Home > Cast in Firelight (Wickery #1)(16)

Cast in Firelight (Wickery #1)(16)
Author: Dana Swift

   “All right,” she agrees.

   Exactly sixty seconds pass before Riya slowly slides into “So, what was he like?” Her voice is curiosity mixed with disbelief, a tone children use when they see my dad fire off his magic at the Festival of Color.

   “Who?”

   “Who else? Raja Jatin.”

   “Oh.” I resettle on Hubris and look toward Mount Gandhak. He must surely be there by now or very close. “What you would expect: cold, arrogant, and quite tall…”

   “Annnd?” Riya drawls.

   “And what?”

   “And what? Are you kidding me? And, did you like him? Did he seem to be a good person, a good match, a good anything? Give me something of substance here.”

   “I shouldn’t fret over boys, an older, wiser friend recently—”

       “Oh, come on.”

   I sigh and let the wind talk for me for a minute. Finally, I twist to face her. “The truth is I don’t know, Riya. Both he and his guard had no idea it was me they were talking to, but considering they thought I was some East Villager, they didn’t treat me badly. The guard was easier to read and seemed friendlier. He…well, he carried me after I burned out.”

   “He picked you up? Like carried you in his arms?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Blood, you must have hated that.”

   “It was horrible and not so bad at the same time.”

   Riya shoots me a weird look, one that signals she wants to crack open that answer and get to the bottom of my emotions. But I can’t reason out how being held was both embarrassing and nice in its own regard. I yank myself from the memory. I shouldn’t be thinking of Jatin’s guard or the warmth of his arms wrapped around me. So I focus on Jatin. He had seemed so…I search for the word. Controlled? Calm? Then the right word slaps me in the face and I offer it to Riya in sacrifice.

   “Raja Jatin seemed unfeeling.”

   “Unfeeling?” She pauses, mulling over the word like I did. “Huh, maybe that is a good thing.”

   I laugh bitterly. “I should be happy to marry a cold and unfeeling man?”

   “He didn’t know who you were, right? It’s good he wasn’t too friendly. You are Gods-blessed beautiful and he didn’t do anything, didn’t care.” She stresses the last word, and I finally latch on to her logic.

       “You interpret this as loyalty to the engagement or his faithfulness to…the real me?”

   “Well…yeah.”

   I guide Hubris closer, lean in, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s a whole lot of assumption for someone who doesn’t even like men.”

   Riya rolls her eyes. “Don’t be jealous, Adraa. We can’t choose who we are attracted to.” Isn’t that the truth. As a royal, there isn’t much of a choice of who I could marry, much less who I’m attracted to.

   I snap my fingers. “Perhaps his unfeeling demeanor means he wasn’t attracted to me? Maybe he thought I was ugly.” I laugh and cannot seem to stop. That would truly be something incredibly ironic. After all these years of stress and rivalry, it comes down to Jatin simply shaking his head and walking away.

   “Please, get ahold of yourself.”

   Hubris sways with my laughter. “Imagine Jatin objecting to the blood contract because he thought I was hideous.”

   Riya makes a show of looking me up and down. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.” She huffs and grips her skyglider tighter. “Besides, it’s a positive assumption, and I need positivity. I want to keep my job, and that means one day living in Azure Palace. I would like to think I will serve a good raja, just as I serve a good rani now.”

   The raw compliment settles my laughter and I hiccup into silence. Riya was always supposed to be my guard and accompany me to Azure Palace. Mr. Burman had been priming her for it. If this were seven months ago, I would make a joke about her assumption that she can keep her job after failures like today, but I hold back. I like to poke Riya, but I love her too much to slap.

       “Thank you.”

   The concept of attraction sticks to me as we land, latch our skygliders, and walk to the grand hall. I’m throwing open the doors and all I can think is, what if Raja Jatin could look beyond our past and really get to know me?

   Father’s voice knocks me out of my thoughts. “Behind schedule again? That’s my girl.”

   He’s at the head of a long table, surrounded by what he dubs his second family. I’ve grown up seeing our advisors. But today it is a small counsel, and the five chairs for the Belwar rajas remain empty. Riya’s mom, head of security, sits to the right of my father with her usual elongated frown. That frown embodies her entire demeanor. A couple of the guardsmen are here, including Hiren, Prisha’s guard. Willona and the cook, Meeta, have both awkwardly taken seats too, which means it is a palace security meeting.

   I go tongue-tied. Riya was right to question me about my father before, because what am I going to tell him? Sorry, Dad, but did you realize your friend Basu is a lowlife who sold my product to the Vencrin? Even worse, how do I indicate how bad this is without telling him how I know about a cage caster named Nightcaster?

   I take a deep breath. “I need a private audience.”

   Father tilts his head. “Serious as dawn or dusk?”

   I smile at his code. “Duskish,” I twist my hand side to side. “We aren’t in the dead of night yet, but…” I hold his green eyes, trying to convey what has happened with only a look.

   “Well, then.” He turns to his companions at the table. “Everyone please leave. I need…”

       He looks at me expectantly.

   “Five minutes,” I supply.

   Willona and Meeta tumble from their seats thankfully. They tell me they hate these meetings so much because they don’t want to imagine a harmful spell sealed in any of the letters sent to the palace, or a poisonous potion that could lace our porridge. They don’t want to think about treason and murder. Well, I’m going to have to tell Father about Basu’s betrayal. Maybe he’ll be readier than I was, since he has been contemplating people trying to kill him all morning.

   Riya’s mom lingers outside the door and stares Riya down. The real interrogation will be later tonight, for my friend. I wish I could squeeze her hand or apologize. I understand Mrs. Burman’s paranoia and worry for her daughter, but that critical gaze is why I can’t confide in my best friend. It’s my only real reason to dislike her mother, but it’s enough. I can’t trust her because she can’t trust me. And around the circle we go. Mrs. Burman finally steps out. Gods, every move she makes is so dramatic.

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