A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Thirty-One

I am in prison.

That is the first line of the letter that made its way in with the trading caravans. The first letter from Boaz. The only indication we've had that he's been alive.

And it's been a month since he travelled to Jiwa.

A month of my failing to guess the Dukun's name.

A month of the gods' silence. Rangda's too. We'd originally stationed a troupe of Diviners to guard the Dukun at night so that he wouldn't lose any more toes, but it wasn't necessary. Perhaps Rangda found our anxious waiting punishment enough.

A month where we watched and waited. In a state of agony. A state like death.

I am in prison. They say it's for liability.

I bite at my fist, not sure how else to keep from raging. And I'm not the only one in distress. Zahra fails to keep her face a perfect mask, clenching and unclenching her fingers like she wants to punch something. Baba Elio has his head in his hands. Ryu plucks listlessly at a stringed instrument at the crook of his elbow, the sound as discordant as our heartbeats. And Ratu, she groans and gnashes her teeth. The rest of her guards try to hold her back from yelling. Still, she goes for her walking staff.

Click. Click. Blade. Staff. Blade. Staff. Death. Waiting. War. Prisons.

"Are we quite through?" Ratu can't hold back much longer. The older woman shifts in her seat, the Dragon Veil gang relentless. "I have to attend one of my women in her chambers. Just gave birth to her fourth child, and I'm worried this whole situation is putting stress on her."

"Zahra, send a healer with fresh towels and water." Zahra nods at Ryu's polite address, rushing to go help the pregnant Jiwanese woman.

I slide into the empty space she leaves behind, feeling uncustomarily exposed without her with me. Lufti goes to guard me anyways, the bright-eyed patriot that he is. Figures that my dads wouldn't trust me alone for long. I don't know why. Rebellion died out within me as soon as I saw mothers get trampled by zealous Rahasians. It died when I confronted the goddess of time and saw how being a deity was a slow, ticking listlessness of boredom. So bored, yet still going without helping their mortal worshippers. It died when I lost Boaz. No longer bound to a job I didn't want but missing the archives all the same. Keeping the scrolls in order with Zahra. Paging through them and learning as much as I could.

But still not learning the Dukun's name.

I wanted a world without the gods or the influence of authority figures in my life, and now I have one.

And oh, how I regret it. Being alone. Without a purpose.

Congratulations, Princess Arnina. Now you're a real royal ruler. Now, you get to stay in the throne room and gnaw on your knuckles as the threat of war hangs over all your people. Now, you get to be somebody.

Scared? You should be.

"Are we ready to hear the rest of Boaz's letter now?"

I take in a deep breath. The rest of the throne room seems to inhale with me.

We wait to hear word from my poor, diplomat cousin.

To Šāhanšāh, the King of Kings, of the Empire of Rahasia...

I am in prison. They say it's for liability. Even now, a guard hovers over my shoulder. I am treated well enough, but I have fallen ill from the stress of it all.

I'm afraid word of the riots in Rahasia against the Jiwanese people there reached this kingdom. Sultan Raharjo is a good ruler in that he cares for his people first. He's like you in that way, most revered Emperor Elio.

The most excellent Sultan has given you one month's time to find the Dukun's name and execute him. He is not unreasonable. Once he learned the citizen was a murderer, he agreed that he must be stopped.

Still, the Jiwanese people require retaliation for their innocent kin's blood spilled on the Empire's streets. If you do not...

Here, the words get messy, as though Boaz is scribbling under great duress. The letter's marred by nail marks and quivering fingers.

If you do not execute the Dukun in one month's time, then the Sultan will have my head for a bargain. And it will be assumed you do not care for his people, and therefore, he should not care for yours.

It will not only be my execution, Emperor Elio, but your people's, as well.

My dearest brother and brother-in-law, you treated me like I was fully your blood. Tell the princess that I believe she is the wisest person in the kingdom, even if she struggled in schooling. Tell Ratu, Queen of Thieves, that I'm so sorry for what our people did to her.

And, most importantly, Šāhanšāh, if I am to die, tell the Empire I am sorry.

Because I, as a diplomat, have failed them.

Baba Elio hands the letter away, touching it as though it is a cursed thing. Ryu places a hand to his mouth, quiet tears dripping down his golden skin. Ratu holds him to her, breathing hard, lower lip quivering.

"Rakyat saya akan mati." Ratu whispers. "My people will die here if he brings more war upon us. The Rahasians hate us as is and call us all thieves. And if I am to be punished for my own crimes, let me be punished. I am old. I've lived long enough. But my people, my innocent people who I have ruined my own name for..."

I remember what my father told me, what seems like ages ago.

The best rulers don't win wars. The best don't even start wars in the first place.

"No one will die yet." My voice, I try to keep it low. But sound carries so far against the mosaics. The domed ceiling where the sun peeks through, a desolate thing, scorching all life from the earth. Gold upon the sands, the sands always scattering, seeking a new home. Waiting until the Empire, as Kaliya said, is forgotten in time itself. "I'm the one who failed the find the Dukun's name thus far." I look up, eyes like the sun from Elio. Hair dark and wavy, like Ryu's, a nest of softness and shadow. "Send me to Jiwa for the one month's time, to prove just how sorry you are for the riots. Have every scholar in the Empire work to find the Dukun's name."

Baba Elio and Papa Ryu look on, shock on both their faces. Ratu remains grim, considering my words in silence, her hand on her staff. An infant, crying somewhere else in the palace. A Jiwanese infant, but just as Rahasian as the rest of us. And the threat of war, always looming. Always there. Deadlier than any god, because we're the ones who make it.

"You need a Champion for this war, then I'm it." I let them stare, already retreating to some place in the back of my mind. A place of calm. A place where nothing but my own, stupid stubbornness can touch me. "And that's a gods-damned challenge."

***

Readers,

Any words for what just happened?

-Sophia