The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(69)
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Likh said nervously.
Zoya wove a rune in the air. It sputtered against her fingers. “Still works,” she said, “but it’s not as strong as it should be.”
“If runic magic isn’t used here, then how did the sleeping Daanorian princess acquire a heartsglass of her own?” Fox asked Khalad.
The forger shrugged. “Master thinks it was a foreigner. I don’t think it was an asha though—that would have caused a stir—and Princess Yansheo wouldn’t have understood its significance. Most Daanorians think heartsglass are nothing more than pretty trinkets.”
“Makes what happened to her even more heartless,” Fox said. “Literally.”
The Daanorian palace was the only spot of color in the city. Pearl-white and luminescent, it was ringed by golden towers and sloped roofs, which shone like ivory. As we approached, I saw the reason why—the exterior was covered in marble slates, polished until they reflected the sunlight. I shuddered to think how hot it would be in the height of summer.
“They have an extensive irrigation system that pipes cold and hot water into the rooms within and can be adjusted according to preference,” Shadi murmured. “It keeps the palace temperate, no matter the weather.”
Something felt wrong the instant we stepped inside. Zoya stiffened, her fingers moving. “Wards,” she whispered.
“Someone warded the whole palace?” I could see the barriers writhing above us, tied in complicated knots. I sketched out Compulsion, but nothing happened. I pressed my hand against the protection stone I wore around my neck but found no response to it either. I tried Scrying, to similar effect. These wards were stronger than those in Aenah’s jail if not even the False runes worked.
“We should have expected this,” Shadi said softly. “Magic is banned in Daanoris. Whoever was responsible was also very thorough. And extremely competent.”
“Master never mentioned these protections though,” Khalad said. “This was added recently.”
Likh stared intently at the ceiling, at the magic beyond our grasp. “They may be more complicated than the wards around Aenah, but they don’t look all that different from the spells we wove into zivar at Chesh’s,” he murmured. “Will this put us at a disadvantage?”
“Not completely.” I reached out with my mind, felt my brother’s response, his comfortable nearness. Moving farther out, I detected faint thoughts from the azi. Our connection was not as strong as I was expecting, but it was assuaging to know our link had not been severed.
The azi was drifting lazily somewhere in the middle of the Swiftsea. I tried to nudge it with my mind, tried to get it to turn around—and found that I couldn’t.
“My bond with Tea is intact,” Fox confirmed.
“And the daeva?” Zoya asked.
“Not quite. I can sense it, but it doesn’t respond to my commands.”
“Isn’t that bad?” Likh asked. “Who’s controlling it while you’re here?”
“It’s not going to attack.”
“How sure can you be? It’s a daeva!”
“I’ve been inside its head. It doesn’t like cities. Unless…someone else controls it.”
Zoya groaned.
Even the floors and walls were made of marble. I could hear the soft rushing of water from somewhere nearby as we were led down large hallways. Servants and courtiers stopped to kneel as we passed, their foreheads pressed to the floor as the people outside had done.
At the end of a very long corridor stood two heavy doors. A band of trumpets sounded, and the doors opened almost instantly.
The throne room was even more ostentatious than the one at Kion. It was a dazzling display of white, from the embossed columns to the large, open windows shaded by soft curtains. Golden banners hung from the ceiling, and my heartsglass wavered when I saw they bore the silhouette of a three-headed yellow dragon, the emperor’s personal crest.
In the wake of such rich displays, Emperor Shifang stood out like an afterthought. He sat on a gilded throne that looked more expensive than all our hua combined. I was curious; common folk were not allowed to look on the emperor’s face, and at the last darashi oyun he attended nearly two years ago, his head had always been veiled.
But the emperor wore no concealment now. He was tall with long black hair; curiously intense dark eyes; and, while on the slim side, was easily one of the handsomest men I’d ever seen, rivaling even Prince Kance. His robes were heavily embroidered and wrapped in gold foil, and jewels adorned his wrists and fingers. Three dragons were carefully embroidered in his robes, entwined so closely that they gave off the appearance of being only one creature.
The emperor of Daanoris rose to his feet, and the people in the room genuflected. I stood uncertainly, unsure if I was expected to follow suit, but Zoya stood straight and proud, and we followed her lead.
The emperor made a speech in Daanorian in a surprisingly firm tone, his eyes never leaving Princess Inessa’s face. Zoya stepped forward and delivered her own speech, her confident voice echoing in the room. We were introduced, and the emperor looked surprised to find that I was the Dark asha.
“How can one so small and harmless looking command such power?” Shadi translated. Clearly, the emperor and I were starting off on the wrong foot.