Beyond the city-barely visible from this distance-was a jagged line that bisected the island. The line revealed the ivory cliffs of the straits. To Atiana it looked like the island had ripped, half of it striving to remain with the Empire, the other half reaching for the Grand Duchy. It was not so far from the truth. Many on Galahesh had family and interests on both the continent and the islands.
Behind her, the old kapitan approached. “This is as close as we dare, My Lady Princess.”
“It’s close enough,” Atiana replied.
They were still several leagues from the straits, but the kapitan was worried over the ley lines that twisted and kinked the closer one came to the straits. Were they to attempt to fly over the gap itself, or even around it, they would risk being caught in a whorl, and there was no telling what might happen then. In all likelihood the ship would never make it out. It would crash to the ground or into the sea, as so many ships had while attempting to pass through it. Of all the advancements the Grand Duchy, Yrstanla, and even Galahesh had made over the centuries, they still hadn’t found a way to unravel the mysteries of the straits, which was why nearly all of the goods being shipped between Yrstanla and the Grand Duchy were brought to an eyrie on the northern end of the island, ferried over land by wagons, across the straits on special barges, and reloaded onto waiting ships in Svoya on the southern end of Galahesh.
“By our fathers, just look at it,” the kapitan said, his voice full of wonder.
He was referring to the bridge. It hadn’t even been completed yet and people had already started calling it the Spar. And Atiana could see why. The straits at its narrowest point was nearly a half-league, and the land on either side was four hundred feet above the sea. Nearly five years ago the foundations of the bridge had been laid, a thing that had never been considered in the hundreds of years the Empire had controlled this island. The distance was simply too far to span.
Or so it had been thought.
This Kamarisi, this young man, apparently thought it necessary, and he had poured vast amounts of resources into the effort. Twenty-six columns-one for each of the emperors in Hakan’s line-supported the bridge from below, and the spans between were nearly complete. Only in the middle, at the center of the bridge, was the stone still being worked.
“It’s impressive.”
“Impressive… Unnatural is what I say. Men shouldn’t build such things.”
“It will help trade, Kapitan.”
“It will bring Yrstanla one step closer to the Grand Duchy.” He strode away to tend to the ship. “And mark my words, nothing good can come of that.”
Indeed, Atiana thought. The straits was a natural barrier between the two powers, and even though Galahesh had been in the hands of Yrstanla ever since the Great War, it was a fact that gave both sides some comfort that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to catch the other off-guard.
It fouled the aether as well, making it doubly dangerous for her when she prepared to take the dark. There were dozens of stories from Mother and Aunt Katerina and every other Matra old enough to remember the ancient tales of those who had wandered too close to the straits and had become lost. Most recovered in time, but Atiana’s great-grandmother Tatiana had never returned. She died seventeen days after trying to spy upon the Kamarisi of Yrstanla, who at that time had been threatening war with the Islands.
Atiana turned when she heard light footsteps making their way across the deck. It was Ishkyna, who had convinced Father that she might prove herself of use on this journey. It was an excuse for Ishkyna to leave her husband’s side-a game Ishkyna never tired of-but Atiana also knew that Ishkyna had become smitten with Siha s, the Kamarisi’s envoy.
“It does look grand, doesn’t it?” Ishkyna said, gripping the shroud and leaning over the gunwales to look out toward the city.
“It looks dangerous,” Atiana said, her gaze drawn toward the shattered remains of the city’s southwestern section.
“Sometimes they go hand in hand.” Ishkyna swung back and struck Atiana with her hip. “What of your man, Bahett? You haven’t spoken of him.”
“There’s little enough to tell, Shkyna. I’m beholden.”
“You mean smitten. With another…”
Atiana considered the two pieces of the island, split from one another by the straits. It felt like her and Nikandr, close at times, but never quite able to touch.
“Come now,” Ishkyna continued. “You know how such things work. A man like Bahett will not begrudge you a man like Nikandr coming discreetly to the city for a time. You’ll be the ilkadin. You could go for days, even weeks at a time. Besides, after a few months, Bahett will hardly remember you.”
It was Atiana’s turn to hip her sister.
Ishkyna laughed-a genuine laugh, not the one she used when she was stalking men. It felt good to hear. “You know what I mean. As pretty as you are, the Kaymakam of Galahesh has duties, and many women who might divert him from it. If you wish to see Nikandr, accept the hand of Galahesh and everyone will look the other way. Besides, we must look beyond the halls of Baressa, mustn’t we? The Kamarisi stares ever harder beyond the shores of Galahesh.”
Atiana knew her sister’s words were false. She could not even allow herself the fantasy of believing in them. Even if she were willing to break her marriage vows to Bahett, Nikandr would not. He knew, as Atiana did, that it was too risky. Both of them could, and probably would, be put to death if they were found together.
Instead, she changed the subject. “Is that why you’ve hounded the envoy every moment you’ve had?”
Ishkyna stared at Atiana flatly. “He’s no joy between the sheets, Tiana, believe me. Were it not for his station, I would gladly have looked to his servants.” Her stare turned into a wry smile. “In fact, I already have. They’re much more… pliable.”
“I don’t know how you live with yourself.”
“Don’t wrinkle your nose at wine you haven’t tasted. You’ll know soon enough…”
The ship bucked in the wind, forcing Atiana to hold to the nearby shroud to steady herself.
“There’s a surge coming,” the kapitan said. “Best you wait in your cabins.”
“Best you tend to your business,” Ishkyna said, “and let us attend to ours.”
The kapitan left with a sour look on his face. The winds continued to kick, though, and Ishkyna soon went to her cabin at the rear of the ship. Atiana remained. She wanted to study the straits from the air as long as she could. She wanted to fix them in her mind for the next time she took the dark. The straits were dangerous, as she had known even before her recent visit with Saphia.
The winds eventually died down, but only after they’d turned and headed east for several leagues. The rest of the trip went uneventfully. They landed in Svoya and were met at the eyrie by a host of Bahett’s servants. They took her and Ishkyna and the rest of their retinue overland in a train of coaches. The land was dryer here than among the islands, and so the landscape seemed spare, almost desiccated.
When they finally reached Baressa, they received a completely different view from the ground. Galahesh was by and large a long plateau of land. Indeed, except for the Mount, the massive hill that housed Kasir Yalidoz and the wealthiest homes, the city was flat. It felt strange, as most of the cities in the Grand Duchy were built onto slopes or mountainsides. And the people. They choked the streets. The traffic became so bad near the Mount they came to a standstill. They were in a street that had market stalls on either side. Hundreds became thousands as people wearing all manner of bright clothing wandered along the street, considering the stalls of silk and wool and knives and fruit and wine and dates.