“You see the thanks I get for all my hard work?” Mery called out to the group. “How veryrude.” He gave her a playful nudge before turning to the others to accept congratulatory pats on the back.
Sita’s head swam. She’d gotten used to being intoxicated, so much so that being sober had become too awful to bear, but there was something about the goose’s soft, heavy corpse and the constant sway of the anchored ship that made her queasy.
I won’t have any more to drink, she thought, knowing it was a lie.
“I don’t like it either, See-see,” said a small voice. Sita turned to find Maet clambering up to the prow, her black braid swaying with the movement. She clung to Sita’s side, scowling at the dead birds. “I liked them better when they were up in the sky,” she said, pouting. “Now they’re all broken. Mamet says if I break my toys, I won’t get to play with them anymore.”
“That’s true,” Sita agreed. “If we love our toys, we should take good care of them.”
At this, Mery returned to them, tickling the little girl under the chin. “Ah, but you’ll like these geese very much when Cook roasts them up for your supper tonight, won’t you, little kitten?”
Maet giggled, then gave a weak smile.
Sita studied her. “Are you feeling all right, Maet? You look a little pale.”
Maet shrugged. “My belly hurts. It’s been hurting all the time. Mamet said to come breathe the air from the river. She said that might make me feel better.” She leaned her head on Sita’sshoulder. Then something caught her interest.
“Are you playing Mehen?” she called out to one of the young men on the lower deck. “I want to play! I want to play!”
She dashed over to the table where the boys were setting up the game, and Sita watched her with longing. Sita had always been in such a hurry to leave childhood, to dive into the adult world headfirst. But ever since she’d done it, since she’d reached the deepest waters and saw what lived at the bottom—she’d felt like she was drowning. She’d give anything to go back in time to those blissful, innocent days. She’d give anything not to carry the burden of knowledge on her shoulders…
Sita reached down to retrieve her cup and hefted the wine jug in her hand. Empty.
How many days until Father dies?
The thought came unbidden.
Four? Five?
Spilled wine had dried on her fingers. The stains looked like blood.
One?
She stood abruptly and went to the little table that held a plate of food and a jug of fresh water, and poured the water over her trembling hands until they were clean. That done, she turned to watch Mery. He’d poled his skiff back to the edge of the reeds and was waiting for the men trudging through the marsh to drive more birds in his direction.
Things will be better when Mery is on the throne, she told herself. This was her conclusion after days and days of internal struggle—and she felt comforted by it. Mery was always right and she trusted him. Why should that change now?
She watched him hold his hunting stick aloft with perfect stillness. He was the image of a king in his prime, a man who could command a kingdom, lead an army, bring an enemy to his knees.Their father couldn’t do any of those things.
What Mery was doing was distasteful, yes, but wasn’t it also necessary? In essence, he was putting the welfare of the Khetaran people above the life of one man, even though that man was his own father—and the king. Such an act took courage, and wasn’t that the sign of a mighty leader? Looking at him, it was easy to believe that Merywouldlead Khetara back to greatness. She must not do anything to threaten that future. She, too, must have courage.
Sita told herself these things, and she almost believed them.
Taking up a plate of food, she walked to the edge of the boat and sat down, trailing her toes in the water. She bit into a fresh fig and gazed down into the river, where white and orange fish swam just under the surface. Sita was relaxing there, eating and listening to the gameplay behind her, when suddenly all the fish scattered.
A dark shadow filled the water beneath her feet.
She stopped chewing.
“Mery.”
Her brother didn’t hear her. One of the men who’d been wading through the reeds had gone out to speak to him.
“Perhaps we should move on, my prince,” the man said, standing waist-deep in the water. “I’m afraid there are no birds left in this area.”
“All right,” Mery replied. “We’ll make one more stop before heading home.”
Sita scooted back and set her plate on the deck. “Mery…” she said again, louder this time. The shadow was moving toward her brother’s skiff, growing larger as it rose to the surface.
