The ministers stepped aside to consult with each other as Mayu and Tamar and the princess waited. What the ministers did next would tell them everything they needed to know.
Minister Nagh and Minister Zihun turned slowly. They bowed their heads and knelt before the princess. “We have failed you. We should have protected you from your sister’s deceptions.”
“But I must beg your forgiveness,” said Ehri. “I have put you at risk by sharing this information with you. We are all in danger now.”
“You can set this right,” said Tamar. “Queen Makhi may be returning to the capital even now. Bring Ehri to the palace and place her under your protection.”
“We can,” said Zihun as they rose. “Of course we can. We only beg that you will show us mercy when you are queen.”
“I do not want the crown,” said Ehri. “Only justice and peace.”
I should be relieved at that, thought Mayu. She’d always considered the princess useless, a woman who could barely fight, who liked to sip tea and play her songs and who dreamed of an ordinary life. She’d thought Ehri’s charm and gentle ways were liabilities. Now she wondered. Had the princess always been a diplomat, wielding the careful ways of court and etiquette as her weapons while Makhi chose the cudgels of might and cunning? Which type of leader did Shu Han need?
But the next step would require more than fine speeches. In many ways, the palace was the most perilous place for them to be. They would be surrounded by guards, Tavgharad, Makhi’s spies. But it was also where they had to make their stand. They couldn’t simply meet with ministers. There had to be a public reckoning, and Princess Ehri would only be safe when everyone knew she was back on Shu soil and Makhi couldn’t pursue action against her in secret.
“You should come to the palace by night,” said Minister Nagh. “Under cover of darkness.”
“Yes,” agreed Ehri. “We will join you at the garden door in two hours.”
The ministers departed with many pledges of loyalty. But Tamar and Ehri made no move to follow.
“We’re not going tonight, are we?” Mayu asked.
Ehri shook her head. “We can’t arrive at the palace skulking around in the dark like criminals.”
“You don’t believe the ministers will help us?”
Tamar gave a small shrug. “Zihun and Nagh seem honest and righteous enough, but we need better protection than the promises of politicians.”
That Mayu could agree with. She was tired of placing her faith in the honor of kings and queens and commanders. “And if Makhi is waiting when we arrive?”
Tamar flashed a wicked grin. “We’re counting on it.”
* * *
Dawn came and went and they remained inside, as they waited for the crowds to enter the morning market that surrounded the temple fields. The Shu airship and the Grisha had long since departed.
Ehri changed into fresh silks, and when she returned, Tamar brought her a package wrapped in linen.
“You have it,” Ehri said with obvious relief.
Tamar unwrapped the package.
“A khatuur?” Mayu asked incredulously. “I was hoping for a weapon.”
“It is a weapon,” said Ehri. “Beauty of all kinds is a weapon.”
Tamar huffed a laugh. “You sound like Zoya.”
Ehri clearly didn’t appreciate the comparison. “She’s all bluster, like my sister. No, the khatuur is much more than that.”
“Are you ready?” Tamar asked. “Once we begin this, there will be no turning back.”
Ehri rested her fingers on the strings of the khatuur. For a moment, she said nothing, tuning the instrument, guiding the notes to arrange themselves in the air, then letting them fade.
“I have never been so frightened,” she said. “I thought I could imagine this all as a performance, but it’s not, is it?”
“No,” said Tamar. “It’s very real.”
Mayu wanted to scream. They were really going to walk to the palace, out in the open, in the bright light of day. How could Tamar let the princess do something this foolish? They were never going to make it to the palace. Queen Makhi would simply send an assassin to pick them off before they ever set foot in the city proper. But Mayu was a soldier, and a soldier had to follow.
“I’ve never wanted to be the hero in any story,” Ehri said, gazing down at the softly curved neck of the khatuur. “I only wanted to sing their tales. A hero would think of the possibility of war, the lives that hung in the balance, the women who burned at a callous queen’s order. But I find it is my own life that worries me the most.”