“Er, should you be saying that? Feels like you’re just begging for bad things to happen.”
Ira sighed. “You’re right. Nothing good comes from teasing that natural disaster, but that is precisely why it’s so hard to resist, is it not? Care for a walk?”
Maiya stood and followed—the princess hadn’t asked a question. She’d issued an order.
Sonam’s Royal Imperial Garden was almost a city unto itself. Surrounded by walls taller and thicker than the outer walls of most capital cities, it was entirely isolated, beautifully manicured… and completely empty.
“Princess? Are you sure it’s wise to climb to the ramparts?” Maiya asked, following the princess, who lifted her skirt to walk up the dozens of stairs that led to the top of the wall.
“Oh, hush. I come here often,” Ira said, huffing from the exertion. “The view is breathtaking, I promise.”
The view was incredible. The Royal Quarter’s prominence afforded a sweeping view of the whole city, which spread out beneath them like a fortress, except one that spanned all the way to the horizon. It made for a melancholic mood, which inevitably made Maiya think of Vir. It didn’t take much, these days.
Weeks had passed since Vir left. It was foolish to expect him to cross the Ash so quickly. She’d braced herself to wait months, and yet, each passing day caused her discomfort to swell. What if an Ash Biter had gobbled Vir up in his sleep when Cirayus wasn’t looking? What if they’d gotten separated and he’d lost his way? Was he roaming around the Ash, alone, at that very moment?
“Quite the view from here, don’t you think?” Princess Ira asked, the gentle breeze ruffling her platinum blonde hair. The guards who’d been stationed atop the ramparts made themselves scarce upon the princess’ arrival.
“It truly is,” Maiya replied. “I’ve never experienced a better vantage. You can see all the way out to the Gauntlet from here, and even the harbor.”
“There’s no better view in the whole city,” Ira said. “And yet, only the guards ever get to see it, though I suspect even they barely give it a passing glance. As with the castle grounds, it’s always only me, alone.”
“But so many live in the castle,” Maiya said. “How can it be so empty? I’d expect at least a few people to venture out here for a stroll?”
“Pity, isn’t it? Nobody cares. If they’re not working, dueling, or training their bodies, they’re wasting their time, apparently. Why would an upstanding Sonamite ever dawdle amid greenery or take in sweeping views?”
“Then why even have the gardens at all?” Maiya asked in confusion. It seemed like such an opulent waste, totally at odds with the Kin’jal ethic.
“Because it’s proper for a castle to have a garden. That’s all. When foreign dignitaries visit, they’ll be suitably impressed by Kin’jal’s awareness of the finer aspects of life,” she said sarcastically.
“Cast your gaze across this crown jewel of ours. What do you see?”
Maiya scanned the many tall walls, the ramparts wide enough for carriages, the warriors posted at every turn. She couldn’t see the civilians who shuffled about on the streets below—so tall were the walls.
“I see an impregnable fortress, only one that’s been enlarged to the size of a massive city.”
“Perhaps. You’re not wrong, though my eyes see differently. I see stagnation. I see a desperate desire to cling on to the only legacy Kin’jal has ever had—the strength of a bully. You’ve spent plenty of time in Sonam by now. Tell me, how many paintings have you seen, either in the castle or out in the streets? How many artists or artisans crafting exotic pottery or textiles?”
Maiya kept her silence, for she couldn’t recall even a single one.
“We have none of Rani’s arts, nor the rich history of Hiranya, and none of the sophistication of the Altani. Ours is a history of conquest—of nations shattered and assimilated, squashing what culture they once had. This empire values one thing and one thing only. Some say strength is a virtue, but even water is a poison when consumed in quantity. But what about you? A copper for your thoughts?”
Maiya thought it over. How did she feel about Kin’jal? Initially, she’d been in awe of the city and Kin’jal’s wealth, viewing the world through the rose-colored lens of a village girl who didn’t know any better. She was still impressed, but she’d be lying if she said the sheen hadn’t been tarnished somewhat.
Kin’jal was the most powerful country in the Known World in certain areas, but after having visited Rani, and even the Pagan Order, there was something lacking.
“There’s no soul,” Maiya said. “Even the strength Kin’jal’s obsessed with isn’t to better oneself or seek perfection of their art. At least, not as a goal. It’s just a means to an end. To expand Kin’jal’s power.”
“Precisely!” Ira said, clasping her hands. “’Tis the root of Kin’jali aggression. Would you believe me if I said this obsession was not organic, but a carefully crafted strategy by the Imperator to guide the country’s culture to his own ends?”
“Is that even possible?”
“Quite. Though my father is hardly the only one to blame. He’s merely the latest in a long line of torch-bearers. It begins with our education. From a young age, our schools ingrain the martial mindset, extolling our warriors, and indoctrinating children to believe the Ash’va dung that is our gods-given right to conquer the world.
“It continues in the arena. Have you wondered why all Kin’jal cities have one? Even villages have a dueling ring—centrally located—where citizens are encouraged to fight for wealth and fame.
“It culminates in our military—the ultimate success for a Kin’jal. There is no higher calling than that of Warrior, no higher station than General. I won’t lie that the policy has served the country well, but it is this exact philosophy that leads us to poke sleeping Wyrms. Our prior success in no way guarantees future victory, yet we seem to take this as a given even in the face of embarrassing losses like Banshy’s Folly and The One Day’s War.”
“I must admit,” Maiya said softly, “Kin’jal has been single-handedly responsible for ruining Hiranya.”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it, Maiya! Keep your mouth shut!
“Though I fail to see how that is a bad thing. Hiranya can burn to the ground for all I care.”
Maiya couldn’t remain silent. Her hatred boiled just as hot as it did the day she discovered Hiranyan knights had murdered her parents. Like a volcano biding its time, building pressure until it bursts. One day, she would have her revenge, and if Kin’jal helped her obtain it, she’d support them right up until the day Daha’s palace burned to ash with the vermin infesting it.
Princess Ira furrowed her brows. “I know, of course, that you came to us from Hiranya. I am not, however, aware of your history with them. If it is corruption you wish to eradicate, changing Kin’jal will uplift Hiranya as well. Hiranyan nepotism is an unfortunate byproduct of our desperate times. When they no longer have war to worry about, military resources will flow back to the country, strengthening it. Kin’jal can aid in ensuring the ascension of competent rulers from the shadows.”
Maiya balled a fist. “They murdered my parents. I don’t want to uplift them. I want to burn them.”
Princess Ira turned to regard Maiya.
Great. I’ve really done it now. Maiya braced herself for a lecture.
“Who do you want killed?” the princess asked.
“S-sorry?”
“I assume your hatred is directed toward those responsible for the death of your parents, yes? Who were they?”