The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

43.1

It was much too early for the hourly call. Afternoon three-bells could not have been rung more than a half hour before, and yet the calm of their high tea was already interrupted by another tolling of the bell tower.

Only these bells were frantic. An endless stream of peal after peal after peal—not the paced, even strikes of the hourly calls.

Even Rajini Chei stopped her pouring and frowned out the window. Across the table, Erma and Flori quickly found each other's hands, their faces blanching as they held on to one another.

'What is it?' Isla's voice drowned in the din of the bells.

Erma only shook her head. It was the other maid who whispered back at her, 'I don't know, but ... the last time we heard something like this was ...'

'Was what?'

'Was when they found Amarin dead.' Her grandmother rose, her voice still even despite it all. She nodded at her maids. 'Fetch the guards. Have them lock the estate down and secure every entrance. Then gather the servants and stay in the labyrinth sanctuary.'

'Ifrit's breath.' Isla pushed herself off the floor as Erma and Flori rushed out the tea room. 'Could it be the Napoii? Do you think the High Khan—'

'The High Khan is not so foolish as to make any attacks, outnumbered as he greatly is, here at the Grand Palace.'

'I wouldn't be too sure about his daughter.'

The rajini made her way to the windows. They were so narrow, each pane barely met the breadth of her shoulders. 'Pack your bags and be ready to leave.'

She's scared. 'Perhaps the Rani has passed. You said yourself she's been very ill.'

'They will not sound the alarm bells for a natural death. Now do as I say.' She turned away from her, her eyes clouding in a swirl of blue and white.

Finally the last of the bells had been struck, but the quiet that followed was all the more unnerving. A dull pattering of boots spread throughout the estate, an occasional shout of command would follow. Isla had already crossed the room and slid the door open when the rajini gasped behind her.

'What?'

Her grandmother shook her head, eyes still seeing through Huu. 'The Maha Garda. They are everywhere. They are saying ...'

For once the fear made its way to the rajini's face. She blinked the clouds clear, hurried away from the windows and gripped Isla by the shoulder. 'You're hurting me—'

'Forget your bags. Take only what you need and get to the gazebo.'

'What are they saying?'

'Judhistir is dead. Your maharaj has killed him.'

   
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Impossible. Isla waved at the rajini's guards to let her through. They refused at first, but they knew better by then than to argue with her. The doors were pulled open, and Isla ran across the porch and down into the rajini's garden.