The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(12)

The Constructs of Bureaucracy, Trade, War and Spies were higher-level constructs that helped Father rule, but it seemed more and more that he hid behind their base competence while he worked on his own mysterious projects.

“Perhaps I will try that,” I said, and Bayan actually smiled at me. I frowned, waiting for the trick, the insult.

“Bayan. Lin.” Father’s voice echoed down the corridor. He coughed into his sleeve but kept limping toward us.

A flush worked its way up my chest, making the air around my neck feel like a furnace. I was an idiot. I’d stood here, trading barbs with Bayan while my father had been finishing his nightly routine. I should have been long gone instead of letting Bayan waylay me. Had he done it on purpose?

But he looked as surprised as I did.

Father’s phoenix-headed cane rapped against the floor as he approached; his slippered feet were silent. One of my earliest memories once I’d awoken from my sickness was seeing my father’s foot, bloodied and bandaged, and asking him what had happened. “An accident,” he’d said gruffly. He’d said it in a way that brooked no more questions.

Father stopped in front of us. “What are you doing outside my room?”

The piece of wood I’d used to hold the door open lay heavy in my pocket. The tips of my ears burned. Be like ice, I willed them. Like the ice at the tops of the tallest mountains. I avoided his gaze and waited for Bayan to answer first. My father would see it on my face if I looked him in the eye. He would study my face and know exactly what I’d done.

Bayan said nothing, and the silence stretched – too long.

“Bayan said he’d show me the secret library.” It was the only thing I could think to say.

Both Bayan and my father took in a breath at the same time, both ready to speak.

A soft tapping came from the window at the end of the hall and we all looked to the source of the sound. A hand appeared on the windowsill, and then two, and then four. Ilith, the Construct of Spies crept through the window, one leg at a time.

I wasn’t sure on which of the floating islands Father had found the abomination that made up the bulk of the Construct of Spies. But I knew I never wanted to visit. The construct looked like nothing so much as a giant spider, dark brown and glistening, as tall as my chest when it stood to attention. Human hands were attached to the end of each of its spindly legs, and an old woman’s face adorned the abdomen. I wanted to look away from the creature but always, inevitably, found my gaze tracking its every movement even as my spine prickled. There was a strange beauty in its grotesqueness. “Your eminence,” the Construct of Spies said. Its voice was hazy, as though spoken through layers of cobwebs. It held a folded missive in one of its front arms. “I’ve received word from our fastest Imperial ships. There has been a disaster.”

My father’s attention slipped from me and Bayan. He leaned on his cane and took the proffered parchment. “A disaster? Have the Shardless Few rebels attacked another island? A mine collapse?”

“No, my master,” the Construct of Spies rasped. “It is Deerhead Island. It has sunk into the sea.”





5





Phalue


Nephilanu Island

Ranami had more than made a difference in Phalue’s life – she’d changed it irrevocably, much as Phalue didn’t want to admit it sometimes. Times like now, when she just couldn’t concentrate because of her.

Sweat stuck Phalue’s hair to the back of her neck. The sword in her hand dipped, but she adjusted her grip and gritted her teeth. She’d dive into the Endless Sea before she’d lose a match to Tythus. They were of similar ages, heights and weights – her skill should win out, though. True, she was distracted. As if to prove that point, Tythus darted in, nearly scoring a hit on her pouldron. She batted the attack away just in time.

“Ah, Phalue,” Tythus said, grinning with this near-victory, “you’re not yourself today. A lover’s quarrel perhaps?”

Phalue grimaced. It was an old joke between them. A few years ago, she’d often come to their sparring sessions moody and out of sorts. And he had gently chided her for courting, as he liked to say, “half the island”. He hadn’t been far off, if she were being honest with herself. She’d been an incorrigible flirt, taking up with women both highborn and low. But then she’d met Ranami, and the hot-cold passion had cooled to something more comfortable, more livable.

Lately, though, yes – they’d fought.

Tythus broke through her guard and struck her on the leg. She jumped back, too late, and hissed in pain. That would leave a bruise. She tore off her helmet and sucked in the air. It was still moist with rain from earlier in the morning, making her feel a little like she was drowning on dry land. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to dive into the Endless Sea just yet.

Tythus’ expression sobered, and he lowered his sword. “Really? Something is bothering you. Don’t tell me you’ve broken things off with Ranami. She’s the best thing that’s happened to you.”

Phalue hobbled across the stones of the courtyard, walking off the pain. “No, we’re still together. I just . . . don’t understand women sometimes.”

He crowed with laughter. “Oh, that’s richer than my auntie’s seafood stew.”

She scowled. “I don’t understand other women.” Or perhaps it was just Ranami she didn’t understand. Ranami reminded Phalue of a spotted dove – all soft and brown, quiet and elegant, with round black eyes that evoked gentleness. But there was a thing of sharp edges beneath the feathers, and sometimes Phalue could feel herself brushing up against it if she dug too deep. She walked past the fountain at the corner of the palace courtyard, glancing at it. It was one of the old remnants of the palace, one of the parts built by the Alanga. They’d taken their last stand against the Emperor’s ancestors here on Nephilanu. Her father’s palace was one of the few buildings that had remained mostly intact.