River’s End ch 13: Adventure is the Only Tonic for Boredom

On Grenswa, to look at someone was an acknowledgement of their existence. It showed respect for their life and their right to live. Therefore, to turn away and ignore someone was beyond rude, akin to implying they should cease to be.

When heads swiveled toward the enthused voice calling the first prince’s name, then pivoted away, it puzzled me. They deliberately ignored her, gem-like gazes on their plates or hands.

Dropping from his swing and hurrying under the table, Timqé met his summoner before her lumbering strides carried her too far beyond the doorway. Clumsy me navigated turning in the hammock as she threw her arms around him, bouncing heavily on her toes.

“Niiq, what’re you doin’ up?”

So, this was Niiq, the pregnant wife of Grenswa’s first prince. Now I understood the reaction of the Jeweled around me.

She was not a Shlykrii-na, hot or otherwise.

She possessed a strange beauty. Her hair shone like a mirror, cut short at her nape and angled over her shoulders. Her bangs hung halfway to her elbows, and beaded strands proclaimed her married status. Silver scales matched her hair’s brilliance, freckled with shimmering onyx, but her eyes were the most captivating. Her right iris loomed black as a deep cavern, left a radiant chrome.

Niiq was Silver, a color sometimes born to Onyx and considered cursed.

I stared. While everyone else pretended to ignore the couple, the group’s silence and stolen glances revealed the direction of their attention. Niiq’s excited expression fell into a pout. She shook her head and mumbled something.

“Niiq,” Timqé said, affectionate exasperation amplifying his voice, “the doctor said—”

“I’m so bored!”

Behind me, the queen stood in her hammock. “The child within you, it’s not more important than your momentary entertainment?”

Niiq huffed. “He’s bored, too.”

Queen Jianthy sighed, forehead meeting her fingertips. “You can’t act properly, even in this.”

To her left, a shadowy-eyed teen glared at the couple, mouth twisted in some hybrid of smirk and grimace. Darkness dense as ebony in his expression reminded me of the Peace Officer, and I averted my gaze.

Sharing his hammock, an Onyx woman leaned over him and a young, washed-out Ruby. “My Queen, forgive my daughter. You know she’sn’t intelligent.”

Niiq didn’t hear. A good thing, I supposed. Had my mother said the same of me, I would have cried or punched someone. Probably both.

Instead, Niiq pitched, “Adventure’s the only tonic for boredom, Timqé. That book you brought me on architecture contained diagrams for this palace. There’re hidden passageways everywhere. Let’s explore them.”

“I love your insatiable curiosity, Niiq, how you don’t view anything as an obstacle and believe you’ve to know every part of everything.” Hands on her shoulders, Timqé directed her through the exit. Compared to him, she was tiny. “Growin’ our son’s an important adventure, too.”

“I can multitask adventure!”

They disappeared behind the curved wall. Murmurs hissed around the room, none distinct enough for me to understand, though I caught snippets. “Unsuitable princess.” “Royal execution.” Insects crawled through my insides.

Blu leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You didn’t believe Niiq’s real?”

Speaking out of the corner of my mouth, I matched his volume. “I haven’t heard much about her at all.”

“Makes sense. The family’s shushed any mention of her in the media.”

“She’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet.” Blu’s mother rubbed my shoulder, and her rough scales caught in the soft velvet of my cloak.

I stiffened, not used to the contact but not opposed to it.

Blu grunted. “Mom, you can only say that because she’s never decided your face looks like a drum.”

The Sapphire lady ignored his comment, and a sad tone strummed her words. “She’s unfortunate, our Princess Niiq.”

I peeked over my shoulder at the queen. She sat alone now, lost in bottomless thoughts. Her ocean-deep gaze wallowed on her plate, shell spoon in hand but not moving. The entire world had fallen on her rigid shoulders, either she or it about to crumble.

I can’t drop my news on her now. The king needs to be present. And advisors. And Timqé because he seems the most open-minded.

As the din returned to a rambunctious symphony, I repositioned myself in the swing and faced the table again. “Where are Hent and the king?”

Blu gnawed on another bird leg. “There’s an incident in Tils, and they went to allay the people’s fears of invasion.”

At this simple sentence spoken casually around a bite of meat, my pounding heart conquered all sound.

At least five seconds passed before I choked out, “By Shlykrii-nas?”

“Haven’t heard from those guys in over a century.” Blu snorted. “Merchants from Seallaii, though? They’re here all the time, obsessed with our art like it’s the only part of our lives that matters. We don’t get to see what’s on their freighters before they land. Any one of them might be smugglin’ an army.”

As much as I wanted to say that was impossible, had I not bribed a merchant to let me board one of those freighters? Fredo and I were not an army, but we could have been.

Perhaps we should have been. Then Fredo would still be with me.

As if from far away, Queen Jianthy cleared her throat and turned to me, tears barely contained. A twitch of a smile appeared as she found a subject to distract her thoughts. “Pink child, you’re sayin’ what before the interruption?”

I shook my head, throat tight. “Sorry, this isn’t the place to say it. Can I request an official audience with you, the king, and the first prince?”

Beneath the marriage beads in her bangs, her brow furrowed. “The first prince’s no longer qualified for official audiences.”

“Because he married a Silver? He’s still your son.”

Every line of her face straightened and hardened, her voice too soft and low like the roar of a distant waterfall. “Leave this table. Now.”

“Gladly.” I meant to slip gracefully from my hammock, but my leg tangled in its folds. My arms raked across the table, and I dragged several dishes down after me. As they crashed against the stone floor, I dangled upside-down, my foot caught. Some pathetic wiggling freed me, and I face-planted on the fish head.

Disgust and embarrassment buoyed me to my feet. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

As I ran from the room, a tiny voice in the back of my mind nagged, Where are you going?

To find Timqé and Niiq.

How do you plan to do that?

I didn’t answer inner me.

What about your message? You were rude to the queen. When they catch you, they’ll throw you out of here or worse.

Inner me was annoying, and she planted paranoia in my consciousness.

I slowed and scanned my surroundings, expecting a pack of officers to jump out from every corner or off every glittering chandelier. Not that I would have recommended touching the light sources. Frozen droplets of faceted glass hung from the ceiling, shot through with luminous lightning. In wider rooms, they gathered in clusters, purring and almost too bright to look at.

I spied out possible exits, stumbling and sliding often on the wet floor. Water and crafailia ran throughout this place—rivulets along the stone walls, cascades plunging over balconies, ponds harboring hallways.

What had Niiq said about hidden passages?

Someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth, muffling my scream as I fell over backward.

“You’re the girl Timqé found in the forest,” Niiq exclaimed in a melodious hiss by my ear.

I landed on my backside in a narrow hallway. “Yeah, that’s me.” I hoped the description wouldn’t become a permanent title.

Niiq’s mismatched eyes sparkled with extra shine, and her lips stretched wide. “He said you’re raised by River Guardians.”

“Uh, where did Timqé go?”

“While he’s walkin’ me back to our room, his father and brother returned, and officials insisted he meet them. So, I’m free to explore until he finds me.” Her grin shone as radiant as a full moon. “Want to come along? I’ve already found a passage.”

I had ticked off the queen and wouldn’t get any formal audience. Giving my message to Timqé seemed my best option, so I had to stay in the palace long enough to encounter him again. Hiding in unknown tunnels with a wife he would search for seemed a great way to accomplish that. Plus, it could be fun.

“Of course.”

“Great!” She scurried deeper down the slender hallway.

As I followed, the passage appeared to shrink behind me. It got very dark, very fast. Niiq scrambled up steep stairs, and panic swelled in my chest, leaving no room for my breaths.

I often traversed the hidden halls of the Citadel of Menyaza, but that was a maze designed to protect me. It responded to my touch, my safety and my wishes its priority.

If this building listened to anyone, it likely wasn’t me.

As I opened my mouth to suggest we go back, the path widened. In this section, horizontal slits let in natural light.

Niiq’s scaled fingers slid into one of these gaps, and her bare toes scraped at the wall as she tried to lift herself high enough to see through it. “These must be for espionage.”

“If it’s your goal to spy on trees.”

Niiq presented a more entertaining view than the static foliage outside. Her soft features scrunched with effort, and her glittering eyes squinted, as if with enough sharpness they could peer through the solid stone wall. In this oddly angled light, her copper skin had a crystalline quality.

“Oh, it’s just trees after all,” she said when she succeeded in peeking through the spy hole. Dropping down, she bounced onward through the tunnel. “Though trees’re great conspirators. They already’ve everyone convinced they’ren’t suspicious.”

Aboard Bongii’s ship, I had teased Fredo about a tree disguise.

I tumbled into distracted silence. Niiq’s further comments and softly spoken puns slipped past my ears without registration.

I should have planned better. Fredo trusted me, and I failed him.

My sister trusts me as well, as do the River Guardians, to deliver my message.

The Grenswa-nas don’t trust me.

Have I given them any reason to?

The realization lashed me like the whip-thin tip of a scyuen’s tail, and my steps halted. A Grenswa-na’s trust, as with most of their psyche, tied back to their dominant attribute: loyalty. It was complex and boundless, unbreakable and stalwart, but it was not automatic. It had to be earned.

Niiq’s voice burst through my thoughts. “You tossed a leempree across a ravine?”

I placed a hand on the wall to keep from toppling over. “Where did you hear about that?”

“That’s awesome. You’re awesome!” She threw her arms around me, and I squeaked.

“Doesn’t answer the question.” Unsure of what was expected of me, I patted her shoulder.

“You’re so tall! Maybe if I’s as tall as you, the doctor’dn’t think this baby’s too big for me and banish me to borin’ville.”

“His opinion has merit, though.” My eyes swept along her petite frame. Beneath layers of pouring obsidian and azure lace, her belly seemed about to burst. “You look like you might…pop.”

She gazed up at me, tears glistening in her opaque eyes, one luminous, one glossy. “You think I’m ugly?”

“No.” I knelt and wrapped her in my gentlest embrace. “Niiq, you’re like a moon shining bright in a dark night sky.”

Her mirror-like brows twisted, and her small nose wrinkled. The analogy made no sense to her. Grenswa’s moon was the harbinger of daylight.

“You’re like dawn,” I amended.

Her smile was more radiant than all Seallaii’s moons combined. “That’s amazin’. I knew you’re awesome.”

Her arms slinked away as she twirled to face the dank, unexplored depths of the passage.

“After I moved here, Hent told me what the counselors said.” Her back was to me, but tears still trilled in her voice. “They debated whether stealin’ the first prince’s heart’s a crime punishable by death for someone like me. My mother always wished I didn’t exist, and they wished that, too, that I’d disappear.”

Fire prickled in my gut, intensifying as it slithered upward. It prodded me to run back to the dining hall and let loose upon all those there, but my legs were trees, unbending and rooted to the stone floor. “That’s deplorable.”

She swiveled halfway back, eyes closed and smile wide as if it could dam all sadness. “Hent advised me to run away.”

I wanted to smack him.

Niiq’s smile didn’t waver. “I stayed. I love Timqé, and there’s never been a princess like me. Do you think I can change the world?”

Her question startled me, both in its scope and in how she worded it. The questions I had heard thus far from Grenswa-nas had all been phrased as statements, a language quirk rooted in their penchant for assumption. This was a true inquiry from Niiq with no implication I was required to agree.

I agreed wholeheartedly. I wanted to believe in her.

“Niiq, with enough effort and determination, you can do anything.”

She giggled, hands still clasped behind her back, but her tension had fled. “That sounds like the River Guardian motto: Impossible’s a matter of opinion.”

I had heard that mantra a million times, but never had I noted how pompous it sounded.

* * *

I got lost in my thoughts again, and when Niiq’s words broke me from my introspection, our secret passage had led us high in a tower.

“The Honorable Sjaealam figured out the moving parts of this palace. According to the book Timqé gave me, he designed these passages after his beloved Menyaza Citadel, where he grew up.”

Her gait was some mix of skip, sway, and waddle, and the faster she went, the more ridiculous it seemed. My long strides kept up with her well enough, but this was no casual stroll, especially considering the plethora of stairs.

My citadel had that, too, if I wanted them. At my request, they could smooth into a ramp. If I asked, they would fold away, granting access to a passage they had blocked or disconnecting higher pathways.

I didn’t know how long ago those features had been added. Uncle Sjaealam had been raised there several centuries before me. He may have even had some part in designing its current abilities. In which case…

I ran my hand along the wall. Moist and glossy, it felt nothing like the coarse stone of home. No mortar glowed at my fingers’ entreaty, but I did find something.

“Niiq, look! There’s a shape carved into the wall here.”

“By design or by a vandal?” Her face hovered a hairsbreadth from where my fingers rested on the deep lines. I doubted her mediocre sight could distinguish it in the dimness.

“It’s a marker that does something if given the right cue. The picture is of a quunee. Try cooing to it.”

With a toothy grin, Niiq perfectly imitated a quunee’s fluttering warble. It sounded like a drowning flute.

Nothing happened.

“Try it again, but this time touch the etching.”

I guided her hand to the sketch and traced her fingers over its swirled edges. A quunee had the bone structure of a bird, but its skinny arms ended in tiny, clever hands. Expandable membrane stretched from its wrists to its sides, forming pseudo wings that it used to glide, not fly. Its flat tail acted as a rudder in either air or water. Over-long legs allowed it to leap like a cricket. Three large feathers protruded from its head, serving little discernable purpose other than to make it appear less bald.

Niiq’s hand fell, and as if on a tether, so did her chin and brows. “Maybe it’s good it didn’t work. Quunee symbolize mischievousness. It might be a trap.”

“Quunee represent mischievousness because in their never-ending quest for food they get in everywhere.” I lifted her hand again and earned her gaze. “It likely opens an even more super-secret passage.”

“A secret passage within a secret passage?” Her eyes regained their vigor, and with her palm covering the quunee, Niiq cooed again.

A square section of wall swiveled on a horizontal axis, scooping us both onto our bellies. Niiq rolled, feet under her immediately. I lay there stunned, behind in the air, legs dangling and toes almost reaching the floor.

The wall had created a shelf showcasing us.

Pushing myself up on my hands, I surveyed the new room. A large but thin table floated on a rectangular, shallow pond. Cushions hung around it, hovering over the margin-like waters. Waxy papers cluttered the area. At the head of the board—forlorn, bedraggled, and dumped there unceremoniously—was my satchel.

I scrambled off the shelf, swung on a cushion, and skittered across the tabletop. It rocked beneath my heavy steps.

Either my lack of grace upset the balance of the shelf or it was on a timer. Niiq squeaked as it flipped shut, trapping me alone in the room.

Continued in chapter 14: Monsters Difficult to Tame

Thank you for reading!