Page 69 of Falling Princess
I opened my mouth, and then immediately closed it, searching for the most compelling argument. “We’re studying comparative politics and religion, Father. The professors are curious and intelligent people who want to know more about us. I know it won’t get us the loans you wish to secure, or the weapons you want to acquire, but if we are attacked, wouldn’t it be useful to have copies of our most important texts safely stored elsewhere?”
Rohan scoffed. “Only barbarians destroy books.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Pirates, Father. Theyarebarbarians. Gleefully so, if our reports are correct.”
The reports are horrifying, what little my father is willing to share with me. They attack with machetes; they rape at gunpoint. A thirteen-year-old girl from the Grasslands was murdered in broad daylight shortly before our return.
Terrifyingly, the invaders are here, slinking about and terrorizing the population, then slipping away before we can do much to deter them. I know from Cata and Saskaya that the Council of Nobles and the Covari are gravely concerned about the threat, but when I asked to be included in the discussions, I was essentially patted on the head and told to pray to the goddess for our safe deliverance from danger.Ugh.
I’d rather know what’s coming so I can fight it, but fighting is not my role in this conflict. I am the king on this chessboard, weak but critically important.
I am tomake sure I prepare a blessing for Midsummer, and complete my annual pilgrimage to the Sky Shrine,high up on Mount Astra. The absolute worst part of being High Priestess, if you ask me.
“Besides,” I continued, seeing that my father required more convincing. “Look at what happened in Iraq. Or Bosnia and Herzegovina. Cambodia. Romania. Abkhazia. Those are only a handful of examples I can think of off the top of my head. Libraries are destroyed in war all the time.”
My father stroked his beard. “You make an excellent point, Zosia. I shall have a word with the Head Archivist.”
I exhaled and counted my blessing. Singular.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
My nineteenth birthday passed in early June with considerable fanfare. There was a celebration in The Walled City, for which I was required to make a speech from the ramparts. What a gift. At least it’s not another competition at the Colosseum, though.
There was a boring ball held in my honor, full of nobles I either barely knew or had known since infancy. I spent the entire evening repeating the same few facts about my year abroad and smiling until my cheeks hurt, then dancing until my feet blistered and bled.
Lorcan didn’t attend. There was no reason to expect him to. I looked for him anyway, and when I didn’t see him, I let myself relive that moment when he touched my lips with his thumb. A wave of longing swept through me.
I opened my eyes and resolved never to think of it again.This summer is for forgetting.
Each morning, I was prodded out of bed before dawn, bundled into a white gown and heavy gold jewelry, and brought to the effigy in the pool of the castle shrine. There, I knelt in cold water mumbling the prayers I’ve had memorized since childhood under the watchful eye of Auralian priests and priestesses, forcing me to put in a modicum of effort.
The only part that felt genuine was where I silently asked the goddess to keep Lorcan safe.
I will never admit to doing it. Not to a living soul.
After that, the day improved marginally. I changed into different formal gowns and joined my father in the throne room for a couple of hours of tedium. I think he hoped I’d find the work interesting. Instead, I grew increasingly bolder about bringing my reading for exams, which did absolutely nothing to diminish the gossip about my disinterest in being queen.
After lunch, I rode Sky around the ring for exercise.
In the afternoons, I occupied my time sorting books, cataloging titles, and coordinating a clumsy relay of phone calls and emails in a confusing blend of English and Auralian. The king wanted to personally review every book we offered, which typically went something like, “No, we are not sending the Rare Auralian Fauna reference book; I don’t care if we have four copies. The world doesn’t need to know we have dragons, and that’s final.”
Once a decision had been made, I neatly record the pertinent details of each tome in a leather-bound notebook with perfect, scrolling formal handwriting. The collection is to be a gift, with all the royal fuss and bother.
When that was finished, I retired to my private tower room and spent the afternoon on my balcony assembling Sentinel legs. This was my favorite part of the day. On her way to or from the secret bunker beneath the Sun Temple, Saskaya dropped off a new supply and picked up the ones I had assembled. Each kit she prepared for me required hours of work, which suited me fine.
The ancient parts are made from some kind of rock and metal alloy forged within the depths of the Mountain of Fire. Sas has had no success identifying it, but it’s unbreakable. Doesn’t shatter, doesn’t dent, doesn’t crack. Remarkable stuff, whatever it is.
When I was fourteen and Saskaya started letting me take a bigger role in restoring her beloved ancient machines, I moved out of the royal family’s suite—my father’s, alone, now—and into an unused tower, in search of privacy. He let me do it, since he was none too happy about all the machine parts, plants and animals cluttering up his living quarters.
The separation cut down on arguments, for a while. Cata told him I would grow out of it. I didn’t.
If anything, I doubled down. I have to be perfect whenever I leave these chambers, but here, I can be myself, to some extent. Even if that means being alone, at least I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.
The best part came when I finished assembling the leg pistons and securing them to the motor. To test them, I used a makeshift controller to march the legs around my rooms. They made an odd click-whir as the pieces contracted and expanded to mimic human steps.
I once saw a horrifying video of robotic dogs chasing down migrants attempting to cross a border in the U.S. The Sentinels are like that, only two-legged and taller. Sort of like the walking machines in that movie Bashir likes so much. Star Wars.
One day, bored and missing my friends, I decided to make a friend. I entertained myself by dressing a set of legs in one of my white ceremonial gowns and marching them around my bedroom.
