The datu’s eyes cool on the young prince. I have only seen Deven look at Ashwin with that much distaste. “We are preparing supper for you and your viraji. First, let us direct you to your chambers.”
I startle at the datu’s formal endearment for me, and, at the fringe of my sight, Deven stiffens. No one has called me viraji—intended queen—since Tarek claimed me as his final rani.
“Datu Bulan,” I say, “there’s been a mistake. I’m not—”
“Kalinda isn’t well enough to stand here any longer,” Indah finishes. “She suffered an ordeal while securing her throne in the trial tournament. I must insist she rest.”
Datu Bulan dons a paternal friendliness. “Then let’s move along.”
Ashwin pulls back. “Datu, may I have use of your library?” He intends to research the Voider. Bhuta powers cannot injure the demon, so we have to find another way to stop him.
The datu does not balk at the prince’s request, nor does his glower lessen. “As you wish.”
Admiral Rimba steps forward. “Pons can escort the prince.”
Deven does not object to leaving Ashwin in Pons’s care, but Indah raises her voice.
“Must it be Pons, Father? We only just arrived.”
“The ambassador and I have matters to attend to,” Admiral Rimba clips out. “Have you any grievance, Pons?”
Pons tucks his arms in, his chin high. “No, sir.” He speaks to Ashwin. “Your Majesty, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way to the library.”
Ashwin begins to go with him, and the newness of this place lands on me all at once.
“Will I see you soon?” My question arises as a demand. Distance between Ashwin and I has not troubled me before, but the pressure on my chest will not abate.
“I’ll find your chamber later,” Ashwin promises, and he sets off with Pons.
My anxiety dissolves . . . until I catch Deven’s sidelong look. I cannot say what came over me, except that I am not as comfortable in the company of our allies as I thought.
Admiral Rimba leaves with Chitt, and Datu Bulan shuffles up the main walkway in sandals that are too big for him. An amethyst banner with a sea dragon hangs above the arched entry. Through the main doors, pastel shells encrust the ivory walls and lanterns. Additional banners drape from the vaulted ceilings, splashes of majesty that offset the neutral décor.
In the center of the entry hall, a fountain cascades down from the second level between the double staircase. The datu slows before the fountain’s base so we can view the lifelike sculpture of Enki riding astride a sea dragon. The creature’s sleek, serpentine body is half submerged in the miniature rapids. The goddess holds a trident in one hand, her arms open to the archipelago of the Southern Isles.
I recognize the depiction of the legend from my history lessons with the Sisterhood. “This scene portrays the creation of the isles.”
Datu Bulan smiles, revealing his toothy gap. “Very apt, Kindred. We tell our creation story every spring at the highest tide.”