Rye picked up his shovel. “Even if it could work, this isn’t what Dyraien is looking for.”
“How would you know?”
“You created an external weapon, a weapon that looks like something Adrinia Kov’kai already designed, and attached it to the castle. Dyraien wants this entire castle turned into a machine. An oversized catapult won’t cut it.”
Tahki swatted at a fly. Rye had liked the design. He’d looked at it with such surprise, such open admiration. Why had he said it wouldn’t work?
“Maybe you’re what’s not working,” Tahki said.
Rye raised an eyebrow at him. “This should be interesting.”
“You’re so quick to dismiss an idea. I bet Dyraien found lots of solutions, but you keep rejecting them, so the project remains at a standstill.” Tahki didn’t really believe the words that left his mouth, but they kept coming. “Maybe you’re not as good a constructor as Dyraien thinks you are, and you know it, so you’re afraid to try my designs.”
Rye stared at him. Tahki thought he might take a swing at him, but Rye remained composed.
“You’re not used to people telling you you’re wrong,” Rye said in level tones. “So this is going to be hard for you to hear. When a goat acts up, Dyraien gives it three chances to correct its behavior. Good goats get to stay, and bad ones are sent to slaughter.”
Tahki swallowed. “You’re threatening me?”
“I’m saying that I train the goats myself to keep them out of the butcher shop. I’m the buffer between you and Dyraien, so listen when I tell you that if you don’t drop the entitled attitude, you’re going to find yourself out of a job.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m some ignorant child.”
“Then don’t act like one.” Rye ran a hand through his hair. “Your design is sloppy. Rushed. I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but take your time. Dyraien is set on using the river as a power source. Maybe try incorporating that into your next design.”
Tahki turned from the stables and stomped back inside the castle. He didn’t need Rye’s advice, and he didn’t need to use the river as a power source. Water power had been used for centuries, but now, with all the new-age machines and inventions, it had become obsolete. He didn’t know why Dyraien was so set on using the river as part of the design. Maybe he didn’t think there was any other way. Maybe it was up to Tahki to show him a better solution.
He walked up the stairway and heard Dyraien’s voice down the hall. Before he knew what he was doing, he turned right instead of left at the top and headed toward the queen’s room. He stopped outside her door. Voices hummed beyond. He knew better than to go inside. Dyraien had said none of them were to ever disturb the queen.
He glanced down at his work. The catapult was a good, practical design. It would make a fantastic weapon. Maybe it had been inspired by something already done, but Tahki’s modifications fit all the criteria, except for the part about using the river as a power source, but that seemed a minor thing.
Tahki reached for the door. It opened easy.
Dyraien sat beside his mother on the bed, whispering to her. His head whipped up as Tahki stepped inside.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Dyraien said. “Get out!”
Tahki froze. He’d never heard Dyraien speak with such harshness. This wasn’t the same gift-bearing, flirtatious prince as before.
“I’m sorry,” Tahki said. “I found a drawing. I mean I drew a drawing. I drawn… I have drawn… here.” He stepped toward him and reached his design over, as if it were a shield that would protect him from the man’s sudden temper.
Dyraien snatched the drawing out of his hand.
The queen swayed back and forth. She reached for Dyraien’s arm and pulled him back down to her. “Such a beautiful child,” the queen muttered. “My only baby boy.”
Dyraien ignored her and kept his eyes on Tahki. “You found a solution? You’ve designed a machine?” A little softness crept back into his voice.
Tahki nodded.
“And Rye thinks it’s a good idea?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Dyraien unfolded the paper and scanned it. Tahki held his breath. The queen gazed wide-eyed over his shoulder, like a child looking at a picture book.
And then Dyraien frowned. “Rye approved this?”
Tahki swallowed. “He… he said….”
“Toxic!” the queen yelled. Her voice sounded deeper than before. Harsher. The voice of a woman who’d brought down kingdoms. “Toxic, foul, wrong!”
Dyraien let Tahki’s design fall to the ground. “Mother, please, we can’t have you worked up. You’ll hurt yourself again.”
Queen Genevi stood and smashed her foot against the paper. “Evil. Wrong. The sky is singing tears, the ground grows teeth to peel my skin.” She hissed and grabbed her head, and for one disorienting moment, Tahki was reminded of Sornjia.
Dyraien pushed her firmly onto her bed where she curled up and started to cry. He plucked the floor plan off the marble, grabbed Tahki by the arm, and dragged him into the hall.
“What the hell is this?” Dyraien said, the paper balled in his fist.
Tahki didn’t know what to say. His design had been clever, creative. “I thought it’s what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” Dyraien said between clenched teeth. “Even my crazed, sick mother can see that this is all wrong, and she doesn’t even recognize me most days.”
Tahki felt his throat close up. The cruelness in Dyraien’s voice resonated through him. Before he could reply, apologize, beg for his job, he heard footsteps.
Rye ran up beside them, still covered in mud. “What’s going on? Why is the queen screaming?”
Dyraien let Tahki go and shoved the design in Rye’s face. “Did you really approve this? Did you tell him to come find me and show me this… this joke?”
This joke. Tahki’s work was a joke. He’d been so worried about Sornjia ruining his chances here he hadn’t seen the self-destructive nature of his own designs. Rye had been right all along: he was no
