I backed away and returned to the main hall. The bonytongue was still feasting. I suddenly remembered that my father kept one in a tank outside his study for the longest time. Paler than this one, so big it could swallow a kitten. My father claimed to have inherited it from his eldest brother, which meant the fish was a good half a century old. It died right before Yeshin’s own passing. Because of my father’s illness and the chaos at its heels, nobody discovered it until after the funeral, when one of the servants found it bunched up in the corner of the tank like tattered linen, covered in white fungus.
Prodding at that memory brought a conflicting mess of emotions, of grief and bitterness, but also a yearning so strong it felt like a fire inside of me. Where was my father? He was here the last time—he would know what to do. You could say every cruel word about my father and I wouldn’t disagree, but deep inside I knew he would not begrudge me answers. The man who had sold me to a monster, a man who was very much a monster himself, was still my father. He was my only father.
I knew that there was no sense trying to escape; the only way I could is if that was what Yuebek wanted from me, and I didn’t want a repeat of last time. I returned to the bedroom, crawling into the mattress and pulling the covers over my face. I forced myself to sleep, drifting past the aching emptiness and the dreams of large fish getting eaten by even larger fish and towards the memory of myself as a child on Yeshin’s shoulders, overlooking the world.
“Beloved Queen,” a voice whispered in a thick Zarojo accent. My eyes snapped open. I was back in that first room in Bara, a broken book in my hand. There were streaks of blood along my fingers and under my nails.
A servant approached, taking the book from me. She placed a basin of water next to the mattress and took out a wet sponge, which she ran over my skin, taking dirt and blood along with it. I flinched; scented oils had been dissolved in the water and it stung the wounds I had no recollection of acquiring. The whole time, she didn’t say a word. If she was Yuebek’s servant, perhaps this was a common thing.
Or perhaps… I cleared my throat. “I remember you from Zorheng.”
“You are correct, my queen,” she replied. “I was one of Lady Zhu’s handmaids.” She said this with her eyes downcast, never once glancing at me.
I kept silent as she turned to sponge the rest of my skin. When she was done, she showed me the dress she had brought. I frowned. “I know you’ll say I have to wear it—” I began.
“The prince was most adamant,” she gasped. I could see her inwardly praying I wouldn’t resist—at least, not out loud.
I picked it up, thumbing my fingers over the fabric. It was old-fashioned, the sort of dress that was in style before the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro and Jin-Sayeng’s relations had dissolved into dust—dull gold in colour, with lace patterns, loose sleeves, a pleated skirt, and a collar that went a little lower than I was comfortable with. I frowned even more.
She must’ve noticed the look on my face. “Making the prince angry is… not advisable.” She said this in Zirano, which was accented.
“You’re Jinsein,” I said. Khine had taught me to pay more attention to lapses in speech; Zirano wasn’t his first language, either.
She paused. “I was… brought to Zorheng when I was too young to remember. My father was an emissary.”
“An emissary brought his child… and left her there?”
She nodded. “It was right after the end of the war. My father never returned to Jin-Sayeng. We were ordered to serve there.”
I pressed my fingers against my temples. “But that must’ve been before Yuebek’s marriage to Zhu Ong.”
“It was right when their betrothal was announced.”
Ah, I suddenly thought. The emissary was sent as an appeasement. “What did your father do there?”
“He worked with Governor Radi Ong to maintain relations with Jin-Sayeng. I’m not sure of the details, Beloved Queen. They sent a half-Jinsein back to Oren-yaro in exchange.”
I blinked. “Arro. They sent Arro in exchange.”
She bowed. “If you mean Arro rok Ginta, then yes.”
“He’s a Zorheng native? But I thought he grew up in Jin-Sayeng.”
“I don’t know about that, Beloved Princess. He had a Jinsein mother. Perhaps he found it easy to pretend he did.”
I tried to push away the memory of Arro warning me of my interest in Zorheng. It was one thing to slowly come to the realization that my own father had trapped me into this, and quite another to believe that Arro would’ve ever agreed to it. The thought of the latter was so painful that since my return to Oka Shto, I’d avoided trying to unearth anything that had to do with Arro. I had so little left to believe in.
Yeshin. A thought came, unbidden. It held the sting of Ryia’s voice. He trusted no one but himself. He didn’t believe in people—he hated them and used them instead. You can be smart and go down that road, Talyien. Be Yeshin. You’re already one step in the right direction.
The maidservant cleared her throat. I wanted to argue again, but it occurred to me that she would probably pay more for my refusal than I would. I conceded and disrobed, allowing her to put the dress on me. Later, she led me out of the room and through a passageway that overlooked a cavernous entrance. There were guards down there, dressed in armour that reminded me of the Zarojo imperial regalia, only their shoulderplates ended in points and there was an etched arrowhead in the middle of their breastplate. The metal was also a light silver, nearly white. “Yuebek’s Boon,” I guessed. The maidservant’s continued silence told me I had it right. Had the Zarojo emperor finally allowed him full access to his army?
We stopped in front of a wide entryway guarded by more soldiers. They pulled their halberds to the side to let me through, leaving the maidservant behind. I entered a great hall with a single chandelier hanging above. There were men seated on individual platforms—I spotted Yuebek at the far end, his hands folded on his chest. At the sight of me, he jumped, scampering over the food tray and rushing to me with all the eagerness of a year-old dog.
“My queen joins us at last!” he cried, grabbing my hands, which I tried, unsuccessfully, to hide behind my back. He dragged me up to the seats, all but pushing me onto the mat beside him. I recognized half the men in that room. Radi Ong was the closest to us, his head bowed deferentially. There were three others whose names I couldn’t recall, but they were most definitely from Zorheng. And then at the far end, two faces I didn’t think I’d ever see again: Jiro Kaz, the bandit leader from the foothills near Anzhao and Anya Kaz’s husband, and Han Lo Bahn, lord of the slums of Shang Azi.
Yuebek must have been counting on me to react and couldn’t wait for me to do it by myself. He grabbed me by the sleeve. “Look!” he said, pointing at the last two. “Don’t you recognize them? Old friends, I believe! And men who hate each other, on top of all of that! What do you think, my queen?”
“I think,” I said, without taking my eyes off them, “that you must’ve run out of people to trust, Prince Yuebek, if these two form part of your council. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, are we?”
“Pah!” Lo Bahn snorted. “You’d say so.”
“I thought you were in prison, Lord Han,” I replied.
“I was,” he said. “How did you think I got out?”
“Did you have to crawl under Governor Hizao’s desk?”
“You’ve a sharp tongue.”
“Was that what Hizao told you?”
He laughed. “Your prince there gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I fixed my sleeve, hoping the wet spot on it wasn’t Yuebek’s drool. “Loyalty doesn’t mean a damn thing to you, I suppose.”
“I risked my neck to get you back home, didn’t I?” he replied easily. “Loyalty enough when it wasn’t even mine to give.” He tugged at his beard, which seemed to have been groomed for the occasion.
“This is your famed friendship with the queen?” Jiro Kaz broke in. He, despite his clean robes, looked just as rough around the edges as ever. �
��I should’ve known better than to believe you.”
“I’m surprised your wife let you come here,” I told him. “Last I recall, she was upset with me for what had happened in Anzhao.”
“Lord Han asked for my help. The prince needed people, and some of them had to be smuggled through the empire. My specialty.”
“I thought you hate each other.”
“I don’t hate money.” Jiro flashed Yuebek a grin.
Yuebek tugged at my sleeve a second time. “There’ll be time for making acquaintances later,” the prince huffed. “For now, there’s still the matter of the missing brat.” He glanced at Jiro and Lo Bahn. “I thought you said you had it under control. You know her dog escaped with him, don’t you?”
He was talking about Khine. I managed to peel his fingers off my dress before he ripped it and pretended to touch the food in front of me. There were rice balls dotted with black sesame, pickled cabbages, and sliced raw fish with the head intact. The fish must’ve been killed mere moments ago—it stared back at me, jaws quivering. I remembered the monsters in the tanks in Yuebek’s dungeons and suppressed a shiver.
“He’s hard to find if he doesn’t want to be found,” Lo Bahn said. “I don’t want to arouse his suspicion.”
“We can agree on that,” Jiro added. “We need to take our time. If we go straight to him, he’ll be suspicious.”
“Mundane details,” Yuebek snorted. “The boy—we can’t stroll into Toriue Castle without the boy. I need him to announce our betrothal. It would make for such a grand entrance.” He tried to reach for me again, and looked irritated that I had moved too far away.
“Princess Ryia is still in Toriue,” I reminded him. “You’d really make such a bold claim in front of her?”
“Why do you think I sent Belfang?” Yuebek asked. “I wanted to lure the witch here. She represents the most powerful clan in your puny little nation, and the sooner we can knock her down, the better. Belfang pretended to assist in your humiliation to ensure she would be tempted to leave her sorry little hole.”
“The Esteemed Prince’s wisdom exceeds all,” the men in the room—with the exception of Lo Bahn—uttered together. They clasped their hands and bowed.
I stopped myself from laughing.
“Dangling what someone wants the most in front of them,” Yuebek continued, “is the best way to ensure you get what you want. Isn’t that right, my queen?”
I didn’t say anything. My son was safe from him, so long as he stayed with Kaggawa.
He smiled at my silence. “You must think I’m daft,” he said. “You must think you’ve got it figured out. From what I understand, he’s with rebels. Who’s to say they won’t stick him if I, say, offer them a reward?”
I felt cold sweat trickle down the back of my neck.
“They say he is with a man called… Dar… Dan… Kaggawa, is it?” He pointed at one of his servants, who rushed forward with a bamboo scroll. He flicked it open and snorted. “Dai Kaggawa. A merchant. Merchants only care about money.”
For the first time in weeks, I found myself suddenly glad that Kaggawa was as pompous of an ass as he was. No—Yuebek didn’t know people as well as he thought he did. Intelligent, but shortsighted where it mattered the most. I strove to remember that and watched as he handed the scroll over to Ong, who bowed as he took it. “Let him know how well I’m willing to pay for that brat, too,” Yuebek said. “Give it to your bastard Dragonlord to know how to do one thing right, Beloved Queen: make more bastards. I can’t wait to rid this nation of them. The fewer potential heirs to compete with ours, the better. I told Qun to take care of him, but the damn fool thought he could use your boy to ensure your compliance. Showed him—you took care of him instead, didn’t you? How did you do it? They said he fell off the ravine.”
“If you hurt my son, what makes you think I won’t murder you in your sleep?” I asked in the smoothest voice I could muster.
It was amazing how nearly every person in that room didn’t seem to hear me or the venom that dripped from my tone. Only Lo Bahn glanced away. Yuebek, though—Yuebek simply responded with his usual howling laughter, as if I had done nothing but threaten to caress his head. Bile crawled up my gullet. “Your fire has always amazed me,” Yuebek said. “Let’s see it in a more useful form.” He clapped his hands.
A servant approached us with a tray covered in silk cloth. He bowed as he placed it in the center of the room before pulling the cloth back, revealing a Hanza set. With another elaborate movement, he picked it up again and deposited it in front of the prince. “Your father’s favourite game,” Yuebek said, drawing his sleeves back to show his hands. “Mine, too, incidentally enough. As it turns out, we’re all cut from the same cloth.” He gestured, offering me the first move.
I almost didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of bullying me into providing entertainment. But I was also curious. Hanza had always been the easiest way for me to see how my opponents’ minds worked, and so I moved the obligatory piece.
Yuebek barely glanced at me. His attention drifted to Ong, who cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Esteemed Prince,” Ong said, looking up from the scroll in his hand. “It is my understanding that Kaggawa is currently embroiled in a civil war with the local warlord. Sending a message to him might prove to be problematic.”
“Jinseins and their petty wars.” Yuebek laughed as he made his move.
“We do like them,” I said as I matched his piece. “Ojika Anyu and Dai Kaggawa have been at each other’s throats for years. Anyu has enough loyal bannermen and an army of six thousand the last time I checked, but Kaggawa is supported by many of the landowners, who have resented the royals’ intrusion for decades. I’m still not convinced this is the sort of trouble you gentlemen are equipped to deal with.”
“My queen believes she knows politics,” Yuebek giggled. “You Jinsein women are truly something. I’m not surprised your men allow you to lead.” He captured three of my pieces before settling back with a satisfied grin.
I could’ve protected them better and silently kicked myself for being too distracted. “I know my own,” I bristled. “When will you learn that your primped Zarojo eccentricities count for nothing here?”
“Nothing,” Yuebek repeated, his eyes gleaming. “Do you not recall how I’ve secured cooperation from at least three of your warlords already? More will fall, in time.” He gestured at the Hanza set. I glanced down. In the process of capturing those pieces, he had set himself up so that my next move would sacrifice whatever piece I played.
I gritted my teeth and stared at the board. I had made a fatal error; my father would’ve shaken his head in disappointment had I done it in front of him. I was tempted to stop drawing it out and admit defeat. But I glanced up at Yuebek and realized this was what he wanted. He could read the devastation on my face—I could see the celebration on his. He might as well have been licking his lips.
“Cooperation,” I stated, making a pretence of glancing across the room. “I assume these three warlords are Ozo, San, and Lushai. Do you think the other warlords would fold so easily?”
“If I asked her to be silent, would she?” Yuebek asked the men.
“I believe the queen is simply—adjusting to her new circumstances,” Ong said, clearing his throat. “Jinsein women are allowed too much power in these parts. I’ve been told it was not a problem in the past, when the Zarojo influence was still strong. Even the Ikessars’ trusted adviser Ichi rok Sagar would rather her father become Dragonlord than Princess Ryia. Of course, Warlord Yeshin preferred to do things his way, and in the end Magister Ichi had no choice but to put his full support behind a woman. The reality of the political climate in this region… the Esteemed Prince may have to… teach the queen the true meaning of subservience…”
“The same subservience that saw your daughter stabbed in front of your very eyes, Ong?” I asked.
Ong had the decency to flush.
“Womanly subservience or not, you were still her fa
ther,” I continued, fixing him with a stare. “You betrayed her trust in you. A child who must’ve looked up to you, who loved you, who didn’t think twice about your intentions… this man killed her in front of your very eyes, and what do you do? Grovel and continue to worship him.”
Sweat poured down his face.
“I don’t see what you hope to gain from insulting my men,” Yuebek said. “Ong will readily admit he’s a bootlicker if you hit him long enough. Won’t you, Ong?”
“I am ever my prince’s servant,” Ong said, bowing so low it looked like he sank to the floor.
I moved the queen piece forward. Yuebek’s eyes danced. “Giving up already?” he laughed. “And you couldn’t just say it, could you? First you needed an elaborate show…!” He lurched forward, grabbing the piece, along with the three soldiers behind it. I was almost out of pieces, all but defeated. Most people would walk away.
I blocked his king with mine, calling a draw. A pointless maneuver. You were still scored by how many pieces you had left on the board. But my refusal to submit turned his face sour. It contorted like a child on the verge of a tantrum. He grabbed the edge of the board and flipped it upside down before he stepped on it, pieces and all. I could hear the shells crack under his boot.
In the ensuing silence, rain began to fall, crashing on the roof with the sound of crackling oil.
“Speaking of women,” Lo Bahn finally broke in, his voice booming like fireworks in the great hall, “I’ve procured quite a few talented beauties as a gift to our gracious prince for all he has done for us.” He clapped his hands. The doors opened, and about a dozen half-dressed young women filed into the room, throwing themselves at the men. Most looked pleased at the interruption, with the exception of Jiro, who shrugged away with discomfort, and Ong, who remained on the ground, forehead on the floor.
Two made their way towards us and had the decency to curtsy first. “Perhaps the Beloved Queen will want to retire before you continue with the rest of the talks?” Lo Bahn asked in a voice that was unusually polite, coming from him. “I don’t believe she is relevant for the rest of it. If I may be allowed to escort her back to her chambers…”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 18