The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “Do I, really?”

  He smirked. “If you don’t, then I won’t burden you with my problems. But as a man of two minds about this whole situation, I can at least tell you that he wouldn’t have regretted a thing. He loved you. He was only doing what he thought was right. And you? You believed that, too. You cared for him, you found comfort with him. It’s enough. There are no right or wrong answers. We make choices and then we simply… live with the cost.”

  I fell silent again. We reached the city square, and he gestured to me to begin climbing the butchers’ warehouse near the market. Traversing the rooftops like cats, we made our way towards one of the poorer districts of Oren-yaro. I could see the River Agos gleaming behind the grey light in the distance, and the slums continuing along the southern banks. The buildings were almost on top of each other here, a crisscross of shadows and dilapidated wood: roofs of rusted shingles instead of clay tiles, and stone fences imbued with broken glass on top, to keep people out. Not that they worked, if our presence there was any indication. Khine once said that if you wanted to steal something and get out alive, you didn’t break down the front door.

  “Down there,” Khine started when we reached an alley. I struggled to keep my composure again as I recognized the district from when we had arrived, swimming our way from the river. Khine watched me as I sucked in a lungful of muggy air. “We can stop here if you want,” he ventured.

  “I’m all right.”

  He said nothing, waiting. Knowing I had more to say.

  “It’s just that… Agos was a captain, a decorated soldier of the Oren-yaro army. His pyre should be in the city square, where he could be honoured by his men and fellow soldiers, not on some dirty street corner. I did that. I tarnished his name. I ruined him.” I gazed down at the small square where a group of people were gathered around a still form lying atop a pile of stacked logs. I suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

  “They’re about to light it now,” Khine said. “It’s your last chance to see the body.”

  The bells tolled. Torchlight filled the streets. Through the blur of my tears, I saw the people walk towards the pyre. The first was unmistakably his wife; two little boys toddled in solemn silence behind her. I recognized the other faces as off-duty soldiers and castle staff. Some threw objects into the fire—small tokens, prayer beads, sealed letters containing their final goodbyes. I almost wished I’d had the foresight to write one myself. Not that I would’ve known what to say. Even now, my own thoughts seemed difficult to gather, drifting between memories of our time together and my revulsion over what my actions had caused.

  Agos’s mother threw herself at the foot of the pyre and began to weep hysterically. His wife bent down to pick her up, murmuring something into her hair.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” Khine continued. “Honour could be found here, too. Look at all those people. What better than to be remembered? To be missed? As far as they’re concerned, he’s a hero. And maybe they’re not wrong.”

  I steeled myself and climbed down the roof. Khine followed a step behind. I pressed a handkerchief above my nose as we joined the back of the line, hoping it was enough of a disguise. We had barely shuffled in place when we heard a commotion from one of the alleys. The crowd parted, revealing guards in full Oren-yaro armour. They marched forward. I stiffened, heart pounding. Khine drew me towards him, his hand cradling the back of my head in an attempt to hide my face even further.

  The guards stopped several paces away, ignoring me as they assumed a formation around the pyre. There was a moment of silence as they bowed, faces solemn with respect. Another figure emerged. This one was in Oren-yaro armour, too, but in the green and yellow colours of the Tasho clan, with a warlord’s helmet that towered over the rest of his men.

  “Ozo,” I hissed under my breath. I was torn between wanting to flee and lingering out of curiosity. Khine’s arm blocked me from deciding on the former. I peered past his shoulder at the sight unfolding, my breath gathering on the folds of his sleeve.

  The general’s movements were slow and deliberate as he made his way to the pyre. He stopped about a foot away, close enough that the heat must’ve been uncomfortable. He removed his helmet and cradled it under his arm. Agos’s mother, Hessa, gave another cry. He made a sharp gesture without even looking at her. One of the guards pulled her aside.

  I wondered if this was an elaborate ploy to draw sympathy from the crowd, but Ozo gave no speeches—not a single word fell from his lips. He stood in silence, head slightly bent, eyes downcast. The flames cast dancing shadows on his face, deepening the lines. Eventually, he turned on his heel and, after one quick glance at Agos’s sons, began walking away. The guards followed him out of the square in single file, the cracked cobblestones quaking under their boots.

  “Agos was always his favourite,” I said in Zirano. “He never quite forgave me when I sent him away. Now I don’t think he ever will. It must have grated to learn where his best man’s loyalties lay, let alone what he would die for.”

  I turned my head as several people came up to console Hessa. “Ignore him,” they whispered. “You raised a good son. The gods have welcomed him to their domain.” They crowded around the old woman until I couldn’t see her anymore.

  We finally reached the blaze. By now, the body was shapeless, no more than a lump of charred meat and bones in a sea of fire. It was no longer Agos. Guard, friend, lover… whatever he had been was long gone. I remembered that I hadn’t brought anything for the pyre and felt the pang of grief again. I never could really give him anything, could I? Not my heart. I tried, but you cannot will a heart to love any more than you can ask it to stop. The worst part is that he knew. He always knew.

  Khine slid a sheathed sword into the flames, his brows knotted together. I recognized the sword Agos had lent him days ago, when we were cornered by the assassin in Old Oren-yaro. Like Ozo, he uttered no words. Eventually, he stepped to the side and gestured. My thoughts drifted back to the pyre, to what lay within it.

  Agos. I wanted to say his name out loud. I felt like if I heard it with my own ears, I could convince myself that a part of him lingered on. That I could call and he would bolt down to be by my side like the dog I treated him no better than. Not wanting to stir the crowd, I took my handkerchief instead, allowing it to touch my lips before I threw it into the flames.

  “It’s the queen!” somebody cried.

  I froze. Khine drew his arm over me again. He was too slow. Recognition stirred on their faces. It felt like the moment before a thunderstorm—no rain yet, but a humming in the air, thick enough to make your skin crawl.

  Agos’s wife reached me first. Her hand struck me with a sound that resonated through the square.

  CHAPTER TWO

  OLD WOUNDS

  I stood there, stunned. If I had been attacked for any other reason, I would have stabbed her before she got close. But this was different. I barely felt the sting on my skin. It was the look in her eyes that reached deep, a dagger through my soul. The devastation of betrayal gleamed from them. She knew about me and Agos.

  It never even occurred to me to deny it, to pretend that she had gone mad with grief and that I was merely paying my loyal guardsman a visit. I was in the exact same place nine years ago. Nine years ago now, nine years too long, but still so clear in my mind it felt only like yesterday. I leaned forward, dropping my head. “I’m sorry,” I began. “I—”

  She struck me a second time, sending jolts coursing from my head and down to my fingertips, and then again and again until stars exploded in my sight. I could feel the blood dropping down my jaw where my skin had split open, could feel it pounding through my skull with every blow, but I didn’t move.

  “Sayu!” Hessa barked.

  She fell to the ground, weeping. Her sons—Agos’s sons—were staring at us. A boy with hair that spilled along his shoulders, and then a smaller one with balled fists, his cheeks still bulging with folds of fat. They were dark of skin like their mother, with Ago
s’s thick hair and stocky build. Before I could start looking for any resemblances to Thanh, I felt Khine return his grip on my arm. “It’s time we head back,” he whispered.

  I got up and we left the square. My thoughts were a blur. I didn’t even notice when it began raining. Cold water dripped down my face, washing the blood away. It felt like nothing.

  Khine brushed his thumb over the cut. “You’re just human, Tali,” he said in a low voice. “Queen or not, you have to forgive yourself for it.”

  “Have you?” I asked.

  I wasn’t sure if I meant it as a genuine question or a joke. The side of his mouth quirked up as he gazed at me thoughtfully.

  “Answer me,” I found myself saying, my hands crawling up to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my fingertips.

  “Why does it matter what I think?” Khine whispered. “I’m just a con artist from Shang Azi.” But even as he said this, he lifted his arms to envelop me into an embrace, as if he wanted to shield me from the whole world.

  I was glad for the rain and how it cloaked my tears. Only human. After a lifetime of wolves and falcons and whatever foolish words I’ve hid behind all this time, to hear it put that way was a balm to my senses. I wanted to tell him what it meant to me that he did—how I didn’t think I would still be here if not for him. That I would be dead, or dead inside, or somehow gone from the world if he had not found me on the streets of Anzhao the day we met. I didn’t think I could do it without becoming incoherent.

  But I kept myself there. In all the times I had found myself in his arms, I could always pretend to be someone else, and it was easier to do that now more than ever. The only discomfort I felt was the dreaded knowledge that it would soon end, as it had all those other times.

  And yet…

  I took another breath and in a wave of courage, reached up to kiss him. I didn’t know if he had been expecting it, because his only response was to kiss me back. Truly a liar, this man—he had said he would never let it happen again. Instead, he dared to deepen it, dared to let his hands wander where he had once visibly restrained himself from touching me. Gone was the desperation of the first. The warmth of his lips was a stark contrast with the cold, pelting rain. Hard to control, this human part of us; I wanted him to belong to me as much as I wanted to belong to him. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, wanted him to make me forget everything there was in my wretched life. What was the Dragonthrone to this? To someone who accepted the truth of what I was and still found a way to be there? I didn’t know what to do with this newfound knowledge of him, of what he was in my life. It was like being handed a chest from another kingdom’s treasury—you didn’t know what was inside or what it was worth, you just had the sense it was valuable.

  “Are you there, Talyien?”

  Straight from the dark, my husband’s voice slid through the air like a loosed arrow.

  I pulled away from Khine, suddenly self-conscious, and allowed my hands to drop to my sides. “Rai,” I called, attempting my most sardonic tone to chase away the heat that remained on my cheeks.

  He sauntered up from the end of the street. I didn’t think he had seen anything—he would’ve said something if he did.

  “I’m surprised your nursemaids allowed you out of the castle,” I commented dryly.

  Rai never did get my jokes. He glowered at me from behind the strands of his wet hair, as if he had been running through the city all morning. “You’re supposed to be in your room.”

  “Blessed Akaterru, Rai, do you realize you sounded just like Magister Arro right now?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes, yes. You don’t understand, you don’t look anything like Arro. Let’s just go.” I began to walk down the street. My heartbeat pounded against my ears. I needed to be more careful. Whatever it was I wanted, however that made me feel, I was still Rayyel Ikessar’s wife.

  Rai threw Khine an irritated glance—at least, as close to irritated as Rai could manage—before hurrying after me. “This sort of behaviour is ill-advised at this time,” he said. “The rest of the council—Ikessars, and representatives from your own lords—will be arriving any moment. I sent you transcripts from the last council meeting to prepare yourself on the off chance that—”

  “That Thanh’s father truly is Agos? You can say it for what it is, Rai. We’ve spent too many years tiptoeing around the truth. Your son could be another man’s, and while we worried over it like dogs snarling over a bone, Jin-Sayeng has fallen into shambles. The farmers in the west have rebelled against their unwanted warlord, led by a merchant with more resources than we could have ever dreamed possible. The same magical aberrations that caused mad dragons these past few decades are starting to affect people. A mad, foreign prince is coming for us under my own father’s orders, and we’re more concerned about whether a boy is a fucking bastard or not.”

  He glanced away. I couldn’t tell if it was the swearing or my tone he found the most discomfort in. “When the council calls for you, you need to be ready. The less fault they find with you—”

  “Ah,” I said. “With me. Always, it comes down to me. What about you? What about the things you’ve done?”

  His jaw remained taut. “Once this trial is over, we can proceed with dealing with the war out west and the Zarojo and whatever mess your father’s brought us to,” he said, deflecting my argument with the same ease he always did. “The less opposition we have in court, the better.”

  “I don’t see the point.”

  He regarded me with silence.

  “How do I put this so I don’t confuse you…” I rubbed my temples. “The trial only concerns the legitimacy of our son. I don’t know what the hell kind of show you or the council have planned, and I’m not sure I care. Maybe I’m glad he’s with Kaggawa, even if he is a power-hungry commoner with more money than sense. He’s safer there than around you vile snakes. Gods, I should’ve—”

  Rai’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you wounded?” he asked, changing the conversation.

  “You’re seeing things.”

  “There’s blood on your face.”

  “I ran into a wall.”

  He glanced at Khine, who crossed his arms and quickly pretended something else in the distance was more interesting. Rai sighed. “You went to your lover’s funeral, I suppose.”

  “You knew that was today.”

  “Why else did you think I sent you the transcripts? I thought it would occupy you for a few hours, long enough for this to be over before you realized it.”

  “How thoughtful of you, dear husband. Too bad I burned them in the fireplace.”

  “You burned the… you’re impossible. Lamang, does she listen to you? Ever?”

  Khine’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t answer that if you know what’s good for you,” I hissed. I turned back to Rai. “How did you think I would react to all of this? To the secrecy? As far as your council is concerned, I’m already guilty. Going through those transcripts wouldn’t have done a damn thing, and if I wanted to know what happened there word for word, I could just as easily ask you. I’m sure you have it all memorized.”

  “Don’t be overly dramatic. There is every intention of judging you fairly.”

  “So say you, the Ikessar, talking to the other Ikessars.”

  “You know the Oren-yaro lords aren’t allowed to have their say. They would be biased—”

  “—like hell they will! Have you seen the way Ozo looks at me? If you could stab with a stare—”

  “Why are you angry with me? Do you blame me for your lover’s death?”

  I swallowed. Guilt, again, spreading now. Agos had seen the way I looked at Khine, but Rai had never been good at reading me. If I pretended it didn’t exist, maybe he would never know. Maybe I could protect Khine that way.

  Khine coughed. “Not to interrupt this merry argument, but I believe I heard guards down the street. We need to go.”

  I felt the exhaustion weighing me down as I nodded. Rai
stiffened his jaw, ever the proud man.

  Khine strode ahead, leaving me to walk beside my husband. A strange arrangement, not even considering the circumstances that brought us there in the first place. Tangled like roots, muddier than a rice paddy during monsoon. I thought about Agos’s wife back at the square and the people around her, the ones who hadn’t stopped her from lashing out. If we had been back in the castle, she wouldn’t have been able to lay a hand on me. And yet out there amongst other common folk, it was as if we had been stripped bare of everything: two women, one who wronged the other, and nothing more.

  We reached the winding steps leading up to the mountain. “We should get you back to your quarters,” Khine said. “Does anyone else know she’s missing?”

  “I did alert my guards,” Rai replied with an almost embarrassed look on his face.

  I sighed. “Of course you did.”

  “I thought it was Kaggawa. I was not about to take any chances after what happened last time. That man… One could almost admire the audacity in thinking he could overturn the monarchy overnight.”

  “The audacity is backed with full coffers, a far cry from our bankrupt throne. The Anyu clan took the Sougen province for themselves when the rest of Jin-Sayeng was busy. If ambitious, landless royals could succeed, why shouldn’t a rich farmer try the same thing?”

  “He has your son.”

  “Our son, Rai.”

  His eyes skipped past me. “I do worry,” he said under his breath. “I worry about what Kaggawa would do to the boy in his attempt to grab power for himself. There is too much chaos out in the west, the sort of thing we are ill-equipped to deal with. Jin-Sayeng has been kept in the dark about the agan for far too long. What do we know about magic?”

  “You seemed confident they would agree to a trial that involves a mage.”

  “This Jin-Sayeng isn’t the Jin-Sayeng of the past. Rysaran’s dragon ensured that. It may not be something we speak about openly, but it is steeped in our history. The council accepted it readily.”