'Are we having guests?' Someone asked just as she disappeared up the hallway.

'This late at night?'

'It's a suitor, isn't it?' Another girl shrieked, and the entire room erupted into excitement.

Isla gripped Rinju's hand below the table, but the younger girl was just as excited as the rest of them. Only Hanh and a couple of the other smaller ones seemed more bewildered than anything. Mistress Sasya stood and waved them all down, but her voice was drowned in all the tumult.

'Can I see your sleeping chamber?' Isla whispered at Rinju, hoping to distract the girl with better—safer—activites. 'Do you share it with your friends?'

'Ours is on the first floor.' Rinju's eyes were still on the hallway even as she answered. 'But I don't think we're excused yet.'

'I could speak to Mistress Sasya and—'

'Can't we go after Mistress Umala comes back? Don't you want to see who the suitor's come for?'

Not really, no. Isla did not think she would be able to stop herself from interceding, for all the good it would do.

But it was not a suitor who returned with the matron. It was Maharaj Khaisan and a beautiful girl at his side. Her qi-sang flowed like a pool around her feet; thin layers of white over yellow like the shades of a baby daffodil. The pleated skirt was tied above her bust with orange crinoline, and beneath it she wore a white blouse with flowing sleeves.

'Girls.' Mistress Umala spoke in Common Kapuluan, articulating the words slowly and clearly. 'May I present to you our Rama-in-Waiting, Maharaj Khaisan Ametjas ... and honoured guest to our kingdom, the High Princess Jihan of Napoa.'

She wore her hair in two buns; so round and lustrous they looked like candied chestnuts on her head. The gems upon them twinkled when she turned to gaze upon the room. Isla shrunk into the shadows of the wall separating her from the hallway, hoping it would keep either of them from noticing her—a much older dhayang—among the children.

'I understand it is late,' said Maharaj Khaisan, 'but I am acquainting the princess to our palatial ring, and naturally have I left the highlight of the palace for last.'

'Welcome to the White Asraam.' Mistress Umala dipped into a low bow and all the children lowered their heads at her example. 'The gods have blessed us to have you.'

'I did not know you keep an orphanage at Kathedra,' said the High Princess Jihan. Hers was a clear, confident voice, but sounded much younger than she looked. She had a quiet smile—something one might wear while listening to a child's story—and she had not a single crease on her skin, not even around her eyes. 'Or are these simply the unintended products of your royalborns' more ... salacious nights? Surely your palace herbalists keep a steady supply of dianthus. Of course they do not always work, in which case lover's lace should do the trick, if your people were not so inimical to abortifacients.'

Khaisan smiled. He said something in response, but Isla was already yards away, trying to unravel what she had just heard.

'These are neither orphans nor bastards, princess,' said Khaisan. 'These are our realm's early-blooming girls. At least—those below sixteen summers. Surikhand is only glad their mothers did not take dianthus in their teas.'

The last words seemed drawn from his mouth and the horror sunk into Isla just as slowly. But the rajini asked if I—

Oh, no.

She shut her eyes, but Kiet's smirk only manifested in the darkness. You solicited me as though I were some tavern rentboy! His laughter echoed again and again and again ...

Oh gods, no.

I take dianthus in my tea, she had told him. She may as well have stretched herself out on the bed and spread her legs before him!

'Eldest?' Rinju heard her groaning.

'I'm fine,' Isla whispered back, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'I'm just ...'

She drew in a deep breath. Now was not the time to be having a crisis. The princess had walked further down the hallway and now stood at the head of the dining chamber, studying each early-blooming face. Isla shrank further into the shadows, grounding herself with Maharaj Khaisan's voice.

'We have at present eight-and-twenty girls,' he said, 'though half a dozen comes and goes within a year's turn, and this is a relatively new initiative of ours. This blooming season alone marked its seventh year.'

How was she ever to face him again? Maybe she should explain her mistake—Ahh, no! She could not imagine that conversation going well for her. And Kiet ... he would never let her live this down!

'Do you need to lie down? I can ask Mistress Sasya to—'

'No, no, it's all right.' Isla forced a smile through her internal squirming. She could not bring any attention on herself.

Keep yourself present, Eshe had always told Tam Mai. Perhaps her exercises could benefit more than her sister.

Isla turned her gaze on the royal pair and listed all the jewels on their bodies. The orange tigers-eyes in her hairpiece and the grey diamonds in his circlet. He looked darker beside the princess, his skin teak to her maple, the silver and black of his robe an exact counter to her palette of pale sunset. Hopefully it was symbolic of the connection the two shared. Isla knew exactly what he was doing—winning over the High Princess of Napoa would mean winning a little more over his grandfather.

'You have six new early-bloomers a year?' asked Princess Jihan.

'Six new early-blooming girls a year.'

And that's not counting the ones lucky enough to elude you.

'That is a conservative estimate, beside,' continued Maharaj Khaisan. 'Surikhand is blessed to produce among the highest amount of early-bloomers in all the Eastern Isles.'

'Considering your population counts among highest in all the Kapuluan Raja, I'd be surprised if it didn't.' Khaisan's smile faltered slightly, but the princess only shrugged and continued, 'You school them. We do the same in Napoa, only we train our early-blooming boys as well as our girls.'

'We do more than school them.' Maharaj Khaisan turned to the asraam matron. 'Tell us, Mistress, for how many of your girls have suitable arrangements been made?'

'Seven, maharam, though the Rama is close to promising an eighth.'

'You see, princess, our early-bloomers will all one day become great syuri of the realm. They will be wed to only our most promising, accomplished nobleborns; mother strong theurgists who will one day themselves serve the kingdom.'

You're skipping the part where their children will be high-blooded enough for your kind to marry. Isla lowered her head. If the maharam so much as blinked in her direction, he would recognise her.

Fortunately the High Princess demanded all of his attention.

'Surikhand has always been blessed with theurgy,' he continued, 'but these girls here will bring us a renewed vigour. For that they are cherished and protected by the Rama himself.'

Yet I doubt you know a single of their names.

'I see.' Princess Jihan gave a knowing smile. 'An ... interesting ... initiative, though not one I imagine would pull well in Napoa. We make use of all our early-bloomers. They are trained as soon as they are identified, their theurgy refined as well as their skills with a blade. We prefer to shape our early-bloomers for the battlefield, not ... for the bed. Make them into warhorses rather than your broodmares.'

She's not wrong, but does she need to be so vile about it? Isla was only glad the conversation went above most of the girls' heads—though Chanou was clearly surprised by the way she looked around their table, brows furrowed as she asked no one in particular to confirm that last bit for her.

Even the proud grin on Maharaj Khaisan's face melted into one of stunned indignance, but the princess seemed only emboldened by it. 'The High Khan's personal guard is made of our best early-blooming men; my mother's waiting ladies are all early-blooming women. That is why Napoa excels in the field of war and no assassin has succeeded in breaching our walls.'

Maharaj Khaisan raised a brow. 'Surikhand is fortunate not to suffer so many domestic troubles. Ours is a united people; thus are we blessed to not need over-concern ourselves with such barbaric and underhanded measures as assassination.'

High Princess Jihan laughed. 'Did you not recently have to execute your Rama's queen consort for assassinating another?'

'Murder exists here as well as in any other realm, princess. Ours is simply driven not over matters of succession or claims to the throne. We are guided by our laws and principles exactly to prevent such issues.'

Isla shirked against the wall, wishing it would take pity and absorb her until the conversation was through. What was the maharam thinking, anyway? If he wished to seduce the High Princess of Napoa, getting into a boasting match over whose kingdom was better was clearly not the way to do it.

'Your people follow you because they are obligated by law to do so. Ours follow the High Khan because he has proven himself time and again. By blood and steel, victory and power.'

'That's all well and good until a brother usurps another and throws Napoa into another half-century-long instability.'

Where is Kiet when you need him? Isla sniffed. Perhaps if he was not so busy making a show of seducing his princess, he would be able to prevent Khaisan from strutting into a war with this one.

No. Better not think about Kiet.

'Surikhand is not so short-sighted,' continued the crown prince. 'We look to the future, and all our initiatives reflect this. Our early-bloomers will not die young on the battlefield, we do not use them as shields to protect the royalborn. It is our duty to protect the people—not the people's duty to protect us—and the more have we highborns of great theurgy, the greater our ability to safeguard the realm.'

Mistress Umala opened her mouth before quickly shutting it back tight, still standing in the cold of the hallway. The other instructors looked expectantly at her, but Isla understood her predicament. Who was she to interrupt a discussion between two royalborns? Yet on the other hand, the princess had grown so riled that even her jii seeped out of her, dry and hot like a blistering desert sun. Any stronger and more directed, and it would be considered an outright formal challenge.

The girls at her table were visibly upset; Hanh trembled on her cushions, apparently never being subjected to an exertion of theurgic presence before. She must be very new to the palace.

'Your words may sound wise to the uninitiated,' started the princess, 'but any true warrior knows the quality of the blade matters much more than its quantity.'

She stepped into the dining hall at this, the closest girls instinctively scooting away from her feet. The High Princess Jihan looked down at them all from the upturn of her nose.

'You say they are all early-bloomers, but look how meek and quiet and subservient they are. Surikhand likes to keep her girls meek and subservient. In Napoa, our women do not hide behind their men.'

How can someone be so right yet so wrong all at once? Isla could hardly stand the maharam, but the princess was starting to make her sit in his court for how much she grated on Isla's nerves.

'She looks angry,' whispered Rinju beside her. 'What are they saying?'

Isla only shook her head. Any answer would be drowned, besides, below Maharaj Khaisan's barely-contained reply. 'They do not hide, they are protected! Which part of that did you fail to comprehend?'

'Our women do not need to be protected—'

'Our academy dhayang are trained to fight, but their knowing how does not mean they should, just as their love for home and family makes them no more or less subservient. Surikhand is not so short of able-bodied and strong men that we are forced to make our mothers and daughters fight on our behalf!'

How benevolent.

'Perhaps if you did, you might win more wars.'

'And if you refrained, perhaps Napoa would not be faced with such a crisis of numbers.'

'If that is the case, I assume you will have no trouble defeating me in direct duel, maharaj.' Her jii radiated with every emphasis. The children closest to her cowered with their heads low like beaten dogs; some yelped and broke into tears as all lights in the room flickered and dimmed. Shadows crawled in from the corners of the room, shrouding them in the semi-darkness of moonlight coming in through one side of the dining hall.

Isla gasped. This was no longer a matter of disrespect, but a blatant show of dominance. But to his credit, Maharaj Khaisan did not bite to her provocations and only laughed. 'Unlike in Napoa, no Surikh man worth his salt would ever strike a woman. The duelling tournament is for the fairer gender barred.'

'Who said anything about the tournament?'

'You are frightening the children, princess. If you wish to test our skills, neither here nor now makes an appropriate setting. But I will offer you a friendly wager. If even one of your brothers is able to defeat me in the coming tournament, I will submit to a duel with you.'

That took the edge off most of the princess's ire. Her theurgy calmed, the shadows withdrew. 'And if they fail?'

'If I defeat them all, you will forget about all of this. You will join me to the Rama's Water Palace and allow me to complete our tour there.'

Wow. At least Kiet can't say his nephew isn't dedicated.

The princess was just as speechless.

'What is the matter?' pressed Khaisan. 'The odds sit in your favour. Three brothers you have with whom I must contend ... and as much as you laud Napoa's skills upon the field of war, surely I stand no match for them? Or perhaps you are not so confident as you claim.'

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↝ END CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT↜

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☆ this chapter is dedicated to Cathyziyaya ☆

Video: Music is OST of the TV series, Shadow and Bone
Image: Original artists unknown