She kept a straight face. “As did you, Beloved Queen. A shame you missed Oren-yaro’s last summer. I was there, as it happened. The plays retelling the stories of your heroes were particularly well-done this year. The people remain in high spirits, despite our recent troubles.” She was very good at skipping past what these troubles were—she paused long enough to pluck a mango from a fence and hand it to me. I wasn’t sure if this warm politeness of hers was easier to take than her usual cold courtesies. I dug a nail into the side of the mango and started peeling. My horse, smelling food, nibbled my shoulder. I took a bite before allowing him to have the rest.
“I trust this means the harvest has been good this year,” Rai said.
“It’s been good here,” she replied. “I’m not sure elsewhere. I’ve heard the Oren-yaro have been busy building their army. No need to look concerned, Beloved Queen—you’re with friends here.”
“Am I?” I asked in a low voice.
She smiled. “And it’s not as if Lord General Ozo tried to hide it, either. We do know how the nation tends to respond when the Oren-yaro army grows bigger, but… clearly these are troublesome times, with the war in the west, and these pesky bandits…”
“So you’ve dealt with this before,” Rai said.
“Shirrokaru has been lax with its patrols. Not that you can blame them. Princess Ryia wouldn’t allow the council to appoint a regent in the queen’s absence. We’ve all been effectively functioning as in the old days: to each their own, province before nation, and clan before all else.”
We reached the gates leading to Toriue, where guards arrived to relieve us of our horses. The Baraji castle was about twice the size of Oka Shto, with grounds that went much further. It wasn’t always theirs, of course. Back in the day, the province was called Laiong before the Baraji took control, renaming the city and the entire region after themselves. A common enough occurrence in that war-torn land; but the circumstances with which they won the castle for themselves were particularly noteworthy in that they tricked an entire family under the guise of friendship before murdering them in their beds.
Given that story, showing up at that castle’s doorstep probably wasn’t the wisest thing in the world. The words I knew better came to mind. But the risk of insulting Warlord Lushai when we knew that he knew more than he let on was just as great. I wondered why Rayyel continued to insist that he found Lushai trustworthy. I never did like the bastard. Most days, my father considered him a blubbering fool who would stab an ally given half the chance. Not just in the back—anywhere he could reach him.
We entered the great hall, which had the appearance of the Akaterru temples up in the foothills. Sunlight streamed through the windows from right under the ceiling, forming a circular, flower-like pattern on the floor. Warlord Lushai stood on the raised platform, arms folded over his chest. His long whiskers seemed to curl at the sight of me. “Queen Talyien,” he purred. “It has been far too long since you graced these halls with your lovely presence. I was surprised you answered my summons almost immediately. Pleased, but still, surprised. What was it you said, Nijo? Something about buffalo sprouting wings?” The layer of indignation was hard to miss, even as he tried to mask it. He stepped down to meet us.
I allowed him to take my hand. He had a limp grip. Combining that with the way he looked at me gave me the sensation of cold slime, one I wanted to scrub off with a rock under running water. I was almost relieved that he didn’t kiss it. He pressed the back of my hand against his forehead, the sort of thing that an elder like him would only give to someone in my position. I pulled my hand back immediately—I could still feel the oil of his sweat on my skin.
“You had a guest, you said.”
He sniffed. “I did say. Unfortunately, it will only be me and my son entertaining you for now.” He bowed, glancing towards the heavyset young man beside him, who took a step towards me. Lord Nijo, his eldest, and Chiha’s brother. He didn’t touch me at all, choosing to perform an elaborate bow in Zarojo-fashion.
“So where is Prince Yuebek?” I struggled to keep the irritation out of my voice. To be dancing around the biggest threat our nation had faced since Yeshin’s war seemed like the sort of thing they would be mocking us for in the years to come.
Lushai gave that crocodile smile of his. “He is… indisposed at the moment.”
If you don’t know Warlord Yeshin’s history with Warlord Lushai, I suggest the book Memoirs from the Beginning of the Wolves’ War by Ichi rok Sagar, with caution. It has created a myriad of controversy because of his portrayal of the women involved, but the tome also contains some fascinating details about both men and the arrangements that helped fuel the war.
Of course, I’ve never gotten past the first chapter. His account of Sume alon gar Kaggawa, one of the key figures of the war, is rather distasteful, especially considering she was supposed to be an ally of his. Perhaps it is a pity that I chose to let my personal aversions get in the way, because it’s supposed to be a well-written, well-researched piece, at least according to Rayyel.
In any case, I recommend you read something other than these tattered notes, because I never thought much of Lushai from the beginning. I knew his history with my father, and I knew that he played just as important a part in the War of the Wolves as Yeshin did. But I could only see him with Yeshin’s eyes—as nothing more than a man who would doggedly chase after the first shiny object so long as he knew the consequences wouldn’t be damning for him. When he agreed to support my father’s cause, it was with the understanding that he would lay all the blame on Yeshin should they ever lose and be put on trial. My father had accepted this with a bark of laughter and an open invitation for the opposing warlords to try their best. So while the rest of the land saw them as close friends—blood brothers, even—I saw only a man who would use grief for his own gain. Did he even believe in my father’s cause? If you asked him, he would say yes with conviction. If you asked me… well. I would sooner trust a crocodile not to tear my arm off.
“Indisposed,” I said, echoing Lushai. I glanced at Rayyel. I noticed they didn’t greet him. It was almost as if he wasn’t even there.
“The weather, he said, is too humid. He sends his deepest regrets.”
Too humid, no doubt, for that clay-scarred face. “Lushai. Please don’t tell me that I took all this trouble to respond to your invitation, gathered my people—the Beloved Princess Ryia aren dar Ikessar is on her way here as we speak—just so you could tell us that we wasted our time?”
Lushai’s face barely registered a flicker. He was used to my father’s outbursts. “We’ve prepared our best chambers for you,” he said, clicking his fingers. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey. Food will be sent to your rooms.”
The insubordination was so clear in his tone that my hand dropped to my sword almost instantly. Just as quickly, I felt Rayyel’s fingers around my wrist.
“Thank you, Warlord Lushai,” Rai said.
I still managed to clink my blade against the scabbard. “If you try anything, do remember that Bara has never once fought against Oren-yaro and won.”
Lushai gave a pained grin. “Your distrust wounds me, Beloved Queen. Consider this your home. Enjoy everything Toriue Castle has to offer.”
I followed Rai in silence. It was clear from his familiarity with the servants and the turns that he knew this place well. Too well. We reached a solarium, surrounded by the remnants of what were once hibiscus bushes. A fountain in the center struggled to gurgle water past the thin layer of ice on the surface.
“What is going on?” I asked, whirling around to face him.
He let go of my arm. “You were too distracted on the way up here.”
“Is that a problem?”
His face tightened. “Chiha took the news of the bandit attack as an opportunity to meet us first. She wanted to warn us. Her father is… acting strangely, and she needs our help.”
“When the hell did she tell you this?”
“She whispered it
to me right as we entered the city.”
“Is this really the time? The woman’s just appealing to your chivalric nature.”
He looked confused.
I struggled against the wave of anger. “Spit it out.”
He pressed a letter into my palm. “It’s an address in Bara. She wants to meet us there tonight. She says it’s urgent.”
I barely glanced at it. “Listen here, Rai. I’m not going to run blindly into a trap set by an old lover of yours.”
“I did the same with Agos for you.” Rai said it matter-of-factly, but it filled me with a momentary flush of shame. I fell silent.
He placed his hand on mine, the one still loosely grasping the letter. I think he wanted to say more, but words had never been his strong suit, and he seemed to change his mind and cleared his throat. “The guest quarters are out that way,” he said, indicating the hall with a quick gesture. “I will speak with Lushai alone. I feel perhaps that your presence intimidates him.”
“A snivelling dog like that? I’m not surprised.” But I saw the value in his suggestion and allowed him to walk away. Only when he had disappeared around the corner did I look down at the note. It was barely legible, scratched in haste. For a moment, I was tempted to tear it apart. I owed this woman nothing.
Instead, I tucked it into my pocket and continued down the path.
CHAPTER NINE
OLD GAMES
A servant emerged to lead me to a walled-off portion of the courtyard and down to a group of single-room dwellings, surrounded by stone paths. Guards in the Oren-yaro armour were waiting for me, none of whom I recognized from the march. The captain stepped forward with a bow. “Lakas asor arak Parang at your service, Beloved Queen.” He was a big man with a round belly, with the darker skin of someone from the southern islands—Akki or Meiokara. I couldn’t tell from the accent. But I knew the name.
“Lakas,” I repeated. “You’re Captain Nor’s husband.”
He bowed a second time.
“Your wife—”
“General Ozo has asked me to serve you in my wife’s absence,” he said, deflecting the impending question of his wife’s abandonment of her duties with ease. “He sent me ahead to ensure your safe arrival. We didn’t anticipate a bandit attack so late in the season—it’s the first in these parts. You have my apologies for that.”
A formal man. I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was one of Ozo’s dogs. He had to be. They all were, as far as I was concerned. “Is there news from the others?”
He paused for a moment before nodding towards the door, which the guards opened. He gestured for me to step inside. As soon as I had walked past him, he carefully closed the door. “Truth be told,” he began, “we purposely gave you fewer guards to see what she would do.”
She. Princess Ryia. I cleared my throat. “And she took the bait.”
He nodded. “I’m glad to see you unharmed. Unfortunately, we couldn’t capture any of the bandits alive. The only proof we have that Princess Ryia was involved at all was that no one dared approach Lord Rayyel. We were counting on your close proximity to his presence to keep you safe, but this won’t convince the council of her treachery, especially a council heavily influenced by the Ikessars already.”
“I didn’t know you were a politician, Captain Lakas. We’re nearly kin—be straight with me. Was this a promotion or a demotion for you?”
He frowned. “You are our highest priority at the moment. Ranks don’t matter—you need to be kept safe.”
“Was that in your pamphlets while I was running for my life in the empire?”
Lakas frowned.
“If Ozo wants to seize power, he can stop drawing this out. If he wants the throne, let him face me in combat! You have given me the title of queen, but you’ve made it clear it means nothing unless I carry out my father’s will. Yet it’s not Yeshin sitting on the throne, is it? I’m Dragonlord. Either you’re with me, or you’re against me. Which one is it, Captain?”
“The title…” Lakas began, his eyes on the floor. He took a deep breath. “The title is a reflection of what you can do for your people, not what they can do for you. This… this isn’t about you, Beloved Queen.”
Just at that moment, someone knocked at the door, and Lakas, looking slightly embarrassed at having lectured me, went to open it. A guard came in to whisper something in Lakas’s ear. He turned back to me. “Princess Ryia has arrived,” he said. “None the worse for wear.”
“What does Ozo intend to do from here?”
“Nothing,” Lakas replied. “We were hoping she would show her hand and we would have an excuse to ride against her. But as it is now, we don’t have anything.”
“We already know she’s out for my blood.”
“We’ve always known that. But you have nothing to fear. General Ozo is a devoted servant of Jin-Sayeng and will ensure your safety at all times.” His eyes were distant as he spoke, and I felt that same old sting, the one that I’ve carried with me all these years. I could see it now, name it even. How can I serve Jin-Sayeng from inside this cage? My own people—my own family—have kept me at arm’s length my whole life.
Khine appeared at the end of the courtyard. Lakas sniffed and went to intercept him. “I’m Inzali Lamang’s assistant,” Khine said, showing his empty hands. “I need to speak with the queen.”
“We know who you are.” Lakas’s fingers were on the hilt of his sword.
Khine frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“If you think the queen is so friendless that she has no choice but to entrust her life to the hands of a foreigner—”
“Captain,” I broke in.
Lakas tightened his jaw. “I can’t stop you from congregating with scum,” he said, turning to me. “But General Ozo wanted me to remind you who you are. You’re not Zarojo. You’re not an Ikessar. You’re a wolf of Oren-yaro.”
“There’s not a damn moment in my life that I’ve forgotten that,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “Now leave.”
He bowed and left without a reply.
“Your people seem awfully fond of you,” Khine said, following me inside the guest quarters.
“He’s Nor’s husband.”
“I should’ve recognized the scowl. They say when a couple spend too much time with each other, they start to look alike.”
“Good thing Rai left after three years,” I grumbled. “I remember Lakas being more cheerful than this. Whatever’s weighing on their minds must be a heavy enough burden. If they could just tell me, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard.”
“Clearly they support Yuebek’s claim,” Khine said. “Ozo didn’t seem very happy to learn that you killed Qun or that Rai let Ikessars into your castle. Of course, he wouldn’t be so vocal about it—not with Princess Ryia around.”
“You neglect honorifics with just about everyone but that witch. What gives?”
He paused. “She looks like a princess.”
“And I don’t?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“You know, Lamang, behind that ridiculously charming smile, you’re just as vicious as I am.”
“I think you’re wrong, but I’m glad you think I’m charming.” He grew serious. “Whatever Ozo wants lies in what he’s keeping from you. He must know how you don’t appreciate the dishonesty. I don’t believe that he’s abandoned this Yuebek business just because you’re back home. They’d prefer if you offered yourself up to him on purpose, of course, but barring that…”
“They know I can’t just set Rai aside.”
Khine shrugged. “The dangerous part is how quiet they are. They’ve got something up their sleeve.”
“So I’m trapped between my people, who want me to marry a monster and reclaim the power my father had given up for peace, and my husband’s people, who would see me dead for that same reason.” I sat down beside him with a sigh.
His lips twitched. “If I had an answer for you, Tali…”
“I’m not
asking for one,” I said. “Chiha… went under her father’s nose. She wants to meet me and Rai somewhere in the city.”
“Remind me again what happens every time someone hands you a note and arranges some clandestine assembly. Assassins, was it?” He crossed his arms. “Your husband is quite the prized possession. I’m a little envious.”
“It’s all in the grooming. Would you happen to know what a hairbrush is for?”
He tried to smooth his messy hair back into place. “That impressive moustache, I’m assuming. Maybe I should grow my beard out.”
“You… maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“And Yuebek—he didn’t meet us at all. Indisposed. Like I’d believe that.”
“Namra told me to let you know that she doesn’t think Yuebek is in the castle. He’s a mage, with enormous power and a connection to the agan that is difficult for other mages to miss, at least in a land as barren of mages as Jin-Sayeng. She told me that she should, at the very least, detect a faint wisp of it in the air. Unless Yuebek’s trying to mask his scent on purpose, but… she doesn’t think he would bother. We know he’s in Jin-Sayeng. Why try to hide?”
I sighed. “Rai wants me to go with him.”
Khine squinted. “He wants you to trust his ex-lover?”
“Evidently.”
His face twitched. “And, er—he doesn’t think she’s going to smash your brains in with a brick and drag you to a back alley?”
“She’s a princess.”
He smirked. “So are you.”
“You’re really not going to stop with these jokes, are you?”
“I’d make them forever if you’d let me.” There was a note of longing in his voice. I wanted to catch it the way I caught seed fluffs in the wind when I was little. Those carry wishes, Agos had said. If you hide them in your palm and whisper your life’s desires, someday the gods will grant them.
The door opened and one of the guards returned. He saluted without really looking directly at me. “The captain wants to inform the Beloved Queen that official translations are not needed at the moment and that Anong Lamang will be most welcome in the servants’ quarters, if it’s not too much trouble.”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 14