Upon death must the Crown be passed unto he whose Grace is most refined, and thus begins the cycle anew.
The Grace of Crowns may taint and decline; for from the blood of the Graced and the blood of the common can only be borne an ever barren generation.

—The Four Laws of Saegyr
the third and fourth

19

↝ THE BONDMATE ↜

Nights like these made Isla think of Noi, and her life in Elingar.

Their two donkeys. Her little cubby of a room. Her days spent serving in their coffee house.

Well. Some things never change.

The patrons who frequented Noi's establishment were often boisterous, on occasion curt, but the Maha Rama's guests made even the worst of them into sweet little perri.

Isla had been spending the entire night making rounds of the Grand Palace gardens, her tray quickly emptying as soon as she had it refilled. The noble guests grabbed and spilt as they pleased, leaving empty glasses upon any surface they saw.

I thought they were meant to be bred better than that. Isla picked an empty flute from a low-hanging branch. Then again, the Maha Rama's invited all with even a quarter of noble blood. What do you expect of pretenders?

'I asked you a question.' Someone grabbed her arm. 'Honestly. Where does the Maha Rama get his servants from?'

Pepper heated in her pocket. With her free hand, Isla squeezed the element gently to a still. 'My deepest apologies, my lord. The music –'

It was Aldir, flashing a grin full of teeth.

Isla was unimpressed. 'Ifrit burn you, Aldir! I thought I was done for!'

Aldir laughed heartily and took a drink off her tray. 'Come, it was only a bit of play.'

'You would not be laughing so hard if you knew how close you were to becoming kindling for Pepper.'

'Pepper?'

'My salamander – it's a long story.' Isla swerved just in time to allow a group of women through. The music had changed to an ensemble of reed pipes and stringed instruments, and more people were taking to the centre of the garden to dance.

Aldir was again before her, and she felt a strong urge to fling her serving tray aside and embrace the man. She had not recognised him at first, in his traditional Surikh garb – the long, velvet coat made of fine lacework, and the thick, embroidered sash draped over his left shoulder, marking him as an honoured guest.

'Has everything gone well for you?' she stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. The music and crowd hid their conversation, but one could never be too careful.

'Better than expected. Sir Edric has convinced the Maha Rama to allow us a look into the palatial dungeons.'

'How in all the epps –'

'Apparently one of his own sons is devoted to prison reform. Or grandson? It's difficult to keep them all in track.'

Kiet. She had not seen him since they returned from the Water Palace three days ago. He had immediately been hurried off to have his arm seen to, not that he had looked particularly troubled by it.

'We've agreed to share best practices in the matter. Surikhand has no short of prisoners, and quite the recidivist population.'

'I don't see how that will help find my sister.'

'Just be sure you attend our audience with the Maha Rama. Day after next.' Aldir took one last sip of his drink before returning it to Isla's tray. 'You'd best get back to work before your friends tattle.'

Phrae glared at her through a part in the crowd, all the while dutifully serving her own platter of cakes. Isla sighed. It was time she refilled her tray, anyway.

The kitchen was a continuous stream of servants; bustling in and out, stirring pots, washing utensils ... Isla squeezed down to the wine cellar, where she found Prijsti pouring more rice wine into her own tray.

The woman turned and breathed a sigh of relief. 'Oh. It's only you.'

'Stealing a bottle for your private collection?'

'I only wish I'd thought of that.' Prijsti stepped aside and revealed the tabby licking wine from a glass. 'Head Cook would kill me if she ever saw. But I like to prepare specially cleaned glasses for ... certain guests.'

'I know what you mean. I only worry for the cat.'

'This old rascall? Couldn't keep her away from the drinks if I tried.' Prijsti ruffled the stray affectionately. 'I'm going to miss her.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I haven't had the chance to tell you – or thank you, for that matter. For discovering my son among the delegates, and passing on my message.'

Come to think of it, the last Isla had spent time with Prijsti had been at Rajini Dhvani's estate, when they laid out the offerings.

So much has happened ... and it couldn't have been even two weeks. The rajini had since returned from potting her son's frangipani. If the accounts were true, she was offering a handsome reward for any information regarding the murder. Even then, none had come forward. What hope do I have, if even a rajini can't uncover her own son's murder?

'... my son,' Prijsti was saying. 'An Eling delegate! You can't imagine how proud I am. It turns out the other delegate ... he's an old friend of mine, and I ... we'll be leaving together. Soon, I think.'

Isla had known Sir Edric's plan, but she had not realised it was moving along so quickly. 'That's wonderful news.'

'They've arranged a ship to take us to Elingar together ... though I'm to make for Biripor much sooner. Within the next few weeks. I don't understand why we can't all just go together ... but who am I to argue?'

'I wouldn't dwell on it. They likely need more time to satisfy their diplomatic mission, and want you in the port town meanwhile, ready and waiting.' And safe.

'You're probably right.' Prijsti sighed. 'It's hard to imagine ... after all these years ... to be back in Elingar ...'

'You've built your life here.' Isla understood.

'Not much of one, I admit. I've no family here, and only a couple close friends. This hairball makes three.' The cat purred under her scratches. 'She's been with me for as long as I've been here. We survived this place together, you know?'

'Take her. There are enough strays in the kitchen.' One of them could be Haana's bondmate, now wild and unattended ...

'It's an idea. Though how she'll cope with the sea ... and I'll have to ask Ed—my travelling companions if I can bring her.'

They crossed the ocean for you. 'I'm sure they wouldn't mind.'

Prijsti took Isla's tray and replaced the dirty flutes. 'I feel much better, now. You're the only one I can really talk to about this. Thanks for putting up with me.'

'Not at all. Anything to keep me from those people out there.'

'I'm glad to be rid of them, you know? Your troubles are just begun, though. If there's anything I can do ... before I go ...'

Isla took the replenished tray. 'Now that you mention it, I'd appreciate if you could get me into the Maha Rama's audience chamber two days from now.'

'Special meeting?'

'I hear the maharaj will be attending.' Isla felt sick saying it, but she had to keep up the charade. She even threw in a giggle for good measure. 'Anything for a closer look at him.'

Prijsti laughed behind a hand. 'How can I say no to that? Consider it done.'

That's one less thing to worry about.

They parted, Isla returning to her duties in the gardens just as a gong resounded.

The music ebbed. Dancers paused and turned their eyes upon the central balcony extending from the palace, whence the sound came.

A figure appeared from within and took his place above the crowd. The Maha Rama, robed in his customary silver and black brocade, and flanked by half a dozen men.

With him came the pressure upon Isla's chest. The rush of blood, the fine hairs rising across her body. The urge to bow her head and never look up.

At once the crowd muted, and the Maha Rama spoke. 'My most beloved people of Surikhand. It pleases my heart deeply to behold you here, on this blessed night; on this eve of the rising year.'

His resonance lifted as he spoke, and Isla was able to look at the balcony in which he stood. Still she avoided his face, and searched instead amongst the finely dressed men behind him. It was no use – they were too far for her to make any features.

After a painful minute, the Maha Rama concluded his speech. The gong sounded once more, this time to mark the rising year. The party erupted in music and dance. Flame burst from the palace battlements, arching over the garden and showering them in sparks of blue and green.

The lower balconies of the Grand Palace filled with girls, all swathed in shell-trimmed syarong and pearls in their crown braids. Court musicians resumed to a merry tune, and the girls begun their dance, with every few beats spraying petals over the crowd, now revelling under the sprinkle of corolla and spark.

Isla worked deep into the night, keeping an eye on the dancers when she was not watching for stumbling drunks.

So that's what they've been teaching the early-bloomers.

It had been several weeks since she last saw Rinju. Isla wove between guests until she stood below the child's balcony. She looked older, now, the way they had dressed her; but she was trembling with fear beneath those heavily kohled eyes.

Why is she so frightened?

That was when she realised Rinju was alone. The other girls on her terrace had gone. Isla searched the other balconies, where few girls remained dancing. One by one they would be approached by important-looking men, and one by one escorted within.

The warmth left Isla's face. She could not even think clearly. She needed to get to Rinju – already now a man approached the child. Isla stilled her shaking tray and pushed towards the Grand Palace doors.

'They are only talking.' Kiet had stepped out of nowhere and into her path.

Not now. 'Of course, and you only a ship officer.'

'I am.' He did not step aside. 'I was. Though I would not say "only". One can be an officer and many other things beside.'

Isla looked up. Rinju was gone. If I can't save my sister, dear Reijyr at least let me save Rinju. 'She's only a child! Let me pass!'

Kiet took a drink off her tray. 'I told you. They do nothing but speak, and under strict observation. We are people of the Eastern Isles. Do you think we would permit any untoward conduct? He is only getting to know your friend, that is all.'

'So he can make her his child bride!'

'Keep your voice down. Even the music cannot hide your passion, and what will the guests think to see anyone – let alone a serving lady – speak to a maharaj in such a manner?' He smiled at a passing gentleman and nodded to another as he spoke. 'We do not allow women to wed before her sixteenth namesday. You know this.'

'You had better be speaking truthfully, this time.'

'Threats? To a maharaj?' His brows curled. 'Truth be told, I do prefer this version of you. Though keep in mind you do no good marching into the palace like a wild ifrit. You'll only get yourself into trouble, which, I assume, you are already in a whole world of.'

Isla hesitated.

'No one but a spy would voyage across the Ters Altum to sneak into a country and live an impostor's life.' The music was so loud Isla could barely hear him.

'If you think me a spy, why am I not in the dungeons?' The question gnawed at her.

'The dungeons.' Kiet mulled over his wine. 'I thought I was the only one preoccupied with them.'

Ifrit's breath, I'm going to talk myself into a confession. 'You are, and I have much work.'

They had been talking for too long, and eyes were starting to wander towards them. Towards the maharaj, more like.

Second in line or no, many would still vie for a dance with a prince. It was not wise to spend so long in his company. Kiet must have noticed the same, for he placed his half-drank glass on Isla's tray and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a nod farewell.
    

❖ ❖ ❖
      

Tran did not return to the asraam following the night's festivities. Isla would have been concerned, if Phrae had not seen the girl 'flirting like a trollop' and walking into the small hours with an unnamed gentleman. Now Isla found the girl stealing out of the Grand Palace grounds, shamefaced and smelling of rum.

'Lilja!' Her cheeks flushed when they met by the bridge. 'Why are you up so early?'

'The real question is why are you up so late?' Isla grinned.

Tran's redness only deepened. 'By Ghenzu, I swear ... we did nothing. We only talked into the morning.'

'That's nobody's business but your own. I would not tell Phrae, though.' She sees everyone a trollop.

Tran chewed on her lip. 'I lost track of time. He was such good company.'

'You'll need to tell me more of this peculiar gentleman.'

'Just a minor lord ... no one important. But he's funny.'

'I'm really happy for you. Are you meeting again?'

'Tonight – if I can get some sleep before then.'

'And a bath.' Isla cringed.

She left Tran laughing and in better mood. As she should be, after meeting her potential suitor. She only hoped Phrae would not dampen their friend's spirits. It was everything Tran had wanted.

When did I become so invested? Tran's a friend, but I shouldn't lose sight of what I'm truly here for.

Yet there she was, on her way to the White Asraam. Another deviation, when she should be looking into the rajinis. But Isla had not slept well; her dreams haunted by masked queens and children dancing before a den of hungry wolves.

She had to see Rinju.