❖ QUEENKILLER, KINGMAKER Book 2 ❖
A year has passed since Isla rescued Tam Mai from the dungeons, but her sister's mind is still trapped and broken. There is only one person Isla knows can help her.
Meanwhile across the sea, a prince seeks justice f...
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For days, the quake was anything anyone would talk of. The fishmongers warned of the volcano awaking, red eyes blinking open to peer at the world. Their wives told equally bizarre stories of dead fish washing ashore—things no one had witnessed for themselves, rather heard it happen to a friend's butcher's supplier or some other meaningless connection.
Isla never understood the appeal of gossip. It was, as they say, a pastime for idle hands and idler minds ... but she was hoping for some news to trickle down regarding a certain maharaj's visit to the castle.
Not that she cared much what his business was—or if truly he had come to court the hanjou. She was only concerned his presence might jeopardise her sister's treatment.
So what in all the epps was she doing in Ikidojja? In the middle of the week, no less? She had left Tam Mai in Yui's capable hands, hitched a ride on a grocer's wagon, and now found herself in front of Eshe's gate.
She would not even be home. The empath would be working right now, wherever that may be. Perhaps in the first enclosure, where Yui said the Emperor housed most of his children.
A slit on the gate slid open. Dark brown eyes squinted out at her.
'I'm here to see Eshe.'
'Obou-nue cannot entertain guests at this moment. You must come later.'
'I can wait in the social wing.'
'Impossible! The nuesae requires complete privacy for her work.'
So she sees Fukuhei-himi in her own residence? 'It's already five-bells in the afternoon! How much later do I need to come?'
The gatekeeper slammed the slit shut. Evidently it was not his problem.
Isla left, annoyed.
She could not wait until the week's end to speak to Eshe; she needed reliable information, and quickly. Eshe must know something about Kiet's visit. She often met with Fukuse-himi. The hanjou would surely mention if her father had secured an engagement on her behalf.
No! That isn't the point! Isla crept along the wall, down the deserted streets of the second enclosure. What am I doing here, slinking in the shadows like a thief? Like a lovesick child, hoping to catch a glimpse of her paramour.
Isla made a sound of disgust.
'Am I so repulsing a sight to see, damesae?'
She looked up, and there was the truth-weaver, coming up the road with his usual ring of guards. Jailors, more like.
He was dressed in official robes—the large, flowing type that looked as rich as cut gold and rippled as smooth as water when he walked. It was the first time she saw him since he walked with her and Tam Mai. So many weeks had passed, it had slipped entirely from Isla's mind until that moment.
