“It was my first experience, Your Grace, so I have no past to compare, but I can say the waves matched the height of your canyons, and if it wasn’t for the skill of our captain and crew, our ship would be splintered to pieces at the bottom of the sea. The entrance to the Fade would now be very busy with a surly lot of disgruntled pirates.”
The king laughed, the sound a soft rumbling of boulders. Unlike his wife, King Anup seemed open with his energy, friendly. Which was what allowed Niya to grow her confidence to continue in what she was after.
“That is a fright to hear,” he said. “I must come to the river and see what damage still lingers on your vessel. Though my wife tells me most of the wreckage has already been repaired with the help of our people.”
“You and Her Highness have our thanks.”
“Don’t be too grateful,” tutted King Anup. “Your captain paid handsomely for the assistance.”
The old queen beside her reached over and grabbed a wrapped date off Niya’s plate.
“Mama,” admonished the king. “I’m sorry, Lady Niya; I fear my mother is quite fond of that particular snack. She ate every last one from my plate as well.”
“I eat in her lands,” said Niya. “This food is always hers to take.”
“Your flattery is wasted on her, child,” Achak explained as Niya held her plate steady so the old queen could eat a few more. “Queen Murilia hasn’t been able to hear in a decade, at least.”
“But I can still read your lips, ancient one,” croaked Murilia, eyes narrowing.
“And still keep us on our toes,” said the king with a chuckle, patting his mother’s shoulder.
“You have a blessed family,” said Niya. “Your daughter will be a great leader with such lineage in her blood.”
“Yes.” The king’s expression grew warm at the mention of his daughter. “Callista has outwitted us all on many occasions. I’m sure my wife will find herself handing over her crown soon enough and without even realizing she’s doing it.”
Niya’s nerves buzzed, seeing her opening. “I must say, in all my years gazing upon the splendor of Aadilor, I have never seen crowns as beautiful as you and your family’s. Were they forged here?”
She could feel Achak’s questioning gaze on her, but Niya kept her attention on the king, her features smooth.
“They were,” he said. “We have some of the best metalworkers in the west. Each of our crowns has been made by the Dergun family for decades.”
“How amazing. We Bassettes are no royalty, but I know my father would be flattered if I brought him home a gift made by such hands. Are the Derguns’ services only reserved for the royal family?”
“They take commission from any who can pay. In fact”—the king glanced beyond their section—“I think the wife and son are here now. I can introduce you to them later, if you’d like.”
Niya controlled her sweep of joy at finding out this information to a mere smile. “I would be forever grateful.”
The king nodded. “Of course.”
“I do love learning about such trade,” continued Niya after a moment, daring to push for more. “Metalworking is an art form, to be sure. How the Derguns can manipulate such strong material to curl so gracefully around jewels is astonishing. I truly could not stop admiring the princess’s. And that red jewel within.” Niya shook her head in awe. “I have never seen its equal in color or size.”
She was toeing a dangerous line, Niya knew, her magic awakening in her gut at her surge of adrenaline, but the king appeared an oversharer, and she didn’t have time to play a longer game. If there were extra answers to be gained, she needed to acquire them fast.
“And no matter how many more kingdoms you visit, you will not,” said King Anup proudly. “Such a stone is a rare beauty, like our Callista. And my mother, of course.”
“Your mother?” Niya tightened her grip around her plate. “Does she have a crown of it as well?” She glanced at the woman, but no such sparkling adornment sat atop her head.
“A pendant,” the king clarified before sipping from his goblet. “My mother and daughter share the same month of birth. We had the stone split to be made into a gift for each.”
A ringing filled Niya’s ears then, all her attention zeroing in on the old queen once more, searching through her many drapes of purple and orange clothes. Queen Murilia’s hair matched her son’s; long gray braids draped over her shoulders and lay coiled in her lap. But nowhere could Niya find a necklace made with the Prism Stone. Was it in her rooms like the crown had been in Callista’s? Could it truly be here? Hope began to bubble up in her chest. Please, by the lost gods, for once let everything I seek come easier.
“Of course, she lost that within a fortnight.” The king sighed.
Niya blinked over to him, feeling the color drain from her face. She struggled to keep her breathing even. “Lost it?” she asked, forcing as much of a casual tone as she could muster, when what she really wanted to do was scream and shake the old bird beside her. How could you lose it!
“Can’t recall where she put the necklace,” he explained. “Which is why you might notice she doesn’t wear anything precious now. She’d misplace it as soon as she put it on.” The king put his hand beside his mouth to hide his words. “Her hearing isn’t the only thing that’s gone. Her memory isn’t what it used to be either.”
Niya vaguely nodded, no longer listening, as her thoughts exploded into a mess of panic, hopelessness, dread.
Lost. It’s lost. She lost it.
Was this really how it was to end?
Coming up short.
Esrom handed to the wolves. Niya chained to the Crying Queen for another year, at the mercy of a pirate who would no doubt blame her for everything. The fragile peace between them shredded on the spot.
“I’m often forgetful.” Achak’s voice broke through Niya’s downward spiral. “Which is the only reason I enjoy having my brother around. He can always recall my forgotten memories.”
Niya met the ancient one’s intent stare.
“Forgotten memories are inevitable when the fountain of youth fades,” the sister went on. “And though you are still young, Niya, my sweet, you must not take for granted your fountain of youth.”
“Yes,” said Niya slowly as certain words began to click in place.
Fountain . . . memories . . .
A calm settled over her as she held Achak’s knowing purple gaze, a new plan awakening.
“This all said by a creature who never ages,” said the king. “Not that you’d be any less magnificent if you did.”
Achak smiled. “My dear Anup, since you were a young boy, you were always an incorrigible charmer.”
“How do you think I got my wife to marry me?”
“We presumed it was because of your heavy dowry.”
The king laughed long and hard. “Yes, well, that certainly helped keep her open minded to a ruffian like me.”
As the conversation continued, no one noticed Niya’s hand slip behind the old queen’s back. Her heart felt like it was pounding in her throat, her senses on high alert as she twirled her finger once, twice, thrice, before a flame flickered on the tip.
Her pulse was a stampeding beast in her veins as she smiled and nodded along with Achak’s story, which held the king’s attention, the sister shifting into her brother.
And well, no one could look away when the twins came out to play.
With a quick slash, Niya singed off a small piece of the old queen’s braid. The nub fell into her palm, and with a single fluid motion she tucked it safely into her pocket.
Her eyes darted around the veranda, seeing if any might have noticed such a small movement from her, but the space remained idly lazy. She allowed herself a sigh of relief.
Niya remained with the group for another half grain’s fall before she made her apologies and stood to leave. Before exiting, she made sure to give Achak a quick kiss of thanks on the cheek.
“Safe travels,” said Achak, now back in the form of the sister, a twinkle in her violet eyes.