Tahki threw the stick. “It still seems strange he’d keep the queen a secret.”
“Dyraien loves his people,” Rye said. “He wants them to feel safe and protected, and if they saw their ruler in such a state, they might panic. I think Dyraien just wants to prove to them he has both the intelligence and means to protect them.”
Rye sounded so certain, but Tahki was still missing some vital piece of information about the castle. Whatever it was, he felt sure Rye didn’t know. Bringing Tahki here, motivating him and opening up, all felt so genuine. So raw. Like nothing anyone had ever done for him. No one had ever been on his side, had ever wanted him to succeed. Not since his mother died.
He remembered how he used to sit on her lap when he was a child and watch her draw. How pleased she was when he’d sketch next to her. How patient she was when he’d try to draw a cube, but it didn’t come out perfect, and she’d tell him, “Keep practicing. There is no perfection in art, just improvement.”
“I’ll find a solution,” Tahki said. “Just give me a little more time.”
Rye stood. “I’m happy to hear that. Dyraien will be too.”
Chapter 8
“I CAN’T remember the last time you took an interest in someone,” Sornjia said. “I can’t remember you ever taking an interest in someone. For a time I thought you were like the sand worms. The ones who don’t mate, they just cut off their own tails to make offspring.”
Tahki peeled an orange for his breakfast over Gale’s sink. “I don’t have an interest in Rye. I just think he’s interesting.”
Sornjia washed a dish beside him. “You’ve been here an hour, and he’s all you’ve talked about.”
“I respect him is all.”
“Your ears are turning red.”
Tahki walked to the old gray couch across from the kitchen table and sucked on a tangy slice. He wiggled and sunk down into the lumpy cushions. The couch smelled like smoke and fish. Shelves to his left displayed an impressive collection of pistols. “So what do you and Gale do all day?”
“You’re changing the subject.” Sornjia smiled and joined him. “I help her with chores, and she brought me a lot of books to read. She tried to teach me how to shoot yesterday, but guns aren’t for me. Too loud. They rattle my brain, and I don’t think I’d ever have any use for one.”
“Are you speaking normal to her like I told you?”
“Normal as the trees speak to the stars.”
Tahki paused on an orange slice and glared at him.
“Yes, Tahki. I try to keep my words like yours. Contained.”
“Good,” Tahki said. “She’s been very patient with us.”
“I know.”
Tahki had been frustrated that the paper still hadn’t arrived, but a small—oh so small—part of him was happy to have his brother there. Tahki had given up everything he’d known, the good and the bad. His home, the heat, his lifestyle, servants, good food, his comfortable silk sheets. It had been exciting at first. But after a few days, Tahki had started to crave the routine he’d become accustomed to for the last eighteen years. Having Sornjia there was like a buffer, though he’d never admit it out loud.
“Sornjia,” Tahki said. “Why did you say there was something wrong with the castle?”
Sornjia sat back. He picked at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Do you remember that year we were obsessed with the book series Alabaraiin and the Magic Sandbull, and we spent all summer reenacting his adventures?”
“I remember stealing all the curtains and building a giant fort in the dining room.” The servants had complained, but their father just laughed and let them keep it up.
Sornjia nodded. “Well, remember what happened in the Gojuri tree?”
Tahki frowned. He remembered climbing the tree, thinking he could swing from branch to branch. Only the trees in the palace were thin and brittle. Most of the trees in Dhaulen’aii were. He’d climbed high, and a branch gave way. Sornjia had been standing beneath him and broke his fall. He’d ended up with a twisted ankle, Sornjia a broken arm. If his brother hadn’t been there, in that exact place at that exact moment, Tahki’s head would have split open.
“I know you don’t like the way I speak,” Sornjia said. “But sometimes I get these feelings, and I don’t think words are meant to describe them. Sometimes… sometimes it’s like I’m standing on the face of the sun looking down at everyone, and I can see the whole world all at once, so it’s easy to understand what’s about to happen.”
“And you think something bad’s going to happen at the castle?” Tahki said.
Sornjia shook his head. “No. I think something bad has already happened.”
Tahki sighed. “Are you ever going to be normal?”
Sornjia shrugged. “Will the moon ever give light to the sun?”
Tahki pushed off the couch. “I need to borrow some socks. After all the walking yesterday, I wore a hole in mine.” He entered a small room to the right of the kitchen as Sornjia returned to the dishes. The space was only large enough for a small bed and a dresser, but Sornjia hadn’t complained.
As he rooted through the drawers, he heard the front door open and close with a bang. Gale must have returned early from Edgewater. After collecting a pair of white wool socks, Tahki went to greet her. He reached the doorway and stopped dead.
There, in the center of Gale’s home, Dyraien stood, his eyes locked on Sornjia.
Every nerve in Tahki’s body flared up. The hair follicles on his arms rose, and his heart pumped waves of anxiety through him.
He darted back inside the room, praying he hadn’t been seen, and peeked around the edge.
Sornjia turned, a dish in one hand, rag in the other, and stared back at the prince.
“Tahki,” Dyraien said. His voice sounded cautious, concerned. “Why, might I ask, are you down here cleaning Gale’s dishes
