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The ocean air felt good through his hair. Kiet turned his face towards the sun, basking in its heat. 'Stay in the shade,' his mother would say. She'd walk around with an oil-paper parasol everywhere she went. 'Dark skin is the mark of farmers and fishermen, not royalborn like us.'

Had she forgotten the Tsun blood that ran through her by grace of her own mother's line? It was the only reason their skin never tanned so deep.

All day he had been hearing her voice; things he turned a deaf ear to, advice he ignored to keep the peace. Now they resurfaced, one after the other. They had annoyed him then, the same way unsolicited parental advice was wont to annoy a child—but now he wondered how they never coloured the way he looked at her. What other things had he missed due to his wilful ignorance?

A call rang from the sky. His swiftlet came swooping down, silhouetted under the glare of the sun. Kiet held out an arm just in time for it to alight, shaking the last drops of spindrift from its wings. He winced as it curled around his forearm. Its grip had grown strong, its talons much sharper and larger than he remembered.

'When under Ogbu's Great Eye did you get so big?' How was a better question, but he had little time to worry amidst everything else he was attempting to parse.

'Maharaj.' Kiet turned at the voice. Akai emerged from a cabin behind him. 'He is awake.'

Kiet found himself stalling. 'I think insects will suffice no more for this one.'

Akai looked over the bird as though for the first time. 'How much theurgy did you feed him, exactly?'

'Enough to save its life.' Kiet scratched the creature's neck. 'Though I fear it may end up taking it, too, if it grows any larger. Are swifts even aerodynamic past a certain size?'

'Aerowhat?'

'Never mind. Just keep an eye on it while I'm gone.' The bird hopped onto Akai's shoulder after a gentle prod. Kiet gave it a final pat before making for the cabin.

He entered without knocking.

If Taeichi was irritated at Kiet's sudden intrusion, he at least made no sign of it. He rose from his bed, a smile spreading across his face. The truth-weaver had washed and dressed in common soldier garbs; even then he looked like he belonged more in a calligrapher's workshop.

'It was gracious of you to allow me passage aboard your vessel, maharaj,' he said. 'And dangerous, too.'

'Truth be told, I was unaware of the arrangement until I boarded the ship myself.'

'My understanding is that I am in your service until a certain trial is held.'

'I keep no man in my service who prefers to be not. You are free to leave once we make port.'

'Even so. I gave Isla-dae my word, and I intend on keeping it.'

Isla-dae? Never mind the familiarity—she gave him her true name? 'You have time yet to consider your options.'

'You do not want my assistance.'

'Seems you're able to extract truths from one's mind as well,' said Kiet dryly. He scanned the cabin for a place to sit, settling for a chair before an empty bookshelf. 'Would you consider truth an objective fact, Taeichi-seung?'

'That is neither here nor there.'

'Humour me. If a woman believes she is the daughter of an Emperor and declares it thus, would you detect a lie from her lips when—unbeknownst to her—she had been taken from a pair of wildflowers all along?'

'If a woman was raised by an Emperor, is she not in fact the daughter of one, despite from whose seed she came?'

'Very well.' Kiet sniffed. 'And if a madman believes he is the avatar of Saegyr, despite the Wise Father himself striking him down for his blasphemy?'

'A man's truth belongs to himself, maharaj. Is that the answer you wish to hear?'

'So you admit your theurgy can only vouch for so much.'

'I never claimed to be infallible.'

Useless. If Dhvani believed his mother killed Noor and his entire family, then Taeichi could attest nothing to the truth of it. If Isla believed she was Chei's grandchild ...

But what reason would Chei have to mislead her? If she wanted heirs to present to the kingdom, she would come up with grandsons and not hide them from the world.

'You seem troubled, maharaj.'

'Observant today, are we not.'

'Forgive my further observations, but you smell like a man who questions only his own truth.'

'Are you telling me I need a wash?' I should've allowed Sindhu to draw me that bath.

'I'm telling you you smell of denial.'

Kiet raised a brow. 'Scent? That is how your theurgy functions?'

'Perhaps. I can hardly share all my secrets now, can I?'

'You'd surely fault not my curiosity, if I am to entrust Dhvani's trial in your hands.'

'Not at all. In fact I commend you, maharaj. It is a clever move, investing in this hunt for a regicide.'

'This hunt for my mother's killer, you mean.'

'Personal vendetta or no, not many royalborns would even think to bring one of their own to trial. The precedent it sets ... have you considered that?'

Kiet sneered. How could he not, when it was all his own brother and father would ever warn him of, if in not so many words. 'You think me some kind of simpleton.'

'A simpleton would not have been able to pull this off and capture a runesmith on the side. The servants say he has abducted many children from your academies. How many parents will you have appeased?'

'Are you congratulating or accusing me of something?'

'I am only impressed, maharaj, as I am sure are your people. They shall speak of you as a man who fights his own battles. A man who fights for justice. Does someone so honourable truly exist?'

Honour. Wait until he learns we drug our prisoners with aqhla.

'It does take a certain amount of humility to appreciate the power of the people—their collective voice has been known to realign succession, buttress a claimant or sink his ambitions—'

'That is not why I do this,' snarled Kiet. He was beginning to like the truth-weaver less and less, but he was more annoyed at himself for allowing the man to rile him.

Taeichi's earring twinkled in the gloom of the cabin. 'A just man with ulterior motives is still better than a selfish one with selfish motives. Have you thought on Isla-dae's proposal?'

Kiet shot a look towards the door. Light flitted between its cracks. He lurched forwards in his seat, lowered his voice. 'Isla has been lax indeed if she shared her treasonous ideations with you.'

'Isla and I share a bond you will never comprehend.'

What is that supposed to mean? Kiet's smile was wired. 'And what of you? What are your motives? What is it you want?'

'What could a man like myself ever want, maharaj? Only for the world to know the truth.'

 
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'Your mother was a liar and serial child-murderer.'

Kiet shook the silver-servant's voice from his head.

The mist thinned.

He was standing in his mother's consortial estate—a small pocket of its back garden, close to where a section of the hedgerow was weak and any of his overnight visitors could pass easily through. He followed the path down where it met their gazebo. Birds sang from its trussed roof, morning light flitted through coils of vine onto a modestly-decorated table.

And there she was—as always—sitting at the corner, facing the path, ready to spring her breakfast trap upon whichever girl attempted that morn to make her escape.

'Stay.' It was her sugared voice, her beatific smile. 'Have some tea.'

A girl rose from the mist, hair long and black, and glided wordlessly towards his mother. He could make nothing of her face, only her gait as she stepped onto the gazebo.

Isla? Kiet quickened his pace. His mother reached past the arrangement of delicacies straight for a teapot, pulled the sleeve of her robe as she prepared to pour. 'No! Wait!'

He ran, but his feet were heavy and the mist dragged him back like the cloying hands of a possessive lover. The path stretched before him, sunlight seared his skin. He fought through it all, following the sound of his mother's voice. Finally he came unto them, gasping for breath as his fingers curled around the post, except now it was Chei's gazebo, all swallowed in clematis and lavender, and it was the rajini sitting with his mother, both of them decades younger.

His mother laughed as she poured the rajini her tea. She let her sleeve drop, and with it, the contents of a deftly hidden phial. She passed Chei her cup, her laughter now sickly-sweet, echoing in the surrounding mist. Kiet covered his ears, his stomach churning with disgust.

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He woke in his own sweat, sheets tangled around his feet.

His stomach turned yet again. Kiet jolted off the bed, scrambled across the cabin and into his bathing quarters. He searched for the first available thing—a water dipper in his tub—grabbed it quickly and heaved out what little he managed to eat before he had passed out of fatigue and stress.

For a moment he knelt there on the floor. It had been only a dream, but the sour taste it left him with was all too real.

I let her get away with everything.

If he only had spoken up against his mother more often, given her a piece of his own mind every now and again ... perhaps she never would have gone so far.

His fist came flying, cracking the wooden screen that separated the bathing section from the rest of his cabin. His bird squawked in protest.

However deep their rivalry, whatever desperation led his mother to it, what she did to Chei—had she done it—was abhorrent, indefensible.

Had she done it? Kiet grabbed the edge of his tub, pulling himself up. There I go again, turning a blind eye to the obvious.

Had it been anyone but his mother, he would have closed the case entirely, circumstantial as it may be. The opportunity had been there, the motive as well. And the result—well, Chei's pregnancy with Alain had gone perfectly smooth, yet the moment Amarin entered her life, she started suffering miscarriage after miscarriage until she no longer even carried at all.

Alain. He must be meting down his vengeance upon them all—to Amarin for what she did to his mother, to Kiet for all the times he dogged him for tales of his travels. Now your daughter dogs me to commit treason. Are you enjoying this, brother?

He tried to envision his face, but all he remembered were dark eyes and side-combed hair. A slight, forbearing smile. How someone as loud, brash, hot-tempered as Isla could be remotely related was beyond him.

Gods. His stomach roiled once again. If it is true, then she is my niece.

'Maharaj?'

He peered around the screen to find Akai by the door, tailed by a handful more guards. Kiet waved them away. 'It is nothing. I slipped.'

Akai eyed the hole in the wood, unconvinced. 'In an empty tub?'

'Yes, in an empty tub. What time is it?'

'Just past afternoon five-bells.'

It's felt like days. 'Have someone fill my bath before I lose patience. And fetch me a new water dipper.'

Akai bowed out, returning shortly after only to oversee the servants who poured Kiet his bath. The water shimmered as oils were poured, its sweet scent soon filling the cabin.

'Have someone bring my evening meal while you're at it.'

'Anyone in mind?'

Whatever the man was insinuating deserved no response. Akai bowed again, a shadow of a smile on his face, and made himself scarce.

Kiet sighed in the following quiet, stripped off his night robe, and sunk into the water. He liked it hot, and the water-bearers had disappointed not. His muscles eased in the heat, his temper slowly absorbed in the cloud of steam rising around him.

He would make it up to Akai later. Perhaps new boots to replace the ones he wore out chasing Dhvani all over the rookery.

A cackling interrupted his thoughts.

Kiet looked to the foot of his tub, where a glass case had been set upon the ledge attached close to the water's surface. His servants had been thoughtful enough to leave a salamander with his fresh bath. Even now it worked to keep the water at a constant heat. It looked young in this world, and perfectly docile, which was a lot more than could be said of most household elements.

I've not seen hers at all, come to think of it. Isla's salamander used to follow her like a shadow. She must have had it returned to the Epperstrom after all. That was promising—at least she still could be reasoned with.

He had just finished shaving the stubbles off his cheeks when a knock came upon the door. He had a perfect view of it through the hole in the screen. A familiar voice called from the other side; feminine and muffled behind the thick wood.

He straightened in the water, cleared his throat. 'Enter.'

☆ this chapter is dedicated to rimmxx ☆

Video: Beautiful music is a piano rendition of 알고있지만 (Nevertheless) by 나이트오프 (Night Off)
Image: Top left image—© sarangsnap at Instagram; remaining images—original artists unknown

Hmm ... I guess Kiet isn't handling the revelation about his mother too well.

Speaking of Kiet, did you know that all the main highborn families in Surikhand are named after different gemstones? The royal Ametjas dynasty take the amethyst as their family symbol; the ancient Obusirjan line are named after the obsidian, hence their family fortress; and there's many more you may or may not catch. If you want to know more random facts like this, check out the link in the inline comment or the external link!