Dragonfruit by Makiia Lucier

Author:Makiia Lucier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2024-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

18

THOUGH HE LIVED IN THE BAI WITH THE OTHER unmarried males, chambers continued to be kept for Sam in the royal pavilion. He made use of them, as it would be quicker to bathe here before seeking out his cousin Jejomar, who was an embarrassment and a disgrace.

Sam’s apartments opened up onto a courtyard at dusk. He passed a series of connecting gardens, veering behind statuary and potted palms whenever he heard female voices, mothers and daughters around every corner. Plumeria blossoms scented the air.

He would not have been the only one to have seen Jejomar fleeing the dragon. Running away when so many had stayed to help. Even Lord William! William, the ambassador of Raka’s fragile brother, had stayed.

And yes, understood, seadragons were scary. Maybe Jejomar could be forgiven for running . . . but he had not come back. Had not returned to check on the living, to help in any way. And that was why Sam was going to find him and wring his—

Sam whipped behind a statue of the god Olifat just as a group of ladies appeared around the corner. The statue was twice the height of a man, built on a pedestal. Olifat wore a fierce expression and no clothes. He held an outrigger between both hands as though preparing to crush it.

“Yes, Mama, I am trying” came a testy voice. “I am wearing my best dresses, and I spend hours on my hair each day. It’s not my fault Prince Samahti keeps disappearing.”

“Did you see how he slayed the dragon?” a second female asked, wistful and dreamy. Sam drew farther behind the statue, careful that no part of him was left exposed. “The prince is so brave and handsome. And he does not seem to care for Anaa, Mama. May I have him?”

“Your sister comes first” came a third female voice, older, exasperated. “Anaa, you must try harder. I hear the prince is fond of the ukulele. Perhaps you can play—”

“I hate the ukulele.” The women rounded another corner, their voices trailing away.

Sam stepped from behind the statue, only to come face-to-face with Uncle Isko and Bayani. His uncle wore black robes, left open to reveal one trousered leg and one bandaged leg. He leaned heavily on a cane.

“Hiding behind statues, Samahti?” Uncle Isko said drily. “Has it truly come to this?”

The man was everywhere you did not wish him to be. “Uncle. How are you standing? Here, let me carry—”

“Stay where you are. I am no invalid to be carried.”

“You shouldn’t be on that leg.”

“I offered already, Prince Samahti,” Bayani said.

Uncle Isko gave him a look, then turned back to Sam. “Where are you off to?”

“My aunt’s.”

“Ah.” Uncle Isko shifted his cane from one hand to the other. “Do you know, I’ve never seen that boy run as fast as he did this morning. Not in all his seventeen years.”

Sam wanted to return to his hiding place behind the statue. Jejomar’s embarrassment was his embarrassment. Who else had seen?

“That reminds me, training starts in a month,” Uncle Isko said.

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