The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(49)

I huffed out a breath, and it tasted of bitterness. “Yes, he leaves me alone because to him I am broken.”

“But mending a little,” Bayan said.

I looked at him – with his black, shining eyes, his full lips, his angular jaw – and wondered if I could ever trust him. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. It wasn’t blank, but it didn’t divulge its secrets either. I didn’t really know Bayan, except as a rival. Almost as soon as I’d recovered from my illness, even as I searched my mind for some memories of my prior life, he’d been there – a constant threat. Father had made it clear from the very beginning what I was up against. “Do you want to be Emperor?”

“Of course I do,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because if you’re made Emperor, then what happens to me? Will you be content to have another person living in this palace who knows all your secret magic? Your family has always guarded the bone shard magic zealously. And now your father fosters me, teaches me everything he knows. I’m not a fool. I know what happens to me. I’m a liability if left alive.”

He was right, though the thought of ordering Bayan’s death made me ill. There had to be another way. “Is that the only reason?”

He leaned against the trunk of the cloud juniper. He looked as tired as my father did, and Bayan a fraction of his age. “What does it matter? I do this to survive. You too do this to survive. And now look. We both have seven keys.”

“We are rivals.”

“Yes. And here, that’s the only thing that matters.” He swept away from me, back down the steps so quickly I could not follow.

The sun slipped below the horizon, casting everything in a wan, blue light. And I was alone in the darkening courtyard, the wind rattling through the cloud juniper branches.





19





Phalue


Nephilanu Island

Phalue lifted the mug to her lips and pretended to drink. Her father, at the head of the table, cast her an approving glance, and she did her best not to roll her eyes. “You should try to relax sometimes,” he’d said to her more than once. Other than his broad shoulders and his height, she wasn’t sure what she’d inherited from him. He sat upon his cushion with indolent gracelessness, his black hair tied back, his lanky limbs hidden behind various brocaded fabrics. Phalue hated brocade. It was hot, itchy, and heavy. She preferred her clothes simple and functional. Phalue liked to spar; her father abhorred physical exertion. She enjoyed walking in the city, among its citizens. He remained in his palace like a turtle inside his shell.

And Ranami had the nerve to tell Phalue she didn’t know enough outside her sphere? She knew plenty. Her mother was a commoner. Yes, her mother’s house was quite a bit nicer than Ranami’s tiny abode, and she had more money after marrying a governor – but she’d grown up with two brothers all squeezed into the same room. Her mother had known hardship. And Phalue often spent time with the people of the city. She’d tempted more than one to her bed, back before she’d met Ranami. What didn’t she know about the people her father ruled over? Why did Ranami keep insisting that she didn’t understand? Was this a contest – who had suffered more? And if she lost such a contest, was it even her fault?

When her mother had been governor’s wife, she’d convinced her father to lower the quotas. And he had seen, with his very own eyes, one of the farmers lazing about, his trees untrimmed. What did Ranami propose to do about that? Steal caro nuts for the farmers, apparently.

“Dearest, you’re scowling again,” her father said. A pretty young woman leaned into his side, her hand resting in the crook of his arm. Phalue couldn’t remember her name. Taila? Shiran? She supposed she had that in common with her father: a love of beautiful women. But Ranami was more than just beautiful.

Again, that rising tide of love mingled with a wave of frustration. Phalue smoothed her expression. “I was just thinking about the caro nut shipment.”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Is my gallivanting daughter suddenly interested in trade and bureaucracy?”

“Are you?”

He gave a shrug. “I wouldn’t say I’m interested, but it’s a responsibility of my position.”

“Nephilanu is migrating into the wet season. What if we surprised the farmers this year? Don’t lower the quotas until after the harvest is complete, but once it is, let everyone who’s met the lower quota have their share of caro nuts. They are more likely to suffer the bog sickness working in the fields than any of the nobility at the heart of the Empire.”

Her father set down his mug. “You’ve an overly soft heart, Phalue. You’ll need to work on that before you take over the governorship.

“I’ve given them that land, and they need to repay me somehow. It’s a fair bargain. The trees don’t take up all of the land, and they can grow crops on the rest. I didn’t force them to it; they took the bargain of their own volition. Any failure is laziness on their parts.” He shook his head and took another drink. “You sound like one of the Shardless. Save your pity for the unfortunate without choices.”

It was the same argument she’d parroted to Ranami. Phalue frowned. But she wasn’t sure if she’d describe the farmers as lazy, despite her father’s convictions.