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

beast’s carpeted head. Its wide head rolled at the intrusion, rocking back and forth, but its body didn’t move.
    Janak held the four-step stool as Aniri and Priya climbed up. He followed them into the carriage, which smelled of fresh hay and wood, and not the stench of raw animal that she expected. Once the door shut soundly behind them, the beast lurched, forcing Aniri to grip a rough wooden handle in the middle of the seat. They tipped sideways, then righted again, all in one rolling motion that made the endless rocking of the train seem like a paragon of steadiness.
    When she dared to peer out the tiny portal windows, the train station had swung out of their view. They were high in the air, already lumbering away.
    Priya gawked out her portal, chattering while Aniri tried to keep her lunch down. “The shashee are the royal animals of the Jungali. The driver told me they once were the main transportation for the Jungali people throughout the provinces. Now they are reserved for the borderlands and for Devpahar’s festivals. This shashee is much more highly decorated than the one the prince is riding, my lady. I believe this must be his personal shashee, or at least a royal one of his court.” Priya frowned when she looked to Aniri. “Are you feeling well, my lady?”
    Aniri swallowed down the sourness at the back of her throat and kept her gaze out the window. It helped, slightly. Aniri breathed out her answer, “Yes, I’ll be fine. Where on earth is this beast taking us, Priya?”
    “Why to Jungali, I imagine, my lady.” Priya went back to staring in wonder at the darkening mountains outside, as if Jungali were a magical place, so naturally they would ride a painted beast of the gods to get there.
    As the rocking of the animal reduced to a gentle swaying motion, Aniri’s stomach began to settle. She hazarded a glance around the interior, noting the plush red velvet of the walls, the thick glass of the windows, and the brass and wood trim at every corner. It certainly seemed lavish for a regular transport. Aniri poked the cushion and trailed her finger across the soft crush of fabric lining the walls, hoping for a hidden panel or compartment. Perhaps Prince Malik had stashed some of those communiques he had been so earnestly studying in his train car, but she found nothing.
    Janak seemed satisfied that all was safe and secure in their tiny traveling cabinet, judging by the way he had tucked his chin down for a nap. The terrain outside quickly fell to darkness as they climbed the foothills. The path outside was lit only by the swinging spotlight of the oil lamps hanging from the corners of their carriage. It didn’t seem wise to travel through the mountains at night, but on top of the giant beast, they felt untouchable by any threat.
    She could see now why Dharia’s steamer tanks wouldn’t be able to penetrate the foothills. The canyons were narrow, the rough road steep and narrower still, and there was little room for mechanized transport, especially the kind that relied on steady flat terrain. Surely their cavalry could climb the foothills as well as this shashee, but if the Jungali possessed war animals—armored not with ornamental brass and red carpet, but steel plating—they could prove formidable in the winding canyons.
    The lights of the carriage danced around the darkness of the canyon, and they traveled some time in silence. Finally, a rapid series of taps from the front heralded an end to the swaying. Even though the beast was finally motionless, it was as if the ground still moved beneath her. It reminded her of the day her father had taken her out in a small skiff, sailing a peaceful, blue bay off the western coast. She had adapted to the gentle swells of the water, but when she returned to land, it was as if she had never walked before.
    When the carriage door opened, Prince Malik himself appeared standing on a steel lattice outside. “Did you fare well with the travel, your highness?”