A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,58

no longer content to be ignored. “I need to return to the room, though. I think I’m going to be sick.”

* * *

I spat up in a potted palm around the corner and was relegated to my bed for the rest of the day.

Osir came to introduce himself, along with the healer, Tavan, who insisted I do nothing but eat fruit and lean strips of lamb, drink several pots of tea, and sleep. The strength of will in her eyes reminded me of Mirabel. And just like my old nursemaid, she seemed to believe stuffing me full of food would be the only way to recover and I didn’t mount any protest.

I asked her a dozen questions about flying—could she teach me?—and Khimaerani’s gift—who was the last in our family to possess it?—but Tavan wouldn’t answer, repeating that I needed rest. When I ignored that and continued to pester her, she left and returned five minutes later with a book. Then Tavan swept out of the room, with curt instructions to her nephew to follow.

Aketo returned Isadore to her bedchamber and Falun went to run drills with the soldiers, until only Anali remained. She sat in a chair at my left, boots propped up on the bed.

We’d been picking at the heaping tray of food Osir brought for nearly an hour. I was pleasantly full and drowsy, trying to direct my thoughts only to the things I had a hope in understanding.

I held up a bright blue piece of mazi fruit cut into a star. “This place is strange. Who do you suppose cut this so carefully? And how does it grow here?”

“I daresay everything about the last few days has been strange,” Anali agreed. “They say there is an offshoot of the Red River that runs beneath the land here. Wait till you see the trees outside. There are giraffes and flocks of birds who only nest here. It seems your father’s family really was blessed by the Mother. And I’m told Lirra handles all the food. I’ve sent soldiers to help her every morning, but she sends them away. Strange, irascible creature, that woman.”

“I’ll meet with them first thing tomorrow.”

“Aye, I know.”

“What do you think of them? Of Papa’s family hiding out here while so many others suffered.”

“I am glad they survived.” Anali shrugged. “If Lei had never become King, neither of us would be here. I don’t begrudge them staying safe, much as I wish they could have done more. If you’re right about Lord Baccha, then the Tribe has done the same and I’m sure they have more resources than one family afraid of being exposed.”

“He should have told me.”

I expected Anali to defend my father as always, but she nodded. “Yes, he should have told all of us.”

I turned my attention to the book Tavan had left at the foot of the bed. It was longer than my forearm and nearly as wide. On the front a symbol was inscribed in gold, an exact match to the iktar inscribed on the sword Papa gave me last year. The symbols, used to represent khimaer names, were the last vestige of an ancient language that predated Khimaeran.

I remembered how Aketo had seen it inscribed on the blade, and thought the name this iktar represented, Nbaltir, was a dead one. But it wasn’t dead, just in hiding. That sword was my father’s first and only clue to the truth about us. And I had missed it.

I traced the sloping lines of the iktar. Nbaltir, my new family name. I would gladly drop Killeen in favor of it, if only I could go into hiding like they had. For a moment I imagined a future where Aketo, Anali, Falun, and I traveled across Myre like ghosts, freeing khimaer until we had a host of ghosts. No, not ghosts but hunters ourselves.

If we could remain free, would I even want to return to the throne?

I opened the book and found an illustration of a vast baobab tree. Its branches reached up into an inky-blue sky.

I turned the page and scanned the words. It was written in Khimaeran, a list of names and dates from centuries before the Great War.

“I think it’s a book of the family lineage.”

“Keep going,” Anali urged. “There’s likely a family history near the back. All the noble families used to maintain libraries and employed archivists to keep their histories. The Nbaltir library may still be intact.”

I flipped forward a couple hundred pages until the list of