The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(68)

They could do it without Phalue, but it would be a fair bit harder. Her gaze focused beyond Phalue, to the road. Five of the governor’s soldiers marched toward them. Ranami clutched at Phalue’s jerkin. She’d stolen four boxes of caro nuts for the farmers. “They’re here for me,” Ranami gasped out. “They’re coming.”

Phalue’s hand went immediately to the sword at her belt.

“Sai,” one of the soldiers called.

A cold cell, damp as the gutters she’d slept in as a child. No light, no fresh air, grasping at scraps of food. “Please don’t let them put me in a cell. I can’t go to a place like that.” Her fingers curled in Phalue’s shirt; she couldn’t have let go if she’d tried. The panic that writhed inside her was an animal thing, wide-eyed and kicking, a mouse in the claws of a cat. “Don’t let them take me.”

Phalue used her free hand to gently disentangle Ranami’s fingers. “Don’t worry.” Her voice soothed. “You’re not going anywhere except back home.” She turned to face the approaching men. “Tythus,” Phalue said to the guard at their head as they halted in front of her. “Does my father need something?”

Ranami had a vague memory of meeting the young man at some point. He’d been smiling then though.

“Unfortunately he does,” Tythus said. He looked uncomfortable, as though he were about to tell a struggling cart driver that his last ox had died. “He heard of your trip to one of the caro nut farms. Four boxes of nuts went missing.”

Ranami couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Phalue would defend her, but at what cost?

“Your father has sent me to bring you in.”

You. He was looking at Phalue.

For a moment, Ranami couldn’t process the words. She should have felt relieved that it wasn’t her. But Phalue? She didn’t dare grab on to Phalue again, but she needed something to steady herself.

Phalue’s shoulders tightened. “He thinks I’ve stolen boxes of caro nuts? Don’t be ridiculous, Tythus.”

Tythus’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He hesitated before gripping the hilt of his sword. “It’s your father’s order. He wasn’t in a good mood.”

For a moment, they just stared at one another. And then Phalue let go of her sword. “I’ll come peaceably. No need for any worry. Whatever he’s gotten into his head, I’ll sort it out.”

Tythus nodded and let out a breath. He stood to the side. “After you.”

Phalue glanced back at Ranami, and she could see the glint of fear in Phalue’s eyes. And then she turned her head, and let them lead her away.





25





Lin


Imperial Island

The tabletop was smooth and cool beneath my fingertips, and I tried not to sweat. Father had called me in for questioning again, but this time I thought I knew the answers.

“Where did you go on your fifteenth birthday?”

I’d nearly finished reading the green-bound journal. I wished I’d written more specifically about my immediate world, the way things had smelled and tasted. Mostly I’d written about the way I’d felt about things. I’d written a little about my father, and strangely, even my mother – whom I knew had died when I was just a little girl. The father I’d written of was firm but kind, and that was all I could glean. I’d written like I’d known who I was and would never have cause to doubt it.

Father was watching me. My thoughts had flown away, though my gaze had remained locked on his. I was so tired. So much studying.

My fifteenth birthday.

I thought back to the journal, trying to organize my scattered thoughts. Oh yes. I’d written of that day with a good deal of excitement. “A lake, up in the mountains. We spent the day there.” I smiled, as if remembering something pleasant. And if I thought about it, I could almost see the lake I’d written about. The sunlight glittering off its surface, the wind rustling through the trees. “We took a picnic lunch and ate on the shore, throwing crumbs to the birds.”

Father nodded. He let out a long breath; he’d been holding it. “You said it was one of the happiest days of your life.”

How could I have known that? I’d only been fifteen. That was eight years ago. But I held my tongue and watched as he slid a key across the table to me. I waited, not daring to touch it.

“The library,” he said. “It’s down the hall from here if you take a left, four doors down on the left, near my rooms. It’s time you started learning how to create a construct, and how to write its commands.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his sash pocket and slid it across the table to me. “Here is a list of titles you should start with. Finish reading them and come back to me so I can test your knowledge.”

I glanced at the titles, recognizing them as books I’d already stolen and subsequently replaced, devouring the contents as if the words were fish and I a starving cat.

“You may go.”

I rose to my feet but was held fast by the question rising in my throat. It was important to have this unfettered access to the library, but I still felt the absence of my memories like a hollowed-out portion of my chest. “If the lake was one of the happiest days of my life,” I said, hesitating, unsure if I should continue, “why did we not ever go there again?”