Jala's Mask (11 page)

He'd thought Jala could see through it, but he'd been deluding himself. When she put on the Queen's Earring, she put on a different mask than he did. It was her father's mask. Maybe his uncle had been right.

He took the servants' entrance out of the manor. The beach was again a long, sprawling party. The drums pounded in his chest, and the bonfires blazed tall and bright, throwing burning ash up into the sky.

There was one person he thought might still remember the old Azi and not this king he'd only just met and barely knew. But she wouldn't be out there on the beach; he was sure of it. She'd be at her mother's cottage, waiting for him.

He stuck to the shadows, though the light from the fire made it impossible to see what was underfoot. He tripped on fallen branches, stones, and a few people who'd decided to sleep off their drink somewhere dark and quiet. The village was only a short walk from the manor, one of many that dotted the coast of the First Isle. Small huts sat almost on the water, fishing boats nearby, while larger cottages sat farther back on a low hill.

More fires lit the way for him, but he didn't need them. He would have been able to walk this path with his eyes closed. His heart was racing by the time he reached the cottage's door and raised a hand to knock. It swung open before him, and she stood in the doorway, her smile bright from the distant firelight.

“Azi,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I waited for you.”

“Kona,” he said, the name he'd whispered to himself so often in the weeks before he'd met Jala.

“Why haven't I seen you at all since you got back?” Kona looked at him reproachfully. “I stayed up all night yesterday waiting for you, but you never came.”

“I'm sorry,” Azi said. “There's just so much to do. I couldn't miss the first feast, and there was the Sectioning.”

Kona pulled away from him. “And you have a wife now. Some say that the Bardo girl has hooked you, and you'll go whichever way she pulls, but I didn't believe them. I thought it must be some plan of your uncle's. I mean, you're here, aren't you?” Kona smiled.

Azi had never lied to her about anything that mattered before. It was easy not to lie when your life was simple, though. He wanted to lie now. “It wasn't my uncle's idea. He wanted me to marry a Rafa girl. He threatened to leave my side entirely. I told him he couldn't. I ordered him to stay.”

You can't stop being my uncle just because you don't want to be
, he'd said.
Not unless I say so.
The words had sounded so cold, far colder than he felt. Uncle Inas was his only family except for his mother, and she was leaving him for her Gana family in just a few weeks.

Kona spoke softly. “So it's true. You picked this girl against his will. You
wanted
to marry her.”

“I don't know. It wasn't that simple.” It had seemed simple enough on the beach with Jala, though, hadn't it? At least, it had until that night with Jala on the barge, when he couldn't stop seeing Kona's face.

“You said you didn't care who your uncle picked for you.”

I won't love her
, he'd said.
She won't mean anything to me.
So maybe he'd lied after all. Who knew that promises could turn into lies so easily? The truth seemed to change depending who he talked to, slippery as an eel.

“I can't let my uncle be king for me,” Azi said. “I have to make my own decisions.”

“What's wrong with letting your uncle help you? Even your brother needed his help, and Jin was born to be a king. You were meant to be a sailor, and that's all I ever needed from you.”

“You're right,” Azi whispered. He didn't push her away. “I love you.” He was in his brother's place, where he didn't belong. Not like Jala. Jala was raised to be a queen.
Why are you still thinking about her when you have Kona right in front of you?

“I love you,” he repeated, trying to make it sound real again. It didn't.

He closed his eyes and tried to shut out all the thoughts, the promises, the feelings he couldn't put into words. All the things that were trying to steal this moment from him.

She pulled away, as though she could sense the direction of his thoughts. “Do you love her?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Azi whispered back. “I hardly know her, but . . . I think I do. Even when she sounds like her father.”

“I see.” Kona was quiet for a long time. “Will you still come to see me? We can just talk.”

“I will,” Azi promised. But neither one of them was sure whether to believe it.

Azi didn't know how long they stood together. Only when the drummers on the beach faltered and stopped did Azi turn to go. Someone was shouting, he realized, and it was more than a drunken argument. A breeze blew in from the manor, carrying with it a strange, sulfurous smell that hung heavy in the air.

“Something's wrong,” he said. “What's that smell? I could almost believe the fire mountain was paying us a visit.” He stepped away from her. “I should find out what's going on.”

“It's probably nothing,” Kona said. She touched his arm. “You don't have to go yet.”

Azi gently took her hand and squeezed it. “I have to. I'm the king.”

Jala heard the drums out on the beach as Iliana led her down the hall and past its many windows. Azi's mother had accepted her dinner invitation. Jala could almost hear her mother saying,
A Bardo queen doesn't attend on others, she doesn't knock on doors and wait to be let in. Everyone is the queen's guest, never the other way around.

But Jala didn't want a guest, she wanted a friend. It was a lot easier to win arguments when it was only her mother's memory she had to contend with. Jala knew her mother wouldn't have thought twice about the Sectioning. She'd acted the part of a queen her entire life.
So why can't I be like that?
Jala wondered.
What's wrong with me?

“The queen is here, Lady Chahaya,” Iliana said.

“Let her in.” The old queen's voice was hoarse, though Jala thought it must have been strong once. “Sit down, my queen. Heh, it feels strange to be addressing someone else like that.”

Azi's mother sat at a square table in the center of the room. She was a large woman, but the flesh on her face sagged as though she hadn't eaten well in weeks. Only the half-grin on her face gave her any semblance of life.

“I was wondering if you'd come,” Azi's mother said. “I know how lonely it can be to find yourself among the Kayet without friends or family, but I thought you might be too proud to admit it. I was when I first arrived.” She laughed. “And now I find myself too proud to want to leave, even though I long to be with family. Remember, Queen Jala of the Bardo, a king is king for life. But there may come a time when you're no longer queen, and you'll need your family again.”

“Lord Inas said the same thing,” Jala said. “Though I think it was more of a threat.” She looked down at her food. “I'm sorry, you're still grieving. I shouldn't have intruded on you with my problems. Things are probably hard enough for you without them.”

Azi's mother snorted. “I'm alone on an island filled with Kayet who no longer give a whale's ass about me, and because I'm in mourning I'm not supposed to go anywhere or do anything. Any break from routine is welcome. And I'm curious to meet my replacement, especially after the trouble you caused at the Sectioning.”

Jala's face grew warm. “I did what I had to do.”

“You never have to do anything, my queen.” Azi's mother emphasized the title, as though they both shared some joke together. “If you let them, they'll be more than happy to keep you safe and sound through all the dinners and dances and meetings. Your presence isn't even required at the Sectioning, you know. You'd never have to say or do anything except what's most polite and pleasing.”

“I'm not just a pretty decoration for the throne room.”

The woman shook her head knowingly. “Of course you don't think you'll be anything of the sort. But what about a year from now? Five years? What about when you're tired, tired of fighting, tired of making mistakes? And you will make them, I promise. Then, oh, then you'll be tempted to close your eyes and let the Kayet do your talking for you.”

“Is that what you did?” Jala asked.

Azi's mother chuckled. “Eat your food, little queen. A full stomach doesn't sour, not even when talking to a bitter old woman.”

Jala ate, glad for an excuse not to talk. Lady Chahaya, too, was silent for a while. Outside, the distant drums beat slow and steady. Eventually Jala said, “Tell me about Azi.”

Azi's mother set down her fork, the meat still on it. “I can't tell you anything you won't find out soon enough. Nothing that would help you understand him. Some days I think I hardly know him myself. He spent so much time at sea.” She looked up. The sardonic smile had vanished from her face. Without it, Jala could see how old and tired she really was. A woman who'd recently lost a son, a husband, and a throne.

“One piece of advice. The most important I can give you. The most useless. Don't have a son. A daughter is useless to the Kayet. A daughter carries your name. But any son you bear is Kayet first and foremost.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. She wasn't looking at Jala anymore but past her. “I tried the herbs and the secret dances to make sure I never had a boy . . . well, you see where that got me? I've heard such magic exists on the mainland, but magic is a lot harder to steal than gold and swords and silk. Besides, what man wants to steal such a thing? No matter that they are ruled by their mothers and their queen, that there are women fighting beside them, they all still hope for sons. Pompous, self-obsessed fools.”

“You're right,” Jala said. “That is pretty worthless advice.”

“I think you really might be as dangerous as Lord Inas says,” Lady Chahaya said after a while. “But not for the same reason.”

Jala was trying to figure out if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment when the drums outside stopped. The silence hung heavy in the air, only to be broken by shouts a moment later. She went to the window to see what was happening. A heavy fog lay on the water. It seemed to glow with its own light, and strange shadows moved slowly inside it.

“Put out the candles,” Jala whispered. Behind her the candles were snuffed out one by one, then Chahaya came to stand next to Jala.

“Those aren't shadows,” Jala said, squinting. “They're ships.”

Ships made out of brown wood instead of gnarled gray reef, ships without mast or sail. They were flat-bottomed, like barges, completely unsuited to face the waves of the Great Ocean . . . but the ships didn't touch the water at all. It was the fog itself they traveled over, quiet and steady. There was no one on the decks that she could see, but the ships were tall and wide, with plenty of room below deck for . . . who? The fog rolled out over the beach.

Azi's mother sniffed the air. “Can you smell that? It's sorcery,” she said.

The lead ship didn't slow, and Jala heard more shouting as the ship beached itself. A shiver ran up Jala's spine. “I think it's an invasion.”

Jala smelled the magic now, an acrid smell that burned the back of her throat. How else could anyone have reached their islands without grayships?

Her dinner sat heavy in her belly. She touched the Queen's Earring, running her fingers over the rough surface. Its weight wasn't reassuring now. It was a reminder. It was responsibility.
I have to do something. It's my job now.

“I have to find the king,” Jala said. “Excuse me.”

Chahaya nodded, glancing outside again. “All this time I tried to convince myself death wouldn't be a relief, and now it looks like I might die anyway. Ha! Might as well go with a full stomach.” She sat down again and continued her dinner.

In the hallways, servants and nobles all ran through the halls, crowding to see out the nearest windows.