The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

12.2

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They were only half way across the bridge when she saw it: the great capradon of Surikhand, waving in the night breeze. Isla stumbled at its sight. The basket in her hand swung, souvenirs scattered onto the stone sidewalk. Tam Mai clamped her rolled canvas under her arm and kneeled to collect the gifts they had purchased for Yui.

What's a royal Surikh vessel doing in Momuji? It was berthed on the Tanmoji side, evenly paced with armed soldiers from deck to dock. Her heart chilled. Could it be Tempestorm?

No—the ambassadorial vessel had a monumental figurehead this ship was noticeably without.

Isla approached the railing for better view, but it was too dark to catch its name. Most visible were two flags, hoisted one across the other on the highest mast, catching enough light from the bridge to reveal their designs. One bore the Tsun spider hibiscus, the other a silver and blue lotus mandala that Isla vaguely recognised.

Reijyr smite me, I should have paid more attention to Master Chendra's lessons! She beat her head with a fist, forcing herself to remember ...

'What are you doing, Eldest?' Tam Mai grabbed her arm, eyes narrowed in anger.

'Nothing. Come, we should hurry before it gets too dark.' Isla tore her eyes away from the ship and hurried past her sister, who remained rooted by the parapet. 'Tamma?'

She did not respond.

Isla reached for her shoulder, feeling a slight tremor. Tam Mai still watched the ship, face paling under the low moon. 'Tam Mai!'

Boots clopped on the roadway. A man peered out of his palanquin.

Isla lowered her voice. 'Listen to me. You remember what Eshe taught you. You can handle this.'

Tam Mai closed her eyes, opened them slowly. She turned, took in the sight of the bridge. That's a good girl. Stay here. Stay grounded.

She waited, Tam Mai's hand in hers, as her sister saw and felt and listened to the world around them.

People passed, more stared out their litter at them. Perhaps they looked like fools, standing in silence in the middle of a bridge, but Isla could not care less. The wind was cold and full of salt, the smell of the sea rose from the harbours below.

Tam Mai's hands unclenched. Isla hugged her. 'Feeling better?'

She felt the shake of her sister's head. 'I don't think so.'

'That's all right. You're still here. I'm proud of you. Here, let me carry those for you.' Isla took the canvas and souvenirs from Tam Mai. Her hands free, Tam Mai tapped the parapet as they walked. Her fingers brushed the cracks in the stone, played over ridges and sharp edges.

Noi would have a fit. Their handmaid would be all over her with a bowl of soap and boiling water. 'Don't even think of touching dinner with those hands,' she would say.

But her sister had forgotten about the ship and the vaguely familiar crest hoisted on its mast, and to Isla, that was all that mattered.

  
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It helped to play with Tam Mai's hair; kept the nightmares at bay. So Isla sat by her side and gently massaged coconut oil into her scalp until she fell asleep. Hours passed before Tam Mai's heavy breaths turned into a peaceful, quiet snore.

The room was musky with the scent of coconut. Isla wiped her hands, flexed her numbed fingers, and carefully lifted herself off the floor. She opened the window a crack, breathed in the fresh, night air. Cold wind brushed against the paintings Tam Mai had left to dry—the bamboo forest in matcha green, Momuji Castle behind a coat of mist, a half-drawn portrait of Eshe with butterflies in her hair ...