the tremor at the corner of his lips. “Only that I could be the heir if I tried hard enough. That I might one day replace him.”

More pieces clicked together in my mind. “No,” I said. “That’s terrible.” But I’d thought him and Bayan so alike. And now I could see the similarities in their faces – the high cheekbones, full lips, large, dark eyes. Oh, he had meant what he’d said. A replacement.

He bristled. “My ruling as Emperor would be terrible? For you, perhaps.”

He didn’t remember. “Bayan, he has a machine. It puts memories into your head. It must have worked better for you than for me. But he didn’t give you his own memories, not yet. He gave you someone else’s. He doesn’t want you to rule as Emperor. He wants to rule as Emperor, for ever, in the body he’s made for this purpose.”

Bayan whirled away from me, pacing the length of his room and then back. “This is a trick meant to distract me from my goals.”

I stuffed down my own panic. I had to convince him. “If I was trying to trick you, don’t you think I would tell you something a little more believable? Think about the gaps in your memories. You know I’m telling the truth.”

He collapsed onto his bed, his shoulders slumped, his fingers pressed to his temples.

Shiyen would have pressed harder, would have demanded that Bayan face the truth. But I wasn’t the Emperor. “I laid in bed, useless, after I figured it out,” I said softly. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, more than I asked of myself.”

I watched him breathe, the rest of him unmoving, hoping he wouldn’t turn against me. And then he glanced at me from beneath the curtain of his hair, giving me a weak smile. “But how high a standard is that really?” To his credit, he straightened – absorbing the information and standing against it. “What do we do to stop him?”

I wanted to weep with relief. I wouldn’t do this alone. “I’ve taken two of his constructs. I think we can take the last two if we work together.”

My spy construct sat on the bed next to me, alert, awaiting my instructions. I’d not told it to wait there. A made thing could grow and change beyond its original purposes.

I would show the Emperor: I’d grown beyond mine.





41





Jovis


Nephilanu Island

I knelt and packed my things in the room the rebels had assigned to me, heedless of any questioning looks. I had to get out of here. I had to get to Maila. Emahla might be there even now, looking out over the horizon, waiting for me to come for her. What would I tell her? That I’d given up for a time? That I’d fallen in with the Ioph Carn? There was nothing I could do to make it up for her except to rescue her.

Mephi pushed his head beneath my hand. “Calm, Jovis. I am here.”

Without even thinking, I stroked his head, moving my fingers to scratch behind his ears. His words were clearer than they’d been before he’d fallen ill. My fingers stilled. The shiny nubs on his skull had been replaced with two budding horns. Only now did I notice that Mephi had not come out of his illness unchanged. He was taller, his face and legs longer. His tail had become bushier, the webbing between his digits more distinct.

I swiveled on the balls of my feet. “What happened to you? What made you sick?”

He shook his head. “Not sick. Just changing. It makes you tired. Very tired.” His head drooped. “Couldn’t help you. Sorry.”

Changing. I stroked Mephi’s cheek. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve helped me more than enough.” My fingers shook. I snatched back my hand.

“Jovis all right?”

Of course I wasn’t all right. I couldn’t ever be all right. I’d spent too long not getting to Emahla, running about, acting the part of the hero. I wasn’t a hero.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t. She was waiting for me.

“No,” I said. My eyes itched; heat gathered behind them. “I’m not all right. We need to leave.”