Song of the Abyss Read online

  Reyna offered the only words that came to mind. “It was a pretty bird.” Lame, useless words.

  Ana-si’s face was half lost in shadow. “Do you have family?”

  Reyna sat beside her. “An uncle. And I have friends who are like family.” Blaise and Jaime. Lord Elias and Mercedes.

  “No one else?”

  “No.” Reyna brought her nails close. They were encrusted with dirt. She did not like to talk about the rest of her family. “Do you?”

  “Yes,” Ana-si said, but her voice had turned to prickles. Reyna did not press for more. They sat for a time in silence. The grove was situated on a small rise behind the women’s quarters. All but one of the windows below were dark. Most people would be at supper still.

  Ana-si pressed a hand to her ribs as though they pained her.

  Reyna could stay quiet no longer. She had to try, prickles or not. “You’re hurt,” she said.

  Ana-si dropped her hand.

  “Prince Levi’s healer—”

  “No.”

  “Blaise is gentle and kind,” Reyna persisted. “She might not be able to fix what is hurting you, but perhaps she can. And she would never cause you more pain than you’re already—”

  “No one can help me, Reyna-si. I am beyond healers.” Ana-si rose, dusted herself off. She turned away, then turned back. “Thank you for the bird,” she said, and made her way down the hill.

  Twenty-One

  “WELL, THAT WAS the strangest supper I’ve ever attended,” Levi commented.

  It felt wrong to smile. Reyna could not help it. They were in yet another courtyard, this one outside Levi’s chambers. The moon was high, and the torches spiked into the ground helped keep the darkness at bay. Reyna sat across from Levi, her supper plate pushed aside, replaced by parchment and inks. Anyone passing through the covered archways would only see the foreign prince dictating letters to his scribe in the late hours of the night. But Levi had brought her outdoors because it was the one place they could be certain no one would overhear their conversation. They had both grown up in castles. A castle without a peephole or a hollow wall was simply not a proper castle. Samuel and Hamish stood guard by a pillar.

  Reyna reached for a quill before deciding on a stick of charcoal instead. “It was horrible.”

  “Oh, it gets worse. I found out why Jian-so was disinherited.”

  Reyna glanced up. “Why?”

  Levi’s answer was to crook two fingers at Benjamin, who was playing chess with Blaise at a nearby table. The boy made his move on the board—Blaise groaned—and then came running. “Tell her what you heard,” Levi said. “About Jian-so.”

  “It’s because of the scars, miss.” Benjamin reached over and righted a torch that had begun to tilt. “One of the other pages told me that after the pox, the king took one look at the prince’s face and fell right over.”

  “Seizure,” Levi clarified.

  “He hasn’t left his bed since,” Benjamin said.

  “Ken-so was next in line for the throne,” Levi said. “They summoned him from the provinces and named him crown prince in Jian-so’s place. Being so far away from the city, he and his wife and son had escaped the pox.”

  “But . . .” Reyna could not take it all in. “You’re saying Jian-so was disinherited because his father thinks he’s ugly?”

  Levi looked just as flabbergasted. “Samuel heard the same,” he said. “There are others in the palace with scars. Noblemen and servants. But they’re not allowed in the king’s presence. He refuses to look upon them.”

  “Even his son?”

  There was laughter at the other table. Hamish was keeping Blaise company. At Benjamin’s wistful look, Levi sent him back to the game. “Jian-so is the exception,” Levi said. “Samuel heard he’s been trying to find a way back into his father’s good graces ever since.”

  It’s a gift for Father, Jian-so had said of the clay. Reyna felt an unexpected sympathy welling up inside her and clamped down on it, hard. Jian-so was a kidnapper, a murderer, a brute. Still. “Is the king crazy?”

  “I’m starting to wonder if the entire family is. It’s nothing new, is it? The old woman you spoke to on del Mar. Didn’t she say something similar?”

  The royal family of Miramar values beauty and strength above all else. My father made it so I was no longer valuable. The memory of Niemi-si’s words sent a shiver down Reyna’s spine. “I’d forgotten.”

  “Whatever anyone’s appearance, it’s moot. I don’t think Jian-so intends for his cousin to live long enough to sit on any throne.”

  “Ken-so doesn’t seem like an easy person to kill.”

  “No,” Levi agreed. “What a family! And I thought mine was troublesome.” He slouched in his chair, dropped his chin on his hand, and said morosely, “That’s not all. There are no slaves in Miramar, Reyna. There never have been.”

  Reyna was quiet. The news did not come as a complete surprise. There had been no mention of slavery in her book. She had hoped it had simply been something the author had chosen not to record. “Then . . .”

  “Then why did Jian-so take our men in the first place? What purpose could they serve here? If they’re here at all.”

  “They’re here, Levi,” she insisted, because she could not bear the thought that they were not. “It only means we don’t understand why they are.”

  “Mm,” he said again, which could have meant anything. Eyeing her unfinished supper, he said, “Are you done there?”

  Her appetite had vanished since burying the cardinal. She nudged the plate toward him.

  Levi said, “What about Ana-si? That was an awful business with the bird.” He speared a piece of meat with her knife, then stopped and took a closer look. “What is this?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Quail.”

  More bird. Grimacing, Levi set the knife aside.

  Reyna told him all that she had learned, beginning with Ana-si arriving in Miramar in rags.

  Levi interrupted once, incredulous. “You learned all this at the baths?”

  “It’s the best place to hear things.”

  Levi opened his mouth, closed it. “I won’t ask why,” he decided.

  Reyna’s smile faded when she spoke of Ana-si’s suspicion: that Reyna was lying about being from Lunes. “What are we going to do? If she tells that wretched Jian-so, we won’t be safe here.”

  “We’re not safe here either way.” Levi picked up the knife again and twirled it absent-mindedly between his fingers. “She seems to like you. We’ll have to hope she keeps her promise. I’ve been invited to tour the royal tombs tomorrow.”

  Reyna picked up her charcoal. “That’s a strange thing to show a guest.”

  “I thought so too. Jian-so said he wanted me to see how they’re using our clay. What are you doing?”

  Between them was a bowl filled with water. Three chrysanthemums drifted within, freshly plucked and fully in bloom. The bowl was high enough and large enough that he could not see what Reyna was scribbling across the parchment.

  “Pretending to be your scribe,” she answered without looking up.

  “Let me see.”

  She refused. “It’s not finished.”

  He held out a hand.

  This time she looked up, cross. “I’m not really your servant, you remember.”

  “Give it over.”

  The instant the parchment left her hand, she wanted to snatch it back. Too much of her heart lay exposed there. What had she been thinking?

  It was a sketch of Levi in the Truthsayer’s forecastle, palms flat on the table as he studied the chart before him. She had drawn him in a three-quarter profile, showing the curve of his lips, a straight nose, eyebrows lowered in concentration. Reyna watched him study the sketch for a long time. Red slashed his cheekbones.

  He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he spoke quietly so the others could not hear. “This is how you see me?”

  She nodded.

  His gaze returned to the sketch. “This isn’t
me. He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Levi.” She waited until he looked up again. “We’ve made it this far because of you.”

  “Not only me.”

  “You’re the captain,” she reminded him. “You take the glory and the blame.”

  He smiled briefly at that. After a long moment, in a different voice, he said, “You came all this way to find him. This Jaime.”

  “And Lord Elias.” And so many others.

  But Levi was not interested in Lord Elias. “Do you love him?”

  “Lord Elias?”

  Levi gave her a look.

  Reyna was quiet. “Do you have friends who are ladies?”

  “No.” There was no hesitation on Levi’s part.

  “What? Not even one?” she asked, nonplussed.

  “If I even speak to a female in Selene, her mother becomes . . . hopeful. My sister becomes hopeful. It’s not worth the aggravation. What does this have to do with Lord Jaime?”

  “Everything,” she said. “After I was hurt, I was in bed for weeks. I couldn’t even sit up at first. I couldn’t feed myself.” Reyna touched the scar on her chin. It was not a time she cared to think about in detail. Plenty of terrible things had happened then. But this was one sweet thing. “Jaime was there. He is always there. He read to me and he fed me. He knew I was not sleeping—I had nightmares, you see—and he would sneak back into my chamber and keep me company. And he paid the price for it the next day, because he could not stay awake for his lessons. You ask if I love him. I do,” she said, and saw Levi flinch. “The same way I love Blaise. He is my friend.”

  Levi would not look at her. “I don’t dream of my friends, Reyna.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “You said his name in your sleep. The morning I knocked on your door.” When he had discovered the ship on the mountain. His gaze hovered somewhere around her right shoulder.

  “Levi . . .”

  He stood abruptly. “It’s late. Samuel will see you and Blaise back to your quarters. Get some rest.”

  Was he really going to walk away? “Levi.”

  But he did not listen, only walked off, stopping briefly to speak with Samuel.

  Reyna gathered up the parchment and ink vials and returned them to the box. She studied the sketch she had drawn. It was not an appropriate picture for a scribe to have of her prince. Or even one Reyna should have of a Lunesian captain. By the time Blaise reached her, Reyna had torn the page into dozens of pieces and tossed them into the box.

  * * *

  Blaise waited until they had returned to Reyna’s chamber before she brought up Levi.

  “You both looked upset. What happened?”

  Reyna flopped onto the bed and stared up at the netting. A single candle lit the room. “Do you ever wish you were normal?”

  Blaise came over and flopped down beside her. Now there were two sets of eyes staring at the netting. “Am I being insulted?”

  Reyna’s smile was halfhearted. She told her all of it. When she was finished, Blaise rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow. “He cares for you. Anyone with eyes can see it. Can you blame him for being jealous? I would be seething with it, if I were him.”

  “I told him about Jaime.”

  “Words,” Blaise dismissed, and Reyna looked over, bemused. “You said the captain met him.”

  “At Vashti’s coronation,” Reyna confirmed.

  “That explains it, then,” Blaise said. “Jaime is handsome, Reyna. Unnaturally so. We both know this. We don’t even think about it anymore. He’s like one of those statues we used to ogle at the ruins. In Alfonse. Remember?”

  “You used to ogle.”

  “And he’s so charming that everyone wants to be his friend,” Blaise continued, as if Reyna had not spoken. “The captain . . . everything about him is quieter. Not less, just different. Why wouldn’t he look at Jaime and think your interest lay with him?”

  “Because I told him so.” Reyna sat up. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “When this is over, he’ll go home. I’ll go . . . wherever. He’ll find a proper lady.”

  “A normal one, you mean.” Blaise sat up too, her mouth turned down in annoyance. “You’re right: there’s nothing proper about you. You jump into the Strait of Cain to save someone you love. You sail across the Sea of Magdalen to rescue people you love. You distract lions . . . well, you understand what I’m trying to say. I can’t imagine what the captain sees in you. Idiot,” she added fondly.

  The tears were falling now, silent down Reyna’s cheeks. “He makes my heart hurt, Blaise.”

  “I know, dearest.” Blaise wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “If it makes you feel better, I think you make his heart hurt too.”

  Twenty-Two

  THE ROYAL CHAMBER reeked of death and dying. It was a dim room, no candles. A weak morning light filtered in through louvered windows. His Imperial Majesty Botan-so reclined on a bed similar to Reyna’s. Low to the floor, with gauzy curtains. His bed, however, was ten times the size of hers. His robes were white, as were his bed linens, and from where Reyna sat, off to one side in the scribe’s corner, all that was visible was a bald, shrunken head surrounded by a sea of white.

  “. . . a great honor to meet you at last,” Levi said from his position at the foot of the bed. Jian-so stood beside him, somber as he looked upon his father. Crown Prince Ken-so was alone by a window, set apart from a trio of councilors clustered near the door. All relatively young, especially for such an old king. Not one of them visibly scarred by the pox. Levi was also studying the councilors. He glanced from them to Reyna. She looked away.

  “Come . . . closer.” Botan-so’s order came in wheezes and gasps. Levi moved to the side of the bed.

  Botan-so studied Levi in silence, for so long Reyna thought he had fallen asleep. Her quill hovered over the parchment. Beside her was a Miranese scribe. An older man, bony and disapproving. Every time he looked at her, his lips pressed thinner than before and his pointy nose twitched and quivered, as if she were the cause of the chamber’s bad smells.

  Botan-so said, “I have only seen a Lunesian . . . in the histories. Drawings in the . . . margins. When I was a boy.”

  “It is the same for me, Your Grace,” Levi said with a small smile. “I had never seen a Miranese until your son visited my home.”

  Eyes like raisins glared down the length of the bed to Jian-so. Disgust rippled over the old man’s face. “You look strong,” he said to Levi. “Healthy. Like . . . my nephew there. Your father would have been pleased with such a son.”

  Jian-so did not react. Only stood stone-faced as his father showed his contempt for him in front of visitors. What sort of father thought such things?

  Levi kept his voice neutral. “I hope he was pleased, Your Grace.”

  Botan-so erupted in a fit of coughing that shook his frame and went on forever. He hacked and spat into a handkerchief. It came away thick and bloody. Reyna’s stomach churned; she could smell the sharp, coppery tang of it. Crown Prince Ken-so had spoken true: Jian-so’s father would not live to see another spring. A robed physician crawled across the wide expanse of bed coverings. Rump in the air, sandals flapping against ancient, flaking heels. He exchanged the soiled handkerchief for a fresh one. The king waved him off in irritation. The physician scuttled backward off the bed. Reyna wrote down all that she saw and heard, in Lunesian.

  Once he’d caught his breath, Botan-so said to Levi, “You have . . . family.”

  “An older sister and a younger brother. My sister, Queen Vashti, sends her greetings to you, along with her best wishes for your health and happiness.”

  “Kind . . . of her.” Botan-so closed his eyes briefly. “Ken-so will write a letter . . . on my behalf.”

  Ken-so bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.” This time, a little of what he felt showed as he glanced at his cousin, compassion in his eyes.

  Jian-so stiffened p
erceptibly. Rage flashed before he schooled his features. For some, there was no greater insult than pity. The meeting ended shortly thereafter. Reyna returned her writing materials to her chamber and changed into clothing more appropriate for riding outdoors. Then she went to fetch Blaise. They were to visit the royal tombs this morning. First the king, now the tombs. It was to be a day filled with the dying and the dead.

  * * *

  When Reyna knocked on Blaise’s door, it opened a crack. A single eyeball peered back at her.

  Instantly suspicious, Reyna lowered her voice. “What are you doing? Let me in.”

  The door opened wider. Blaise stuck her head out, curls bouncing as she looked one way down the hall, then the other. Finally, she stepped back, pulling Reyna inside with her.

  Blaise’s first words were “I couldn’t leave her like this.”

  A young woman knelt at the foot of the bed. She wore her hair in a braid over one shoulder. Protruding from her bare, elegant neck was a hideous boil the size of a plum. The woman eyed Reyna apprehensively.

  “This is Tori-si,” Blaise said in Caffeesh. “She brews tea in the kitchens. You saw her in the baths yesterday, remember? This is Reyna, Prince Levi’s scribe.”

  Reyna did not remember. “Hello.”

  Tori-si nodded and would not meet her eyes.

  “I need to lance it.” Blaise indicated the bowl and cloth placed by the bed. A needle the length of Reyna’s hand lay on the cloth. “It’s a simple thing, really.”

  Knowing it was rude but not caring right now, Reyna switched back to Lunesian. “Why do you both look so shifty about it?”

  Blaise answered in Lunesian. “It’s strange here, Reyna. The Miranese believe that any sort of disease or disfigurement”—she glanced at Tori-si’s neck—“is caused by bad behavior committed in a past life.”

  Reyna’s gaze snapped back to the boil. “This is a karmic society?”