6. SIX
SIX
Mina
My fingers are still locked around the dagger under my pillow, my guardian for when sheer exhaustion won out, and it takes a moment for the feeling to return to them. I stretch, bones cracking and muscles stiff despite the plush bedding.
I searched my room and the adjoining bath before lying down last night, but every sound and silence was heavy with the threat of Zala and the emperor’s people.
I am surprised no one came to harm me last night.
I slide to the edge of the four-poster bed and blink at the bright azure sky cutting through the curtains. Blue and silver decorate the small room, regal yet cold. The whole palace lacks color.
I long for the warmth of my room. Hues that match the blazing sunrise. Soft satin and sweet incense to help me sleep. An army of orange and burgundy cushions in the corner, askew from how often one of my siblings would crash in my room after staying up too late talking.
Home.
The sunlight peeking over the balcony is dim in comparison.
My chest constricts. I force a long breath through my nose as the strange numbness takes over again, like my own body is holding me captive. It’s been happening for weeks, ever since I left home, striking without warning.
My spirit is unmoored without my family. My body is paying the price. I doubt it will cease until I lay them to rest properly.
I pull out my amethyst and run my fingers over the cool, smooth surface, letting it ground me. I close my eyes and focus on breathing. In and out, slow and steady, until the chains of grief loosen their hold.
I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually my body relaxes enough for me to move. The hollowness left in my chest is accompanied by a pit in my stomach.
The emperor commanded I stay in the room until he calls, but it better be soon.
I barely ate yesterday after I used up the rest of my coin.
I managed to sweet-talk my way into a steamed bun for lunch, but once I dressed and successfully evaded the landlady whom I now owe one night’s rent, I kept to the shadows until the ball.
Calling on the wind last night certainly didn’t help. I need to replenish my strength soon. My stomach gurgles in agreement.
Even more than food, I need to hammer out the full logistics of our arrangement. Then I will have my army. If the emperor had not already declared me his intended in front of his council, I might worry about a change of heart. His haste yesterday is in my favor.
Unable to simply stare out the window until a man calls on me, I make my way to the attached bath chamber. A large white tub with intricate silver handles sits above the ground. I turn one, letting my fingers run through the water until it’s full.
I slip off the simple nightgown I found laid out on the bed last night and climb into the tub, making sure my dagger is within reach. Deliciously hot water permeates my sore muscles, and I melt a little.
A real bath. I will never take such luxuries for granted again.
My heart longs for natural springs and echoing laughs, but this is a wonderful substitute compared to the dirty water basin at the inn.
Opaque blue bottles sit on the cart within reach.
I collect a few at random. Most have a floral scent, but I’m not brave enough to pour any of them into the water without knowing what they are for.
Once I find one that contains a suitable soap, I scrub until I am sufficiently clean.
I stand and dry myself with the flick of my wrist, pulling the water back into the ornate tub. My stomach pinches in response, growling its protest.
I pad into the main room and pull open the wardrobe, only to find it empty.
Whoever provided the nightgown didn’t think to add fresh clothes for the day as well.
I have no desire to put on my dress from last night, nor the nightgown I left on the bathroom floor.
Both are saturated with sweat, and for the first time since I made landfall almost four weeks ago, I am truly clean.
I laze around in a towel for an hour, wondering where my not-so-gracious host is. My impatience rises with the sun, and after another half hour, I decide that he must have forgotten about me. The morning isn’t that late yet, but he should have at least sent an attendant along with some food by now.
I study my towel gown in the mirror. The plush cotton reveals far too much for my taste. I survey the room for suitable cover, settling on the canopy draped over the top of the bed. A light blue gauzy fabric, large enough to wrap around myself in a similar design to last night.
I tie off the fabric above one shoulder and strap my dagger to the inside of my thigh. A bit more effort to retrieve the blade is worth the extra concealment.
I pull open my door, armed with an excuse for the soldiers, but find the hallway empty. The two assigned to guard my door last night are part of the reason sleep eluded me for so long. Even with the lock in place, it was hard to relax with two strange men on the other side of the wall.
The only sound in the empty hall is the whine of my stomach.
Right. Food first.
Then I will give the emperor my opinion of his hospitality so far.
I venture through the halls in search of sustenance. I imagined the walls would be crammed with decadent paintings and sculptures, spoils of war, but instead fresh vases of flowers sit at tasteful intervals. The occasional landscape hangs between sparse doorways.
The palace feels hollow, but then again, the war only ended a few months ago. Emperor Gilchrist did not strike me as a man who ranks interior decor high on his task list.
I pause to admire a vase of pale pink flowers when a line in the wall catches my attention. I finger the seam until it pops open, revealing a small, dark stairway. Hopefully the narrow space leads to the kitchens.
My escape route in Kalisham was one of our best-kept secrets. Either we moved too fast for anyone to catch us, or even the almighty Zala was in the dark about them. As Master of Shadows, he would’ve been privy to the routes eventually, but maybe Mother had reason to not trust him.
None of us should have. All the times he made me uncomfortable, or something felt off, I should’ve pushed the issue more. Maybe I could have prevented their deaths.
The responsibility for their loss presses down on me as heavily as the dark and dust. I keep my palm pressed to the rough walls to keep from tripping down the stairs. I find my way to a dark landing, where my legs give out, a fresh wave of grief knocking me over.
Sour bile fills my mouth as nausea rolls through me. I squeeze my eyes shut to banish any tears and focus on taking deep breaths. The air is stale and coats my tongue with a lingering decay, but it’s working.
Once the nausea settles, I stand on shaky legs and assess the tunnels. The left is shrouded in darkness, while the right reveals the faintest hint of warmth and light around a corner. I opt for the light and am rewarded with a heavy stone door.
Please be the kitchen. Please be the kitchen.
There’s a noticeable absence of delicious smells or the gentle clang of pots and pans, so my hope dwindles. I shove against the door and immediately bring my hands up to block the bright sunlight. I certainly didn’t expect to find myself outside.
The door swings shut, flush with the wall as if it never existed. A secret exit. Great.
I have no idea which way leads to the kitchens or even which side of the palace I stumbled out of. How have I not run into anyone yet? Hopefully I will find someone to lead me to the kitchens or my insolent host. Whichever is closer at this point.
I pick a direction at random and try to follow along the exterior wall. While the upper levels boast massive windows, the ground level is made of layers of thick stone. Backed into a mountain, the whole palace looms like a menacing shadow, closed off from the rest of the world.
At home, I can stand on the edge of my palace and watch over the town below and swirling dunes in every direction. The life of the city is carried to me on warm winds. It’s nothing like the fortress beside me.
I am ready to abandon my quest for food when the scent of fresh bread permeates the air. I follow the mouthwatering smell away from the palace and toward a large wooden building. A figure in gray and blue disappears behind a door as I round the corner.
Food and a human to ask for directions. Fate has not abandoned me yet.
I slip through the door and follow the noise to an open room. A few attendants shuffle around with piles of food, laying them out on a long table. A simple spread of eggs, bread, some round meat, and cheeses.
My stomach growls, demanding attention loud enough to catch the staff off guard. The women startle, then bow, keeping their eyes firmly planted at my feet.
“No one brought breakfast to my room or came to escort me to a dining hall.”
They tense as if my words struck them.
“I’m Princess Mina Ardeshir of Kalisham. What are your names?”
The closest attendant to me, a petite young woman with cool-beige skin and chestnut hair tucked into a long braid, holds a basket of warm bread.
“My name is Jaime,” she says. “The others are Amalia and Cossette. I’m not sure who was assigned to attend to you, but one of us can escort you to the dining hall immediately. ”
Sharp shouts from beyond a set of double doors catch my attention. A deep male voice barks muffled commands. Jaime notices my shift in attention without ever looking up. I admire her awareness and am grateful for her bravery to speak up.
“Some soldiers are finishing up their morning training. This is their breakfast,” she explains. Her bowed head is not that of a timid woman, but more a habit, unlike the two behind her.
Another muffled shout reaches us, and curiosity gets the better of me. What an excellent opportunity to assess the skills of the emperor’s army. These will be the women and men who help me take back Kalisham. I need to make sure their skills are up to my standards.