Free Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) by Susan Kaye Quinn Page B

“That, my lady, is a secret I am not at liberty to share.”
    She flashed a mischievous grin and slid open the door. It disappeared into a pocket, and the sound of train wheels biting into the tracks rushed in. A gush of air lifted Aniri’s loose hair into a writhing mass around her head, bringing a whiff of earthen countryside mixed with the bitter coal smoke of the engine. The walkway between the cars swayed and bucked. Her traveling clothes—a full corset and jacket over her tight silk skirt—were ill-suited for traversing it, but she would manage. Priya was more sensibly dressed in a long jacket over trousers. At Aniri’s hesitation, Priya quickly stepped ahead to repeat her lock-picking skills on the prince’s door, and Aniri followed after, grasping the cool metal railings to keep her footing as her hair whipped more furiously about her. As the prince’s door slid it open, Janak’s curse and boot-pounding steps sounded from the car behind them. He appeared at Aniri’s back, but he had no time to complain before Prince Malik’s guard rushed the prince’s door, blocking Priya’s access with his massive size.
    For her part, Priya seemed undaunted, looking up haughtily and saying loudly enough to be heard over the substantial train clacking, “The Princess Aniri of Dharia requests an audience with Prince Malik of the Jungali Provinces.”
    He frowned down at her, appearing unsure what to make of the spunky girl in the flapping silk jacket or the entourage behind her.
    “Farid!” the prince’s voice carried over the clattering. “Don’t make the princess’s handmaiden stand out between the cars. I’m sure she’s not too much of a threat.”
    Farid kept his frown, but he didn’t seem the kind of guard who was troubled by complicated thoughts, so he quickly stepped to one side. Even so, there wasn’t room for even slender Priya to slip past him without brushing the barbarian’s expansive chest, all the more imposing for his riveted leather chest straps and flintlock holstered at his side. Priya fluttered her hands at him, as if he were an enormous fly she could shoo away. He bumbled backward on unsteady clumping boots. Aniri struggled mightily not to laugh. The narrow entrance to the prince’s train car was now clear, and the three of them shuffled inside. Janak glowered at her, then closed the door, dropping a curtain of silence around them.
    The prince’s train car had been modified much as Aniri’s had, clearing space for the desk at which he sat. The car was less musty than hers, a fact she found annoying. Or perhaps the sweep of air from the open door had freshened it. A stray strand of her hair drifted in the residual breeze, and she hastened to smooth it down. The wind between the cars had probably left her less than royal-looking. The prince peered up from the papers he was studying and seemed startled to see Aniri.
    He rose hastily to his feet. “Princess Aniri.” He seemed indecisive for a moment as to what to do with the papers in his hands, then set them down on the desk and came around to greet her. “This is an unexpected surprise. I thought your handmaiden was simply requesting a visit.”
    “If this is an inconvenient time,” Aniri said, “I can return later.”
    “No, not at all.” He regained his composure with a small smile, pressing his hands together and giving a slight bow. “I will always have time for the future Queen of Jungali.” He gathered a pair of plush, ruby-red embroidered chairs, arranging them to face one another. They appeared to have been scavenged from another car because they didn’t match the blue-and-gold brocade of the rest of the room. As the prince gestured her to sit, he added, “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
    Aniri frowned, afraid she had already misstepped. “I had assumed, with the marriage arranged, that our courtship would begin right away. At least, that is Dharian custom. Is it not the same in Jungali?”
    “Our