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

of the court and all things political, banished to the frozen wastelands of the north simply to be her consort.
    He must have seen the emotions warring across her face. “Tell him no, Aniri. Refuse him and come away with me. We could leave today.”
    “Dev—”
    He cut her off with a kiss. “We could return to Samir,” he whispered against her lips. “We won’t be rich, but we could travel anywhere you wished, all the places your father would have taken you. We would have all the time in the world. To be together. To learn the truth about your father’s killers. To make a family of our own.”
    It was precisely what they had planned. Now it all seemed like a hopeless fantasy. “Dev, I can’t simply abandon my country. If I refuse Malik, and there is war to pay, I cannot just run away… Is this the confidence you wanted to tell me?”
    Devesh looked torn, like there was something more he wanted to say but was holding it back. “I cannot offer you a Queendom, Aniri. My love is all I can promise. I hope it is enough to convince you to refuse Prince Malik’s offer.”
    He stepped back, and with clasped hands and a short bow, he turned and strode away. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest to follow him. If she accepted Prince Malik’s offer, she would lose the man she loved.
    Unlike the Jungali prince, she wasn’t sure that was a price she was willing to pay.

The night pulsed with dreams of flying machines, screams, and death.
    She chased after a man who looked like Devesh only to find he was a specter, a black wisp of smoke that dissolved under her touch. The dreams left her in a cold sweat in the morning, and no more certain of what her choice should be, even as she stood in front of the Queen’s chamber, hand on the brass doorknob, about to render her decision.
    Her mother waited inside. The prince waited in the Queen’s antechambers on the floor below. They both wanted a decision from her. She hesitated so long, fighting to calm the churning in her stomach, that the cool metal of the doorknob warmed in her hand. Finally, she turned it and pushed open the door.
    The Queen sat at her desk, several papers spread before her, but she wasn’t tending to them. Instead she held the pencil sketch of her father, the one Aniri loved so much.
    The Queen set it back down and rose as she approached. “Aniri.”
    “Your majesty.” She pressed her hands together and made a small bow.
    Her mother’s bustled silks brushed the papers on her desk, setting them ajar as she came around. She looked into Aniri’s eyes for a long moment. “Have you come to a decision?”
    “No.”
    The Queen frowned, obviously not expecting that response. “The prince is awaiting a response. Should I send him away?”
    “I…” Aniri covered her face with her hands, then swept them away. “Mother, are you certain this marriage will bring us peace with the Jungali?”
    “No, I’m not certain of that at all.”
    Aniri gaped. “Then why are you proposing I accept his offer?”
    “I only asked you to consider it, Aniri. I didn’t tell you which choice I would prefer.”
    Aniri just stared at her mother. Slowly the realization dawned on her. This was another test. “You wanted to see if I would choose quickly or if I would struggle with the decision.”
    “No, Aniri.” She sighed. “I don’t torment you unnecessarily, as much as you might find that hard to believe.” She walked back to her desk and picked up one of the papers. Curling paper strips were fixed to the sheet in her mother’s hand. Aniri recognized them as notes from an aetheroceiver, the wireless device that transmitted secure communications over the aether from Dharia’s outposts in the northern reaches of the Queendom. “I’ve had several scouts working to infiltrate the Jungali provinces, going under cover as tradespeople.”
    “For what purpose?” Aniri hadn’t told her about the internal warring between the Jungali factions, but she wasn’t