The doors are thin, only sealed curtains, and Ruti sees a shadow of movement beyond them. “Dekala!”
A hand takes her arm to stop her. It’s Kalere, her voice somber. “A moment, please.” She turns her back to the rest of the room, deliberately shifting Ruti’s attention to her. “Today,” she says, loud enough that the other attendants crowd closer to hear her, “Princess Dekala agreed to wed and bond with Prince Torhvin of Rurana. There will be a grand soulbinding ceremony in the Ruranan capital of Byale in three weeks’ time.”
The attendants erupt in chatter, excitement and questions and delight all at once. Ruti stares at Kalere, wordless with shock, with sheer disbelief. It can’t be. It can’t. Kalere’s voice is quiet now, a whisper between them both. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “But you must have known that this was an inevitability.” Ruti shakes her head, still unable to speak, and catches sight of Kimya in a corner, looking just as stunned as she feels. “She wishes to be left alone while she prepares,” Kalere says softly. She turns to the big window, hands clasped together, and Ruti is left alone in a crowd of elated, celebrating attendants.
“Look at her,” Orrin says disgustedly, and Ruti blinks at him.
“Dekala?” She’s never heard him refer to her in that tone, the exasperated disdain combined with bewilderment.
Orrin shakes his head. “The attendant,” he says, jabbing a finger at Winda. Across the courtyard, Dekala is speaking in low tones with the other woman, a smile fixed on her face as they chat about … wedding plans, probably. “Dekala asked me to give them some privacy. Privacy with the enemy.”
“She isn’t an attendant,” Ruti points out. “She’s a bodyguard. Maybe Dekala is shopping for one who isn’t in love with her.”
Orrin freezes. “You think the prince is forcing her to leave me behind?”
“I don’t think anyone can force Dekala to do anything she doesn’t want to,” Ruti says wearily. It’s the question she’s been grappling with most for the past few days. Kalere has directed her to accompany Dekala throughout the soulbinding preparations in Somanchi, and it has been a quiet exercise in frustration.
Dekala doesn’t even look directly at her. She brushes aside Ruti’s attempts to speak to her privately, and hardly addresses Ruti or Orrin at all. Instead, she’s thrown herself into wedding plans and preparations for her formal introduction to the Ruranan people. There is no hesitation in her energy, no lack of enthusiasm or distance to anyone except her two companions.
Ruti doesn’t understand it, except through the creeping, sick worry that she’s been wrong about Dekala all along. Perhaps the Regent is right. Dekala shaped herself into something new to win Ruti’s loyalty, and something else entirely when she discarded Ruti in favor of her soulbond. Spirits know she’s done nothing to disprove the Regent’s assumptions.
Still, a stubborn part of Ruti won’t give up on her and leave. Maybe it’s because of Kimya, still placidly chewing chocolate treats from Dekala at night and speaking of her only with unquestioning trust. Maybe it’s the memory of Dekala caring, of every bit of humanity belied by her actions until now.
Dekala is otherworldly in the gown she wears today, pale white with ornate golden trim. The seamstresses at the palace have taken to the challenge of royal wedding dresses and courting gowns with gusto, and Dekala almost floats as she strolls through the Royal Square, a vision in white.
Beside her, Winda is businesslike, but she sneaks glances back at Orrin and Ruti, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Orrin narrows his eyes back at her. Ruti watches Dekala, who keeps her gaze aloof and looks only to the sky.
“Imagine if they begin their grand ceremony and press their palms together and nothing happens,” Orrin says wistfully. “The sheer waste of resources and alliances. And Dekala will return to herself.”
“Aren’t Bonded supposed to instantly know when they meet?” Ruti says. “They seem very certain they are soulbonds. Do you remember yours?”
Orrin scoffs. “I was a child. I don’t remember anything about her. I chose to serve my princess, and her family chose to flee from their duties to the crown. She is nothing like me.” He glowers at his palm for a moment. “Soulbonds are not destined to be together. They grant each other power in their unification, but that is no guarantee for their lives together.”
Adimu and Yawen, in that guest house outside Rurana, had said something very similar. “I don’t know,” Ruti says, kicking a stone on the ground. It rolls across the courtyard, banging against Winda’s sandal, and Winda glances at it and then returns to her conversation with Dekala. “Seems like Torhvin and Dekala are two of a kind.”
When Winda finally departs, Dekala waits until they walk to join her. “I will be selecting a number of courtiers to join us on our trip to Byale, Rurana’s capital,” she says crisply. “We will have Zidesh represented at this soulbinding. Torhvin is planning to open the gates of Rurana to all visitors for our ceremony.” There is no hesitation in her voice, no guilt at addressing Orrin about this without apology. Orrin’s face falls, and Ruti feels a twinge of sympathy for him.
She says, belligerent, “I think I’ll stay home.”
Dekala does not look at her. “All of my attendants will join me, of course,” she says, still to Orrin. “I will be no less adorned in Rurana than I am in Zidesh, particularly when I become queen.”
“And that’s all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it?” Ruti says, another provocation. Dekala does not respond.
Instead she says, “I will take my leave. Torhvin and I have some private matters to discuss.”
“There is something we would like to discuss with you as well.” It’s Orrin who speaks, sneaking a significant look at Ruti. Suddenly, with the fate of Rurana’s Markless as the proof of Torhvin’s unsuitability for Dekala, Orrin has become an avid protector of the Markless. “It’s a dire situation in Rurana—”
Dekala’s voice is cold. “I am sure that my soulbond will inform me best on dire situations in Rurana,” she says, turning away from them, and again, firmly, “I take my leave.” She departs without a second glance, walking toward Torhvin’s quarters across the courtyard. Two Zideshi bodyguards part from the crowd to follow her, throwing Orrin pitying looks as they do.
It isn’t the first time that Dekala has replaced Orrin over the past few days. Ruti, who has no replacement in the palace, is summarily dismissed instead. She paces in the courtyard, infuriated and close to losing hope.
It had ached before, falling for Dekala while believing she’d been in love with someone else. This burns like an open wound, and she has only herself to blame. Her heart feels fragile, like rapidly thinning glass, as though one more hostile encounter might shatter it entirely.
But Ruti isn’t one to let fragility dictate her actions, and her fists clench against the vulnerability. She will speak to Dekala. She will not allow herself to be ignored and overlooked while Dekala makes the greatest mistake of her life.
Yet that is beginning to feel like an impossible task. Dekala hasn’t even come to visit Kimya since the announcement. Kimya has signed her displeasure to Ruti, though she is too stubborn to speak it for what it is. I haven’t gotten chocolate in days, she signs, and her lower lip wobbles just a bit. Ruti signs back reassurance that she doesn’t feel, and Kimya scoffs. She’s never too busy for me. Or for you, she adds slyly, hands moving in a graceful blur that Ruti struggles to follow. If you would just talk to her.…
But Torhvin monopolizes his future wife’s time gleefully, amused by Ruti’s distaste for him. “I do think it’s charming that you bring a companion wherever you go,” he says one day when he catches her glare. In just a few days, a caravan is scheduled to leave for Byale with half of the palace staff, and Ruti is getting desperate.
She glowers at Torhvin, making no secret of how deeply she despises him, and Torhvin says thoughtfully, “Your bodyguard looks at me the same way.” He laughs. “Is every one of your staff in love with you?”
Dekala gives him a thin smile. “I am sure Rurana is the same for you. You are quite beloved in your kingdom, from what I’ve seen.”
Torhvin shakes his head mournfully. “The people adore my brother, King Jaquil, but he is tragically out of our reach.” Dekala listens, her face unreadable. Torhvin spreads his hands. “My father was brilliant, but unwise with our resources. I have learned from his mistakes. The spirits have not always been kind to Rurana, but in recent years, the Maned One has blessed us with more prosperity than ever before. I am only fortunate to enjoy his favor.”
Ruti quakes with fury. Favor, as though his prosperity has come from anything more than the sale of vulnerable Markless. And Dekala, nodding along, has no sharp words for him anymore.
They are seated together in the Regent’s war room, planning a wedding instead of a war. Orrin and Ruti lean against one wall, Winda against the opposite with one of Torhvin’s three witches. Dekala and Torhvin sit side by side, Torhvin’s hand resting on Dekala’s back when he shifts.
“There is much I can learn from your governing,” Dekala says. “But I wonder what role you will have in your kingdom when your brother awakens and is crowned at last.”
Torhvin removes his hand from Dekala’s back to press his fingers together, bowing his head. “I am afraid,” he confides, his tone somber, “Jaquil may never awaken. It is a heartbreaking thing to know, but the healers are less and less confident every day. Still, I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Rurana Jaquil awakens to will be the kingdom he deserves.”
“You are a noble caretaker for your land,” Dekala allows, and she smiles at Torhvin, a smile that Ruti has never seen before on her face. It is almost shy, the timid smile of a girl who has found love for the first time, and Ruti feels sick at it. It doesn’t feel like Dekala, like the fierce warrior princess who is always in control of her destiny.
