A shadow swept over the field. The screaming around her tapered to a silent disbelief.

Before Isla could even blink, the shadow dove past the splitting crowd, talons outstretched, and descended upon the Rasundan tiger.

There was a flurry of feathers, screeching and roaring. A bird as large as a condor pinned the tiger against the ground, each struggling against the other. The grass around Isla parted with every beat of the bird's wings, dirt scattered with every swipe of the tiger's claws.

People were falling over themselves, struck by the sight. Even Isla could hardly believe what she was seeing.

'Horned rukh!' Finally a voice broke through the collective shock, and horned rukh it was.

There had been talk of a sighting at the Water Palace. Tales had spread how Maharaj Khaisan may have caught himself the prize of the hunt, but Kiet had caught himself a capradon.

But those were just talk. The same way they talked of Kiet beating down a whole army to capture Dhvani, or how he rose unscathed after an entire building collapsed on top of him. But everyone must know they were nothing more than exaggerated tales; things that made for entertaining tavern songs and street performances.

The bird before her was no tavern song nor street performance.

But no one's seen a capradon for over a hundred years.

What were those horns, then—sharp and thick enough to pierce through the tiger's neck if the bird so pleased?

'Nagha!' Kiet's voice roared above all the hissing and screeching. 'Enough.'

The bird trilled, gave the cat one final push, and took flight. Isla barely registered Kiet hovering behind her; her gaze was still on the capradon, flying circles around the tiger as though to mock it.

'You better learn to control your bondmate, champion, lest I revoke you your prize.' He spoke calmly and yet Isla feared him more than the tiger and its tireless growling.

'Yes, maharaj!' Its human had come closer now that the capradon was far above them. He dropped to his knees, brows against the grass. 'Please, forgive my tiger! He hasn't spent long outside the forests of Rasunda. The smell of blood still calls to him—'

'Then get him out of here.'

The man shot immediately to his feet and begged for his tiger to calm, but the giant cat only sensed more danger on its human's behalf. It snarled and bared its fangs, hackles rising. The man spluttered and pulled it back. 'Stop it, Ra'ung, please!'

Kiet twitched in irritation. 'He may be your bondmate, but you are more than its human. You are its master.' His hand dropped gently down to rest upon the hilt of his sword. 'And masters never should beg.'

Isla blanched along with the man. She remembered suddenly Tempestorm and Kiet's treatment of the marid that had been guiding their ship. But luckily the creature heeded its master's words and backed slowly away out of Kiet's presence; its human bowing and apologising until they disappeared behind the gathering crowd.

Finally Kiet crouched beside Isla. His eyes widened at the sight of her wound. 'I'll take you to the infirmary at once.'

'It's only a scratch. Looks worse than it is.'

'I see you've never had an infection before, and I liked not the sight or scent of that deer-pig.' He tore a length off the sleeve of his robe and started binding her wound.

His hands were warm around her thigh. The fabric was soft but still it stung, and the pressure did not help, either. Isla squeezed the back of his neck to keep from crying out.

Kiet sniffed. 'How is it you always manage to find trouble?'

'Trouble always manages to find me.' Isla spat between grit teeth. 'I knew the prize should have gone to the raggiana.'

'For once we agree on something.' He secured the knot and curled an arm around her, but Isla pulled back.

'I can walk.' She did not need more eyes on them. People were still gathered around them, much as Akai tried to disperse them. Most were busy gaping at Kiet's capradon to be paying much attention to Isla or Kiet, but the bird was disappearing further into the palace grounds and soon, Isla knew, they would be swarming Kiet for answers. 'You didn't tell me he was a capradon.'

'You did not tell me you were my niece,' he whispered, low in her ear.

Isla gagged. 'Don't say such things with your hand around my thigh!'

Kiet laughed and helped her to her feet. It hurt to stand, but he kept her steady. Isla looked around and found Rinju standing, uncertain, a few paces away. 'Are you hurt?' She limped toward the girl and inspected her. She was in shock—though whether that was from the deer-pig or the capradon or seeing Kiet before her, Isla did not know.

Rinju shook her head, staring fixed at the maharaj.

Well that answers it. Isla took her hand and led her across the field. 'Sorry, Rin, but the iced tea will have to wait.'

            
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The water stung, but the therapeut had said a hot bath would cleanse any remaining traces of the deer-pig from her skin. So there she was, soaking in the communal hot springs. It was a quiet, hidden place; sequestered from the rest of the palace by a dense row of tamarind and saga trees. The only other facility within the area was the royal burial grounds, so close the air was sweet with frangipani and every howl of the wind sounded like a grieving widow.

Isla shook the thought of widows away from her mind. It was dark, she was the only one at the springs, and being this close to so many frangipani trees was making her jumpy.

Gaslights hissed around her, shadows danced around the edges of the rocks. Even the light spilling from the bath house hall behind her was an eerie yellow, as though it were some sort of barrier separating one world from the next.

There I go again. Isla sunk into the water, her hair tousled and damp on top of her head. She was beginning to wish she had asked Kiet to keep her company, but—No.

The heat was getting to her head.

Isla splashed a handful of water over her eyes, hoping to wash her thoughts clean of his face, or his hands creeping up her thigh ...

Inviting him would have been a terrible idea. What was she even thinking? Even if Kiet had not promised himself to another, they both shared a paternal antecedent. He had said it himself—he was her half-uncle. It was difficult for her to see him as such, no matter how she looked at it. Unlike many other children, she had not been raised by grandparents while her mother and father were hard at work. She had not grown up with cousins around the corner, spent holidays with all her uncles and aunts, celebrated the births of nieces and nephews ...

She could at least see a little of her father in Rajini Chei. Perhaps even a little of herself. But Kiet, Khaisan, Maha Rama Judhistir and the lot of them—that she shared a quarter of their blood still sounded wild to her.

Wind rustled over the high walls surrounding her. Isla jumped at a tokey's rythmic call, rising from somewhere among the bushes.

Right. That's it. I'm out. The image of a large gecko skipping into the water like a rock was too much for her. Isla grabbed her folded towel and stepped out, the night air nipping against her bare skin before she wrapped herself up and ran into the shelter of the bath house.

The wood creaked beneath her feet, lanterns spluttered and cast looming shadows upon all four walls. Isla dried and dressed quickly, not daring to look back as she exited the women's changing rooms and crossed the long hallway until finally she stepped out of the bath house.

Isla drew a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The distinct scent of frangipani only reminded her of what lay across the small courtyard before her. Their branches hooked and curved at odd angles, and in the dark they looked like a hundred restless spirits, reaching out for any who dared trespass. Only a wooden fence separated her from the first row of trees. Paper talismans hung from their boughs and draped over the footpath. Isla dodged them as she walked, praying that whichever Ametjas predecessors nourished their roots would allow her a safe and undisturbed passage.

'She'll be soon here.'

She stopped dead in her tracks. The voice had been so faint she almost missed it, coming from the other side of the fence. It was dark and she was sheltered in the shadows of the frangipani—whoever spoke had not seen her, but were they expecting her?

Isla reached through the slit of her syarong, drawing the dagger she kept strapped around her thigh, and backed slowly, quietly away.

'And within the coming weeks will they be wed,' the man continued.

They aren't speaking of me. A little of Isla's alarm subsided, but still she was in a precarious position—listening in to a private conversation with nowhere to go but forward. Should she make her presence known before she heard something she could not unhear?

But what if it's important?

Only an Ametjas would be at the royal burial grounds, and surely only important things would be discussed by an Ametjas in a cemetery at the dead of night.

Isla hid deeper into the shadows, angling around for a glimpse of the speakers, but it was too dark to make out more than two silhouettes standing below a frangipani.

'Do you understand the position into which their marriage would place you?'

'Well, what do you want me to do about it?' Khaisan. This voice she recognised well enough. Isla could even hear the indignance growing thicker as he continued, 'Already is Jyesta as good as mine—and come the Rama's public announcement of our intended union, Kiet would once and for all remain in his place!'

Surely it must be his father beside him. 'The future Provincial Prince of Pior Lam will to the Divine Gyok be allianced, and you sit satisfied with his youngest sister?'

'What does it matter, anyway?' Maharaj Khaisan edged with frustration. 'I can as many wives take as I please!'

'What does it matter?' Maharaj Persi stepped so close, his son stumbled back. 'Did you miss the sighting at the Water Palace? or its rather heroic entry just following the tourney this morn?'

'What does his bird have to do with any—'

'His bird! A capradon, Khaisan! The very symbol of our kingdom! Already the servants whisper of the return of the Amethyst Blade. Already sees the Rama divine messages in every piss stain and passing wind, how long do you think it will take before he reads signs in this bonding?'

'They are not bonded.'

'And little difference would that make. An alliance with Tsunai and a horned rukh upon his shoulders? Bondmate or house pet, your throne will dwarf in their shadow.'

Isla winced for Maharaj Khaisan's sake. She pitied him suddenly, and his silence in response to his father's belittlement only made her pity him more.

'Take Jyesta as your rajini to keep Kiet in line,' continued Maharaj Persi, 'but your seat only will truly be secure if your rani rivals in name and power with that of the Divine Gyok's.'

'And who might that be?' The indignance was back in Maharaj Khaisan's voice. 'Am I to scour the entire Kapuluan Raja and fish one out of the seas?'

'Had you but spent your tutelage more invested in such matters, perhaps by now would you have not only known, but also decided upon whom! Alas heard you none of your mother's advice or her gentle proddings, and now is it too late.'

Khaisan turned sharply away, and the two fell into renewed silence. There was a spark of light as Maharaj Persi lit a pot of incense sticks and nestled it among the roots of their tree.

'A careful selection of worthy suitors she arranged for you, yet quickly you brushed them all aside. Too quiet, too loud, too unattractive ... Those were years of her life, Khaisan! From the days you could barely crawl until all you ever did was crawl over maidens—years of her life spent seeking and charming every potential highborn; years dedicated to naught! Now is even the lowest girl on her list already wed, and you have no mother left to make introductions on your behalf. Your time runs thin. Either you court and win a worthy daughter among our foreign guests this tournament, or Kiet's betrothal must for your sake fall through.'

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↝ END CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX↜

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☆ this chapter is dedicated to storylover123abc ☆

Video: Sweet Dreams
Image: Tiger—© vishnu teja at ArtStation; remaining images—original artists unknown