Chapter 1 - Eastern Palace
CHAPTER ONE
THE WILD GARDEN
ZURI
The elegant white palace towered above the jungle, bold and gleaming beneath the morning sun.
Its gardens spread around it in immaculate tiers—hedges cut into perfect lines, flowering vines trained along pale stone arches, wild blossoms arranged into obedient beds. Even the trees had been trimmed back, their branches shaped and restrained so they would not dare grow beyond the palace design.
Zuri hated them.
How could anyone look at the wild beauty of the Ahzurian jungle and decide it needed taming?
Beyond the palace walls, enormous trees tangled together beneath the heat. Vines climbed wherever they pleased. Flowers burst from cracks in stone, bright and unapologetic. The jungle did not ask permission before it grew.
Here, everything did.
Every branch had its place.
Every flower its boundary.
Every path had already been decided before a person stepped upon it.
Zuri stood at the edge of the polished gardens, staring towards the dark green wilderness beyond the walls.
She understood the flowers.
Because lately, she felt exactly like them.
Trapped inside somebody else’s design.
Cut back whenever she reached too far.
Straightened whenever she grew in the wrong direction.
Expected to become something beautiful, polished and perfectly controlled.
Something unnatural to her.
Her fingers tightened around the riding gloves in her hand.
At nineteen, Princess Zuri of Ahzuria had become very good at discovering which palace rules could be bent.
And which walls could be climbed.
Nia stood with her arms folded, shaking her head.
“Princess Zuri, please. Today I do not wish to be scolded by the Alluhi.”
Zuri glanced back at her as she tightened the saddle strap.
“You will only be scolded if we get caught.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“Everyone is distracted with Amari’s wedding preparations. Just stay in my bed, tell them I am unwell, and I will be back before anyone notices.”
“Princess.”
The stress in her dearest friend’s face deepened.
Zuri smiled.
“Nia.”
Nia’s expression flattened.
“One hour,” she said firmly. “Then I raise the alarm myself.”
“One hour and thirty.”
Zuri gently kicked the horse forward.
“One hour!” Nia hissed after her. “I mean it!”
Zuri laughed.
By the time she reached the servants’ exit, she had pulled a hood over her head.
Nia’s cloak.
The same one Zuri had bought her for her eighteenth birthday.
Nia had accused her at the time of choosing it only because it was large enough for Zuri to steal whenever she wanted to escape the palace.
Zuri had denied it.
Poorly.
Now, with the cloak wrapped around her shoulders and the palace disappearing behind her, Zuri decided Nia had probably been right.
By the time she reached Kuala, the sun had risen high enough to warm the pale stone buildings and draw the city fully awake.
She slowed Uri near the edge of the marketplace and dismounted.
The mare flicked her ears.
Zuri pointed one stern finger at her.
“Stay.”
Uri snorted.
“And if anyone tries to mount you—kick them.”
The mare tossed her head.
“Hard.”
Zuri patted her neck and walked away.
Kuala was named after her mother.
Queen Samira Kuala Akhuna had once laughed when Zuri asked whether that made the entire city technically hers by inheritance.
It did not, apparently.
Zuri disagreed.
The marketplace was already alive.
Animated.
Vibrant.
Beautifully chaotic.
Vendors shouted over one another from beneath brightly woven awnings. Long patterned garments hung from wooden poles, rich with colour and embroidery. Strings of beads glittered in the sunlight. Gold bracelets, hammered earrings and polished stones caught the light from every direction.
Women carried woven baskets against their hips.
Children darted between stalls.
Spices filled the air with heat and sweetness.
Someone nearby was roasting meat.
Someone else was arguing loudly over the price of fabric.
Zuri breathed deeply.
Here.
This was where she felt alive.
Not in those polished gardens where every branch had been taught where it was allowed to grow.
Here, nothing seemed interested in being obedient.
She slowed beside a jewellery stall, her eyes immediately catching on a strand of blue stones.
Not diamonds.
Glass.
Good glass, though.
She reached to touch them—
A shout split through the marketplace.
“THIEF!”
Zuri turned.
A boy burst between two stalls.
He could not have been more than ten.
Perhaps eleven.
Bare feet.
Torn shirt.
Arms painfully thin.
He clutched a loaf of bread against his chest.
A stallholder came charging after him with a thick wooden stick raised above his shoulder.
“You little vermin!”
The boy looked behind him.
Too late.
Zuri’s expression changed.
Her hand tightened around the handle of her sun umbrella.
The stallholder passed her.
She extended it.
Just slightly.
His ankle caught.
He went down spectacularly.
The stick flew from his hand.
Several people gasped.
Zuri covered her mouth.
“Oh!”
The man rolled onto his back.
Zuri hurried towards him.
“Oh, sir! I am so sorry!”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“I did not see you!”
“You foolish, foolish girl!”
Zuri winced appropriately.
The boy disappeared into an alley.
“You let that vermin get away!”
The man spat angrily to one side.
For just a moment, Zuri’s face hardened.
Vermin.
Then the softness returned.
She lowered her head.
“I am terribly sorry, kind sir. Please, allow me to reimburse you for your troubles.”
His anger faltered.
Zuri reached beneath her cloak and placed several coins into his palm.
Twenty nakta.
The bread could not have cost more than three.
His eyes widened.
“Oh.”
He counted them quickly.
Then again.
“Oh, wow. Thila, you are very generous.”
Zuri smiled sweetly.
“Oh no. I have caused you much discomfort. Please accept my apologies.”
The man rubbed his elbow, considerably less concerned about the stolen loaf now.
“Yes. Yes, well...” He tucked the money away. “You should be more careful.”
“Of course.”
He bowed.
Zuri bowed politely in return.
Then waited.
One breath.
Two.
The moment he turned away, her smile vanished.
She looked towards the alley.
And ran.
The passageway was narrow and shaded, squeezed between the backs of two buildings.
“Boy?”
Nothing.
Zuri walked further.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Silence.
Then she heard it.
Chewing.
She looked beneath an abandoned wooden table.
Two frightened eyes stared back at her.
The boy had already eaten nearly half the loaf.
Not eaten.
Devoured.
His cheeks were full as he clutched the remaining bread protectively against his chest.
Zuri crouched.
His entire body stiffened.
“It’s all right.”
He shuffled backwards until his shoulders struck the wall.
“I’m not taking it.”
His eyes flicked towards the alley entrance.
Zuri lowered her voice.
“Calm. Calm.”
She reached slowly towards him.
The instant her fingers touched his arm, he flinched so violently that Zuri froze.
Her expression changed.
She looked at him properly.
Not the thief.
The child.
His wrists were too thin.
His collarbones stood sharply beneath his skin.
There was dirt beneath his fingernails and an old bruise yellowing across one cheek.
Zuri’s jaw tightened.
Very gently, she offered him her hand.
“Come.”
He stared at it.
“I can help you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You lie.”
Zuri’s eyebrows rose.
“You will bring the Chulan.”
“No.”
“The guards take thieves.”
“They will not take you.”
“You trick me.”
“I think I have proven I deserve a little of your trust.”
The boy considered that.
Zuri tilted her head.
“If I intended to hand you to the Chulan, I would have brought them directly to you.”
His grip on the bread loosened slightly.
She held her hand out again.
“No Chulan.”
He looked at her fingers.
Then at her face beneath the hood.
“Where?”
“Mama Esther.”
Recognition flickered.
Everyone in this part of Kuala seemed to know Mama Esther.
“She’ll give you food,” Zuri continued. “A bed. Work when you’re strong enough.”
His expression changed at the word work.
“I can work.”
“I did not say you couldn’t.”
“I am strong.”
Zuri looked pointedly at his arms.
He frowned.
She hid a smile.
“What is your name?”
He hesitated.
“Kito.”
“Well, Kito, are you coming?”
He stared at her for a long moment.
Suspicion warred with hunger.
Then slowly, he crawled out from beneath the table.
He did not take her hand.
Not yet.
Zuri rose anyway.
Kito stood beside her, clutching the half-eaten loaf.
“Who are you?”
She adjusted Nia’s hood lower over her face.
“Nobody important.”
Kito looked at the expensive stitching along the cloak.
Then at her boots.
Then at her umbrella.
His expression said very clearly that he did not believe her.
Zuri smiled.
“Come.”
This time, when she began walking, he followed.
Mama Esther’s home sat near the edge of the market, built high and wide with a deep balcony overlooking the courtyard below. The guards at the entrance shifted as Zuri came into view, clearly recognising her despite the hood.
“Mama!” Zuri called, stepping into the courtyard. “Mama Esther, are you there?”
A moment later, a woman appeared on the balcony above.
“Well, aren’t you a sight?” Mama Esther leaned over the railing, amusement immediately lighting her face. “My favourite little vigilante. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Zuri smiled.
“I have someone I would like you to meet.”
She looked back.
Kito had stopped several steps behind her.
His eyes travelled nervously over the guards, the large house, then back towards the street as though calculating how quickly he could run.
Zuri gestured him forward.
“This is Kito. He needs work, food and somewhere to sleep.”
Mama Esther looked him over.
“He does, does he?”
Kito lowered his eyes.
“Those things are not easy to gain.”
“I will personally fund it,” Zuri said quickly.
Mama Esther’s smile softened.
“Not necessary.”
Zuri frowned.
Mama Esther descended the stairs slowly.
“He will feed himself through hard work and a clean life.” She stopped in front of Kito. “Won’t you?”
Kito looked at Zuri.
She nudged him gently with her elbow.
“Yes, Mama Esther,” he said quickly. “I will work very, very hard.”
Mama Esther studied him another moment.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
Zuri grinned.
“See? Settled.”
“You always make my work sound very simple.”
“It is one of my many talents.”
“One of your many annoyances.”
Zuri laughed.
She crouched slightly in front of Kito.
“Next time I see you, I expect more muscle.”
Kito immediately straightened.
“I can get muscle.”
“I hope so. At the moment I could snap you in half.”
His face became serious.
“If I do... will you marry me?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Mama Esther burst out laughing.
Zuri stared at him before laughing too.
“Kito!”
“I can work very hard.”
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
She reached forward and squeezed both of his cheeks.
“If you manage it, I will consider your proposal.”
His eyes widened.
“You promise?”
“Do not push your luck.”
Mama Esther was still laughing when Zuri stood.
“Take care of him.”
“I always do.”
Zuri gave Kito one last smile.
“Eat.”
He nodded.
“And no stealing.”
His expression became suspiciously innocent.
“Kito.”
“Yes.”
She pointed at him.
“I mean it.”
He smiled.
Zuri left before she could become any later than she already was.
Uri stood exactly where she had left her.
Zuri approached carefully.
“I know.”
The mare snorted.
“I said I know.”
Another snort.
“It was an emergency.”
Uri flicked her tail.
“There was a starving child.”
The horse stared at her.
Zuri placed both hands on her hips.
“You are very judgemental for someone who eats grass.”
Uri turned her head away.
“Oh, now you ignore me?”
Zuri mounted.
“Nia is going to kill us both.”
That earned a flick of the ears.
“Mostly me.”
She kicked gently and Uri moved forward.
By the time the palace came into view, Zuri was already calculating exactly how angry Nia would be.
One hour.
Perhaps one hour and twenty minutes.
Maybe slightly more.
Nothing unforgivable.
Probably.
She slipped through the servants’ entrance, returned Uri to the stable and pressed a quick kiss between the mare’s eyes.
“If anyone asks, you never saw me.”
Uri sneezed directly into her face.
Zuri stared at her.
“Traitor.”
She wiped her cheek and hurried away.
Getting back into her chambers required slightly more effort.
Zuri scaled the familiar outer wall, pulled herself onto the narrow ledge beneath her window and pushed it open.
Success.
She climbed through.
Her eyes immediately went to the bed.
A large bundle lay beneath the blankets.
Nia.
Zuri grinned.
“My wonderful, loyal—”
She launched herself onto the bed.
The bundle collapsed.
Zuri froze.
Pillows.
She slowly lifted one.
Three cushions had been arranged beneath the blankets to resemble a sleeping body.
“Oh.”
The door opened.
Zuri turned.
“Princess.”
Gwenda, the Alluhi, stepped into the room.
Behind her stood Nia.
Head lowered.
Hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Zuri’s stomach dropped.
Gwenda was not an especially large woman, yet somehow she possessed the ability to make every room she entered feel considerably smaller.
Her gaze moved from Zuri...
to the open window...
to the dirt on Zuri’s clothes...
then finally to Nia’s cloak still wrapped around her shoulders.
“So nice of you to grace us with your presence, Princess.”
Zuri straightened.
“Before you discipline Nia, it was entirely my fault. She told me not to go. In fact, she was extremely irritating about—”
“Your Highness.”
Gwenda’s voice cut cleanly through hers.
Zuri stopped.
“The King is awaiting you.”
“I—”
“The King,” Gwenda repeated, “has already waited long enough.”
That silenced her.
Zuri looked towards Nia.
Her friend finally lifted her head.
The panic Zuri expected was not there.
Instead Nia gave her one very small look.
Go.
Do not argue.
For once in your life, listen.
Zuri sighed.
She removed the stolen cloak from her shoulders and handed it back.
Nia took it.
“One hour,” she whispered beneath her breath.
Zuri grimaced.
“I know.”
“You said one hour and thirty.”
“I was negotiating.”
“You were gone nearly two.”
Zuri’s eyes widened.
“Was I?”
Nia stared at her.
Gwenda turned.
“Princess.”
Zuri immediately followed.
Whatever punishment waited for her could apparently wait.
Her father could not.
