Naeemah clapped another ledger shut and pushed it to the side of her desk. Resting her elbows on the polished wood, she massaged her temples with a long, ragged sigh. The room of records told a long, horrific story. One that both infuriated and terrified her with each journal that she scoured.
Ichi Island was in a state far worse than she feared.
Naeemah fingered the corners of a stack of notes she’d culminated since Magni’s death. It was an arduous task that she hoped would bear a modicum of good news. A detail that she was missing to help restore the state of her homeland. So far, there had been nothing.
Magni’s frivolous spending had drained the coffers Naeemah had spent over a decade keeping in a careful balance within the first year of his rule. The Shells were planned from the start—assumedly a remnant of his previous world—and constructing the walls came at a great expense. The single positive side she could find to this disastrous pile of tomes was that Svarga and Eshe had maintained detailed records of his expenditures. Oh, there were a few notes here and there scrawled in Magni’s overtly elaborate handwriting, but the majority were penned with haste by his scribes.
You never stopped issuing orders, then sitting back and waiting for them to be fulfilled, did you?
Most of Magni’s income came from repeatedly completing the repopulation Quest—there was a full journal dedicated to the deposits from each Quest. However, the Bells were spent even before they arrived. Promised notes to merchants and traders for luxury items on other islands, overdue payments to his Ejderha, and the pittance he divided amongst the women building the walls. For years, he lived far beyond his means, sending payments to the cities outside of Rājadhānī in lieu of bothering to visit them. He was in over his head for years, which meant cuts had to be made.
It meant that the Third Shell had to suffer for his egregious mistakes.
Nyannies were reserved for the First and Second Shells only. Food and water were rationed to their bare minimum and their sources were blocked off from public consumption. Both had to be delivered to each citizen by an Ejderha. Copious bribes and shows of allegiance would earn them an extra week’s rations—a practice Magni himself encouraged for the additional coin.
They once had burial grounds for every girl who passed in Rājadhānī—a cemetery established long ago by the Temple of Saoirse and maintained by the women in the city. A selection of volumes held the names of those who had passed through during the many years the city had thrived. Several of those names Naeemah had written herself. This was a practice that had ended. In the final edition, a plethora of names were scrawled side by side with haphazard dates and approximate burial locations. Then, on the last page, was a single sentence from Magni, underlined four times.
Just put them in the walls.
His chilling notes written in the margins of a select few journals made Naeemah wish she could resurrect him only to kill him a second time. Slower.
Naeemah’s progress in Rājadhānī was slow and steady. Many of the First and Second Shell women were willing to share their homes with those of the Third Shell. The explosion was entirely cleared and work to dismantle the rest of the wall had begun, though it would take years to remove them both. Between the oasis and the water features installed in the inner shell, there was enough water to supply everyone many times over. The greatest threat on the horizon was food.
She’d had to make the difficult decision to ration food for everyone for the time being. It was an ordinance that turned many angry eyes her way; especially from those who’d enjoyed gratuitous privileges in the higher shells.
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The limit was enough for three meals a day for each woman and child in Rājadhānī, but the castle stores were draining quickly, and Magni’s paltry attempts at farming had yielded little more than his greenhouse. Restoring farmlands would take years, and while Naeemah had messengers out to the cities and towns that had once prospered in their harvests, she held little hope of positive replies.
A knock on the door snapped Naeemah from her thoughts. She pushed her notes aside and looked up. “Come in.”
Svarga stepped to the side, stopping so that her body was half-covered by the door. “Am I intruding, Lady Naeemah?”
“Not at all. I could use a distraction,” Naeemah admitted.
With a quick nod, Svarga slid inside and closed the door behind her. In her short time returning to Rājadhānī, Naeemah found that Svarga was one of the few she believed she could come to eventually trust. The golden-eyed woman was perceptive and diligent. She often kept to herself in her library but had funneled Magni’s records to Naeemah in a sensible order.
As much sense as they could make, anyway.
Svarga passed the packed bookshelves, her midnight blue skirts swirling around her ankles. “Have you discovered anything helpful in your research?”
“No. If anything, it only paints a more frustrating picture.” Naeemah needed someone to talk to about her findings. Someone immediate. A blank page with Cailu’s name written across the top was hidden beneath one of the stacks of books. As much as she missed him, Ichi was once again hers—she had to prove once more that she was capable of ruling.
Taking a seat across from Naeemah, Svarga smoothed her dress over her thighs and turned her ears to attention. “Would you mind enlightening me?”
“You, Eshe, and I know that our coffers are empty. It would be a simpler puzzle if I could use Magni’s purchases to trade or sell.” Naeemah tapped a book bound in red leather. “No one in their right mind would buy them. A golden throne, dozens of dragon statues, the hundred iron cages he used as punishment.” She narrowed her gaze. “Unless the Queen of Nyarlea herself is willing to redecorate her castle, what do we do with them?”
“Melt them down and sell the materials?” Svarga suggested.
“That thought had crossed my mind, and the process is something we can start now. But it will take an immense amount of time and resources to execute, and then we have to secure a buyer.” Naeemah leaned back in her chair and rested her hands in her lap. “Much of Rājadhānī’s trade was once empowered by the other cities of Ichi Island. Magni’s King’s Tax has essentially left them all penniless. In addition, as we aren’t close to a port, trade with other islands is difficult to establish.”
“Difficult, but not impossible.” Svarga stood and marched to a nearby shelf, tugging a large, teal-colored tome free. “Magni set up a string of Ejderha to deliver goods and offers to Dehri.” She flipped through the pages, then stopped. “Ah. Here we are.” She set the book on the table, brushing her hands over the pages.
Naeemah stood, peering over the careful outlines and markings denoting the topography of Ichi Island. “A map?”
“Mhm.” Svarga tapped a small depiction of the castle, then traced her fingertip along a dashed line.
“Time runs short for us all, Svarga,” Naeemah cautioned.
“I understand. But look, there are three Ejderha along this trail that await orders, then deliver them to Dehri in two days. There, a seasoned sailor brings these offers or goods to the nearby islands. The whole process takes less than ten days.” She grinned. “I happen to have it on good authority that high-quality equipment materials are selling very quickly.”
“The increasing Defiled threat,” Naeemah murmured. She’d been so focused on restoring the old trade routes with the outlying Ichi cities that the blacksmiths and armorers of the other islands hadn’t crossed her mind. She knew these women by name. And if she didn’t, Cailu would. But this plan hinges on a dangerous unknown… She frowned. “I thought the remaining Ejderha ran after Magni’s fall.”
“You bring me to the reason for my visit, my lady.” Svarga’s smile widened. “You have visitors.”
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