The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(117)

“Jovis.” Mephi trotted beside me. “Need me to—?”

“Hush.” I patted his head to soften the blow, and glanced around at the people in the streets. He took my meaning and kept his tongue behind his teeth. “We should hurry. Stay with me.”

I broke into a jog to keep up, my legs still unsteady from the sea. The earth felt like it rolled beneath me, disorienting me with every step. As soon as I began to run, the figure did too. Of all the things in the world and in the depths of the Endless Sea – of course this wouldn’t be easy even when I was so close. I gritted my teeth. I’d had to scrounge and scrape for every clue I’d found; why would this be any different?

The palace walls loomed ahead, the paint and plaster chipped in places, revealing the stone beneath. The red gates were closed and took more than one person to open. Beyond, I could see green-tiled rooftops. If I could back this person against the palace walls, if I could send Mephi to cut them off on the other side . . .

Before I could give Mephi the command, the figure crouched at the base of the palace walls, and leapt. Hands clutched at the top of the wall, and then another pair of hands joined the first pair, propelling the cloaked figure over the ramparts.

I skidded to a halt, breathless. Two pairs of hands. This wasn’t a person. It was a construct. Ranami had been right. My answers lay here, in the very heart of the Empire. All constructs were under the command of the Emperor. Whatever had happened to Emahla, it had started with him.

I knelt at the base of the wall, the sound of my breathing filling the hood of my coat, rasping and harsh. What could I do against an Empire? It had been a hopeless task from the beginning.

Mephi’s face appeared in front of me. He peered into my hood. “We go over?” he said, his voice quiet.

I looked at him and then the wall. The places with the stone exposed provided some handholds. My bones began to thrum. I had the strength to make it over. “Get on my back and hold on,” I told Mephi. I grunted as he clutched at me, but I could bear his weight. I strapped my staff to my back and began to climb.

The ramparts, when we arrived, were eerily silent. No one stood there. The governor’s palace at Nephilanu had been a fortress in comparison. I scanned the palace grounds. Empty except for one figure, cloaked in gray. With the magic humming in my veins, I could catch them. I hesitated. Something here felt wrong. The place didn’t just feel run-down; it felt abandoned. What had the Emperor been doing when he’d been holed up behind his walls? Outside them, his constructs ran the world. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken of the Emperor even venturing into Imperial City, much less beyond. Or, for that matter, anyone being invited into the palace. When I’d been younger, things had been different. Envoys went to Imperial regularly and were sent away awed by what they’d seen – an Emperor and his wife, both at the height of their power. He had an heir, I knew, but no one had much to say about her.

I climbed halfway down the walls and let go. A little of the magic leaked out as I landed, sending a tremor through the earth and shaking the walls. When I turned to look for the gray-cloaked figure again, they were running toward the main palace building.

Not this time.

Mephi clambered from my shoulders, and I put all my strength into running. Each step I took was a bound, the broken cobblestones of the courtyard passing in a blur beneath me. Mephi ran beside me, ears flattened to his skull. We passed empty buildings, halls that hadn’t been used in years. Ahead, the figure tried in vain to outrun us.

At the palace steps, I caught the edge of their cloak.

The construct whirled as the cloak fell away. Rough gray cloth wrapped around the creature’s limbs and body. Four spindly arms snapped out, looking like nothing so much as the giant jaws of some insect ready to attack. The legs were too long, as was the face. The pale skin there had been stitched together without care or concern for how it might look. Dark eyes sat too high on the construct’s face; a large, thin-lipped mouth with pointed teeth seemed to take up the entire lower half.

But I was too angry for fear to seize hold of my heart. “What did you do with her?”

“Who?” The construct’s voice rasped like sandpaper. It backed up another step toward the doors.

“You took her from the only life she ever wanted. She had plans. She had things she wanted to do. You took that all away from her. You took it all away from me.” Words spilled out of me, words I’d not had an outlet for. I vomited them forth. “Seven years ago. Anau Isle. You left nineteen coins on her bedspread.”

“Fair price paid,” the construct said. “The Emperor is not unfair.” It took another step back.

Mephi growled and slipped away from me. He padded up the steps and cut off the construct’s escape.

I drew the steel staff from my back. “Tell me what happened to her.”

The construct tilted its head as though calculating figures. It looked at me. “No.”

The thrumming in my bones exploded into my body, sending heat and fire through my veins. I leapt forward. The construct met me, its four hands moving quicker than any person’s. Before I could even land a blow, it had pulled four knives from somewhere on its person. They flashed like lightning against the cloudy sky. It blocked my staff with two knives, the other two snaking toward my torso.

Mephi seized the construct by the calf, sinking his teeth into its flesh. It howled, and I used its brief distraction to spin my staff and strike it hard on one wrist. The hand opened, sending the blade skittering down the steps. Three blades left. Three blades too many.