by Claire Luana
“Excellent,” Jurou said. “I have several theories, you see. Some scholars believe that worlds like ours have lifecycles, and perhaps ours is nearing the end of its life. Hopefully, it would be reborn, of course, though that wouldn’t help any of us.”
“Ah,” Kai said politely.
“Now it could also be a result of the secularization of our great nations. Perhaps a return to more zealous worship is what is needed to soothe the gods’ anger.”
“Both excellent theories,” Kai said. “We will owe you a great debt if you can find a solution.”
“Now I have several other theories—”
“Jurou,” General Ipan cut in, “I’m sure the queen has many tasks to attend to. Perhaps we could arrange another time where you could present your most promising theories after comparing notes with Master Vita.”
“Of course,” Jurou said, rubbing his hands nervously. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I have a tendency to get carried away sometimes.”
“No apology necessary,” Kai said.
“I would like to head to the library now if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely. I’m sure Master Vita will make you feel right at home. Nanase, please have Jurou escorted to the library. I will be in my chambers.”
Jurou retrieved his satchel, heaving it over his narrow shoulder and heading after Nanase.
Thank you, Kai mouthed to General Ipan behind Jurou’s retreating figure.
He winked.
Once Kai was around the corner from Daarco and the others, she picked up her pace and jogged to her chamber. She hadn’t had a minute to herself since she had awoken. It turned out that queens didn’t get much time alone. Almost none, in fact.
When she entered the carved wooden door, Quitsu was laying on the thick coverlet. He hadn’t wanted to see Geisa, and Kai didn’t blame him.
She flopped on the bed next to him and gave his head a scratch.
She still hadn’t gotten used to this life. Perhaps she never would. Her chambers were large and sprawling, taking up the entire floor of the tower. The bedroom, which connected to the sitting room on one end and the washroom on the other, was lined with tall windows swathed in thick velvet drapes. The floors were covered in lush white carpets that were just about the most impractical things in the world.
The bed dominated the room, a huge monster four-post affair with more pillows than a whole family would have back in Ushai shoen. The coverlet was made of soft silk trimmed with silver fringe that she toyed with when she couldn’t sleep. There were a lot of nights when she couldn’t sleep.
Quitsu had been unusually silent the past few minutes.
“What’s wrong, furball? No witty jabs today?”
He rolled so his back was to her, hitting her in the face with his long fluffy tail.
She sat up, rolling him back over so he was looking at her. His snout was set in a thin line and his pointed silver ears were laid back on his head. Though adorable as ever, he looked…angry.
“Are you mad at me?” Kai asked with incredulity.
“You almost got us killed,” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You didn’t even think before you burst into that house to help that man. How could you be so careless? Don’t you see that we all depend on you? Everything depends on you!”
She recoiled as if he had struck her. “You’re the last person I need this from. You know I never asked for any of this! I never wanted to be queen.”
“But you are, whether you like it or not.”
“I know that,” she said defensively.
“Do you?” he peered at her, his ebony eyes cutting through her defenses.
She looked away. “I guess,” she muttered.
“If you’re truly embracing being queen, why have you kept Hiro at arm’s length? A child could see you’re hopelessly in love with him. Why haven’t you even discussed an engagement with him?”
Her cheeks reddened. “There’s been so much going wrong. The time never seemed right…”
“Things haven’t always been this bad. That’s not the reason, and you know it.”
Kai’s face was burning now. Her lip quivered. Don’t cry. “I don’t deserve him,” she said quietly.
“I can’t hear you,” Quitsu said.
“I don’t deserve him!” Kai shouted. “I don’t deserve any of this. I’m no one. I keep thinking he will wake up one day and realize that I’m plain and boring and he deserves someone better. Or that someone is going to march in here and say they made a mistake making me queen and throw me out on my backside! I don’t know what I am doing! I don’t know how to be queen! I don’t know how to fight a god and goddess! Or a…whatever that thing is. I can’t do any of this.” Kai took a pillow and threw it at the stone wall with all her might. It exploded, raining a shower of goose down feathers over the bed. She blinked, looking at the mess through the refraction of tears in her eyes.
“Feel better?” Quitsu said. His signature grin was back on his face.
A smile quirked at the corner of Kai’s mouth. It spread and she grabbed the other pillow, smacking Quitsu with it.
He yowled in mock pain, darting around the bed until she pulled him towards her chest with a sniffle.
“I’m sorry I put you at risk,” Kai said. “I didn’t know he had spotted fever.”
“I know. It was an accident. But you have to be more careful. Tsuki would welcome any opportunity to take you out.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “It would have been a lot simpler if I’d just died of spotted fever.”
“For you maybe! What about the rest of us?” Quitsu said. “Well, not me, I would have been dead too.”
“It would have been very selfish of me to die,” she said, cracking a smile.
“Exactly. You’re queen now. It wasn’t a mistake. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You need to embrace it until you feel it in every fiber of your being,” Quitsu said.
She buried her face in his fur. It was as soft as silk under her hand, and she could smell the scent of him, fresh as new-fallen snow. The handprint on her chest thrummed at his nearness.
“Do you feel…different since we awoke?” she asked. She stood and went to the mirror, pulling the collar of her shirt aside to reveal the mysterious handprint.
“Yes,” Quitsu whispered, jumping up on the table to examine the mark. “I feel more…alive somehow.”
“Me too,” Kai said.
“Do you remember any of what happened?” Quitsu asked.
She shook her head. “You?”
“I remember…feeling frightened. And then feeling safe. That’s all,” he said.
She brushed the scarred skin of her chest with her fingertips. “We should have died, Quitsu. But somehow, we didn’t. We need to remember how. Why. It’s important. I can feel it.”
Ryu seemed to know things in that strange seishen way. When Hiro was coming of age, Ryu would tell Hiro which courtiers were interested in him only for his crown. Which turned out to be all of them, much to his younger self’s frustration. Ryu’s talents were useful in all sorts of situations—card games, politics, managing his Kitan estates. Hiro owed much to the insights Ryu shared with him.
Nevertheless, Hiro was still startled when Ryu told him that General Ipan had landed at the citadel with Jurou and Daarco over an hour ago.
They would be housed in the west quarters—the wing was filled with rooms kept open for visitors and dignitaries. Hiro’s rooms were located in the same wing, though he hardly felt like a visitor anymore. He fingered the ring nestled in the pocket of his jacket. Not a visitor, but not quite at home, either. Not yet anyway.
“Why in Taiyo’s name did my father send Daarco?” Hiro muttered under his breath as he rounded a corner, searching for the sunburner visitors’ quarters. Kai already had enough to worry about; she wouldn’t be happy about this development.
“You could ask him,” Ryu said. “He would know better than I.”
“Maybe I will.” He could ask Na
nase to borrow the bowl she used to communicate with the sunburners in Kita. But in truth, he didn’t want to talk to his father. Their correspondence as of late had been growing more and more unsettling, leaving Hiro with the feeling that he was going to soon end up between a rock and a hard place—namely his father and Kai.
A moonburner guard was posted at the door, but she stepped aside as Hiro and Ryu approached. Muffled voices argued from within the room.
Hiro let himself in.
The scene inside gave Hiro a sense of déjà vu. Daarco was draped over a lounge chair in front of the empty fireplace, a glass of sun whiskey in his hand. He hardly looked up when Hiro entered.
Jurou was standing by a table, flipping through a leather-bound tome he had apparently brought with him. The man was a true bookworm, but also whip-smart and politically-savvy. He played a critical role on Hiro’s father’s council. Hiro trusted the man implicitly, as did his father. That he was here was a very bad sign indeed.
“Planning an invasion?” Hiro half-joked, shaking Jurou’s hand.
“This is probably the most sunburners the citadel has housed since its inception,” Jurou said. “Well, that’s not true. At least six came before the Flare War with Ozora’s delegation, and then there was King Oxalta’s envoy one-hundred and forty years ago, give or take—”
“It’s a sign of changing times,” Hiro said. He had long since given up feeling guilty interrupting the man. Jurou could go on for hours if left unchecked. “We are allied now. It’s a sign of growing trust.”
Daarco snorted and Hiro shot him a pointed look.
“Perhaps,” Jurou said. “Troubled times.”
“What are you doing here?” Hiro tried to ask the question gently.
“I have two purposes. What I am about to tell you, I trust you will not share with the queen. I understand you two have grown close, but your true allegiance lies with Kita, does it not?”
Hiro furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know the two were mutually exclusive. Tell me why you are here, and I can assure you that I will keep it quiet if I believe it to be in the best interest of Kita. That will have to suffice.”
Jurou looked at him for a moment with his piercing blue eyes.
“Your father is concerned about the Oracle’s prophecy. It’s coming true. Since the peace treaty between Kita and Miina, strange things have been happening. The drought, the spotted fever, but more than that. Things you have not heard about yet. Things we have been trying to keep quiet. A horde of locusts descended on some farms in Western Kita. But they didn’t just eat the crops. They were flesh-eating. They destroyed the cattle, the livestock—even people who were unfortunate enough to be caught outside.”
Hiro’s stomach turned.
“There is more than I can even recount. We cannot ignore that these horrors may be caused by the gods’ anger.”
“You can’t believe that superstition,” Hiro protested.
“We can’t afford not to,” Jurou retorted. “Of course, I am looking into alternative explanations. But often the simplest explanation is the right one.”
Hiro nodded reluctantly. “We have reached the same conclusion here. We have to be open to the possibility that the disasters are caused by the gods. But that brings us no closer to a solution.”
“My first mission is to see what I can find in Miina’s library. Maybe there are texts that reveal more about Tsuki and Taiyo’s proclivities and how to placate them.”
Relief flooded him. Jurou was here to help. Then Hiro remembered the man had said first mission.
“Your second purpose for being here?”
“Yes. The secret one. I am to evaluate the citadel’s leadership and defensive capabilities. If worse comes to worst… your father is willing to break the alliance.”
“What?” Hiro exploded. “How could that be on the table? It’s the first time we’ve had peace in hundreds of years. We finally sent our soldiers home to their families. Now you want to call them back?”
“The king is being practical, examining all options. War is preferable to starvation. These gods know how to hit us where it hurts.”
“It’s not natural,” Daarco said from his chair, still looking into the fireplace. “Peace between sun and moonburners. It’s not natural.”
Hiro rolled his eyes. “Your mother was a moonburner. None of us would have been here if not for a moonburner and a sunburner getting along, at least for a short while. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not natural.”
Daarco stood, setting his empty glass down. From his red-rimmed eyes, it hadn’t been his first drink. “Moonburners killed my father. I saw his body, burned and blackened by their evil. I vowed that day to make them all pay. So you’re sure as hell right that I don’t like it.”
Hiro massaged the bridge of his nose, holding his frustration in check. He hardly recognized Daarco anymore. “Jurou, I will keep your orders to myself…for now. But I trust you will do everything in your power to ensure that you find a solution in the library. That is the only type of solution I will accept, understand?”
“Understood, Prince Hiro.”
“Daarco, I’d like to talk to you in the hall for a moment.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Daarco said with a mocking half-bow.
They closed the door to Jurou’s chamber, and Hiro pulled Daarco by the arm down the hallway.
“We’ll be less than one hundred paces away,” Hiro said to the guard as she moved to follow them. As soon as they turned the corner, Hiro rounded on Daarco, slamming him into the wall. “Why are you here?” he hissed.
Daarco seemed taken aback, sobering up for a moment. “Your father sent me. To teach me….tolerance,” he mumbled.
“How is that going?” Hiro asked. “It seems to me that so far you’ve managed to get drunk and continue to hate moonburners.”
Daarco glared at him.
Hiro softened, taking his hands from his friend’s shirt collar. “Everyone lost someone in the war. I know it stings, but…it was war. My father’s decree resulted in Kai’s father’s death, and she has found a way to forgive.”
Daarco opened his mouth to say something, but Hiro held up a finger to silence him.
“Despite what Jurou says, our future is peace with the moonburners. If you want to be a part of that future, you have to find a way to get past your hatred.” Hiro looked at his friend, seeing the small boy he knew as a child grieving over the loss of his father. “You have hated for so long. It drains you. Try to lay it down. Or you can’t stay.”
Daarco nodded, averting his eyes from Hiro’s. “I’ll try. That’s all.”
“That’s all I ask,” Hiro said. Hiro didn’t need Ryu’s abilities to see that his friend had been drowning his sorrows in sun whiskey. Daarco’s warrior’s physique had softened and he had put on weight around his middle and under his chin. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was blotchy.
Hiro felt a stab of guilt. He had been away too long. He had left his friend to his own devices and this is what had happened. Daarco’s hatred of the moonburners was slowly killing him.
But now that Daarco was here, Hiro would do his damnedest to make it right. He would drag Daarco into this new era—kicking and screaming if he had to.
“You should have something to do while you’re here,” Hiro said, racking his brain. How could he keep Daarco occupied? Who could put up with him?
A brilliant idea dawned on him. Someone just as tough as Daarco who wouldn’t take any flack.
“Would you consider helping in the armory? Assisting with teaching weaponry and tactics and such?”
“Fine,” Daarco said, apparently defeated for the time being.
“You’ll help Chiya,” Hiro said. “That’ll be perfect.”
The next night fell quickly, and Kai could have sworn that there was a crisp of autumn in the air. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she felt hopeful nonetheless. She had slept the full day, spared from the worried tossing and turning that had filled
her nights as of late. Her steps were light as she and Quitsu made their way to the stables for her weekly ride into the city.
Her mood was further buoyed when she encountered Hiro in the stables, saddling his tall chocolate stallion.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, straightening the buttons of the fitted leather vest he wore.
“I was hoping I could accompany you this evening. If you’ll have me,” he said, gazing down at her.
Kai examined the ceiling, pretending to consider. “I suppose, since you did help save my life yesterday, I could bear your presence for one ride.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, his voice filling with emotion. “You saved yourself without any help from me.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Emi told me how you went for the crown and worked with her to try to save me. It was inspired.”
“It didn’t work,” he said.
“You don’t always have to be the one to save me,” she said softly.
“It’s my job,” he said. “If I can’t protect you, what am I good for?”
“Plenty,” Kai said. “I don’t need another bodyguard. I need someone who will make me laugh when I’m in one of my moods.”
“I suppose I have some practice at that…There have been enough moods,” he said.
“And encourage me go for morning runs about the citadel when I’d rather loaf under the covers.”
“Your endurance is getting much better. Though I’m not categorically opposed to loafing.”
“And I need someone to explain the finer points of Kitan military strategy to me.”
“Master Vita could do that.”
“But Master Vita doesn’t make my heart race when he explains the famous Phoenix Flanking Maneuver,” Kai said, running her thumb across Hiro’s rough palm.
“I would hope not,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t stand a chance with that type of competition.”
“I’m serious. I need someone who knew me before all of this madness. A friend. And…” Her tongue always tied itself in knots when the subject tilted towards the physical. “And a lover?” The statement came out like a question.