The first time she came to Kathedra, she had entered through the western gates, carted in on the back of a wagon, lost and frightened and knowing nothing.

How things have taken a drastic change.

Now she came rolling in a carriage of silver and blue, escorted by at least three dozen soldiers. Not quite lost, a little less frightened, and knowing a lot more than she did before. The northern gates looked just the same as its western brother, but that day people crowded the roads even outside the city.

News of Rajini Dhvani's capture had arrived long before they did, and people had camped out to witness Kiet's victorious arrival, waiting miles outside the gates. Isla spotted tents in the distance, trampled bedrolls on the grass, trails of smoke over dying campfires ...

'It's a bit over the top, don't you think?' Isla muttered, forgetting that her sister was ignoring her. Weeks of travel, confined together in a small carriage, and still Tam Mai had not gotten over her surliness.

Luckily Taeichi shared their carriage. 'People like a heroic tale, and what your maharaj has done makes for a good one. They want to be part of it.'

Cheers filled the air, penetrating even the thick glass. They had finally come upon the first line of campers, the crowd growing progressively more dense and excitable the closer they drew to the gates.

A blur of green and yellow bounced against the windows. Tam Mai flinched, shirking tighter and tighter into her little corner. People were showering the procession with golden rice stalks—the Surikh symbol for success and victory, though they fell upon their carriage with a whipping noise more suggestive of failure and punishment.

'Bet Kiet's regretting his choice of travelling on horseback,' said Isla, hoping to distract her sister. 'What a huge showboat. Stretching his legs. As if there's any difference between sitting in a carriage or on the back of a horse! Did you know his carriage is lined with actual silver? And now it's riding empty. What a waste.'

'I cannot blame him too much.' Taeichi shrugged. 'I would prefer riding myself.'

'There'll be time to strut around the city once the people have calmed down,' said Isla, her eyes out the window. Everyone's attention were directed at either the front of the procession—led by Kiet and his captain—or toward the very back, where a half dozen soldiers rode alongside a rune-enforced prisoner's wagon.

'I will need a guide, until I learn your language.' Taeichi was taking her suggestion far too seriously to her liking. He turned to Tam Mai, smiling. 'Perhaps Tam Mai-uchi would join me. I can teach you how to ride, if you like. You are doing well with the basics of self-defence; riding lessons will only complement your form.'

Tam Mai only blushed and gave a shadow of a nod. Isla did not understand it. Taeichi had a way with her sister that no one else did. He managed to appease her back on the ship, have her confess that she wanted to stay with Isla—even if that meant returning to the Grand Palace—and all that without using his theurgy. His offer to teach her the Refined Arts was met with bashful interest, but Tam Mai had asked for lessons the moment they stepped foot on Surikh land.

Even now as they rolled through the city gates, she cycled through the four balancing hand motions Taeichi had taught her.

The noise outside became overwhelming. Soldiers fenced them from the bulk of the anterior ring: bodies pressed close like packed sardines, children sitting on their fathers' shoulders, women screaming, waving their shawls in the wind, unmilled rice splattering above them like rain, and the sudden onslaught of refuse—tomatoes, eggs, broken sandals—finding their way onto the prisoner's wagon.

'The late Rajini Amarin must have been popular with the people,' mumbled Taeichi.

Isla glanced at her sister through the corner of her eye, but Tam Mai was deep in her meditation. 'Sadly popularity does not speak for quality.'

'How does that speak of your maharaj, then? Just listen to them, calling his name.'

Like a god. 'It's good. This is good. We could use it.'

'Only with a willing participant.'

'I'll figure it out.'
   

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For the first time in her life, Isla was glad to enter the palatial ring. The people here did not cheer nor shower them with grains. Soldiers stood at attention along the walls and training fields, palace servants and dhayang watched silently between the banyan trees hedging the path beyond the five-arched gates. Kiet entered through the middle gate, his guards flanking in through the second and fourth.

'First gate for servants and baseborn,' Master Chendra had taught her. She found herself repeating the lesson to Tam Mai. 'The second gate is for palace guests, fourth for royalborn, and fifth for the nobles,'

And the central gate reserved for the Maha Rama and his heirs.

Isla combed through the crowd as she walked, wondering whether she would catch a familiar face. But of course not—Tran would have been long sent to the Water Palace, Phrae by now married and perhaps even well on her way to becoming a mother. As she always wished.

As for Rinju ...

There were a few children among the spectators, but none she recognised.

Isla could not look for long. The scene before her opened as Kiet and his men dropped to their knees. She rapidly followed suit, dragging Tam Mai down with her. They had reached the end of the path, and waiting upon the courtyard before them was the Maha Rama, standing under the shadow of the Grand Palace that fanned out over a tower of steps behind him.

'Maharaj Kiet of House Ametjas.' He held out his hands, beaming ear to ear. The expression was ill-fitting on his face. 'Home at last.'

Isla sniffed under her breath. And thus the prodigal son returns.

She peeked over the hunched soldiers at the line of royalborn accompanying the Maha Rama. His Rani was beside him, slender and fragile, just as old as her husband, and upon his other side stood the crown prince. The rest were a train of faces in a blur of House colours. Isla recognised Kiet's lotus mandala, but not the girls who wore them. No doubt they were his sisters—she caught the resemblance in their smiles and playful eyes—and Kiet's bird landed to prune at their feet. They looked itching to pet it were it not for the Rama's restraining voice.

'How mine heart swells with pride. Two long winters well-nigh have you tirelessly devoted, to seek and return the Honourable Consort into our safekeeping once more. Now come you not only triumphant, but bearing the seeds of an alliance so mighty, even the depths of the Kapuluan Raja itself would tremble!'

'You honour me with such a welcome, Maha Rama.' Kiet chuckled, but Isla heard the dismay in his voice. 'I was not expecting a public homecoming.'

'How can I not but allow our people this joyous occasion? Across the Eastern Isles are tales of the Emperor's daughter told; the scrutiny under which the Divine Gyok holds those who dare court her. Erelong shall the seas wash a new song across all shores, for despite years of their best and ever-increasing efforts, 'twas at length not a Porasawan prince nor the Napoan High Khan the Divine Gyok has deemed worthy, but a Surikh maharaj, swiftly come like a ghost in the night.'

Yes. How did he manage to do that?

Though—he certainly did clean up well, Isla had to admit. It was not too difficult to imagine the hanjou falling for him. He looked much better than when first Isla saw him at the Emperor's palace; especially now with Dhvani in chains and justice at his fingertips. His face was smooth and bright, radiant under the sun; his narrow eyes sharp and keen, his shoulders firm and broad with the weight finally off it—

Isla shook herself in time to catch Kiet's response.

'My Rama makes it sound a much more concerted effort than it truly was.'

'Ah ...' the Maha Rama's brows furrowed. 'Forgive an old fool, whose own heart has been disillusioned by life's ferity. You are young and ample still of romance. A wise lord would counsel against submitting to its fleeting whims, but fain am I to accommodate this one transgression.'

Kiet rose, his cheeks flushed in the full sun. 'Your blessing is a relief. I ask only forgiveness that I failed to seek it prior to my departure—truly I planned for none of it.'

'So unyielding am I a father to be incapable of allowing mine son to determine his own fate? Troublesome as oft you are, still have your decisions yet to displease me.'

Isla rose with the rest of the contingent. Was that a compliment, or were they in trouble? It was difficult to tell. Kiet's sisters were giggling, the crown prince's smile was growing more stiff by the second, and Kiet was losing patience, considering the way he tapped his fingers behind his back.

'But pray, son,' continued the Maha Rama, 'why have you not invited Hanjou Fukuse to see your home?'

'Certainly our priorities lie currently elsewhere. Once the trials reach their final verdict can we focus our full efforts on hosting the hanjou.' At that, he turned slightly and waved in the soldiers behind them.

The crowd craned in unison to watch as Rajini Dhvani was escorted up the path. She dragged her feet as she walked though no chains bound them, and her head drooped and swayed as though lost in a dream. A loud cry broke from among the Maha Rama's escorts. A woman sobbed behind her hands, another clutched her as though to keep her from falling. They wore the rajini's emblem—the profile of a capradon over a yellow upturned sickle moon—and if that were not enough to reveal their relation, their resemblance, too, was uncanny.

'How dare you restrain the Maha Rama's consort!' It was the older woman who spoke, her sister now crying openly in her arms.

'The cuff was for everyone's safety, dear sister. They negate any use of theurgy.'

'You've already drugged her!'

Isla did not miss the side-eye Kiet shot at his captain, but he shared none of the blame. 'As is common practice to keep prisoners calm and subdued. Aqhla is otherwise completely harmless in moderation.'

The crown prince stepped forwards with a sniff. He glanced at the Maha Rama, then at the rajini's daughters. 'Surely there's no need for cuffs and drugs now that you're home. The rajini is still an Honoured Consort and should be treated as such.'

Interesting. The first time he spoke, and it was to make clear where his support lay. This is the man whose birthright Kiet wants to protect?

Kiet was not bothered by the hinted opposition. He nodded at his captain, who in turn brought the rajini forward and removed the cuff from her wrist. Of course nobody protested the theurgic cuffs still linked around the silver-servant and runesmith's arms, and they remained on their knees while Rajini Dhvani was escorted before the Maha Rama.

'I hope you remember that the rajini is also a suspected regicide, nephew, thus too as such shall be treated.' Kiet kept his voice level as he spoke. 'My father taught me that nobody is above the law in this land. I assume he meant us royalborn as well when he spoke.'

'The dungeon is no place for a rajini!'

Kiet ignored the rajini's daughter and only looked the Maha Rama in the eyes, waiting for his decision.

Perhaps he shouldn't have made it such a public affair, after all. But it was more than the scrutiny of the servants and soldiers and dhayang and visiting nobleborn around them; it was the Maha Rama, still high on the prospect of a marriage with the Divine Gyok, still softened with pride and obligated to follow his loud acclaims through with a suitable reward.

'We shall for this occasion allow use of the palace prison,' he said at last. 'There at least will she remain isolated from the more unsavoury that our dungeons have to offer.'

Of course. Gods forbid the queen-killer must share a cell with a petty thief.

'Thank you, Rama. A just compromise as ever.' Kiet bowed, the Maha Rama nodded, the crown prince stiffened, smile plastered back on his face as though chiselled there.

     
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☆ this chapter is dedicated to sweetingsblush ☆

Video: Michael Ghelfi Studios
Image: Original artists unknown

Welcome back to Kathedra! Part Two of Kiet + Isla's adventures are just about to begin . . . do you have any guesses (or expectations) of what's up ahead for our two protagonists?

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