The Wolf of Oren-yaro (Annals of the Bitch Queen Book 1)

by K. S. Villoso

  “He told us to watch you,” the guard growled.

  “And he told me to get myself ready for tonight. We seem to have a problem. Do you see our problem? Tell me you see our problem.” I rolled my eyes.

  “We could go with her…” the other guard started.

  “Yes, accompany the boss’ whore to the bathhouse so she can complain we saw her backside one too many times. You think I have a death wish?” The smaller man tightened his face. “Go back inside. I’ll head out and speak with Lo Bahn about this. Do me a favour and keep silent until I get back. If the boss hears you’ve caused a scene, he won’t be happy.”

  “Don’t take too long,” I hissed.

  He spat to the side of the landing before starting down the steps.

  I glanced at the bigger man as his friend disappeared. “In the meantime, I need your help,” I said in my best, husky voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name. What was it again?”

  “Ning,” he said.

  I gestured to him, drawing back into the apartment. He cleared his throat. “I don’t think…”

  “I was injured two days ago. I need help with the dressing,” I said, limping towards a small chair. “Please, close the door.”

  Ning hesitated, but eventually, I heard the door click shut. He stomped inside, scratching his head. I had already unwrapped my leg. The flesh around it still hurt, but I noted that the stitches were starting to shrivel. I caught him looking at the gash.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Look for bandages,” I said.

  “I don’t know if he keeps any around here.”

  “We won’t know until you look.”

  He scratched his head before sauntering over to the kitchen, his back to me. I glanced at the nearest vase. All my instincts were telling me to grab the thing and smash it over his head. It was perfect, if he passed out before he knew what was happening. The other guard wasn’t likely to return any time soon. I could make my escape.

  But I also considered what would happen if he didn’t pass out. What if I missed? What if he had a hard head? I couldn’t fight, not with my leg the way it was. He’d warn Lo Bahn, who would probably rape me for my insolence and then triple the guards. It would be a prison worse than the whorehouse.

  “Would a dish cloth do?” Ning asked, tugging one of the cupboards open.

  “I need bandages,” I murmured.

  I wondered if the other guard would return with Lo Bahn, or if Lo Bahn would actually let me visit the bathhouse. I could try to escape there—it had been my original plan, after all. I wasn’t sure anymore. I wanted nothing more than to just get out of there, and my only guard had dropped all his defenses. Rush in. Think later. My thoughts had taken on my father’s voice and he was all but yelling them at me.

  The vase, then the chair. And then, if he doesn’t pass out, I had to kill him. There must be knives in that kitchen, or a piece of rope I could strangle him with.

  I didn’t want to kill him. It was different in battle, when you’re just trying to survive. You don’t focus so much on the killing but on the trying to make them stop from spilling your guts on the ground. But killing in cold blood—I had only done it that one other time. Years later, the sensation of guilt had yet to pass. I felt little desire to repeat the process all over again. I swallowed.

  But you have to kill him.

  I placed my hand on the rim of the vase.

  Someone started knocking.

  I swore, although I was also relieved deep down inside. Ning rushed to the door to open it. “You—Ning, I thought it was you! They told me you were here! The street near your house is on fire!”

  “Can’t be,” Ning said.

  “Look out the window if you don’t believe me.”

  Ning raced back inside, followed by a man—Khine. He didn’t even look at me. They pulled the curtains apart. I saw a tendril of black smoke rising in the distance.

  “Spirits!” Ning breathed. “Lamang, you—stay here, guard the woman.”

  “I came here to warn you, not babysit for you,” Khine said.

  “I’ll pay you!”

  Khine scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Very well, but…”

  Ning was out before he could even finish talking. He smiled, a wistful look on his face. Only then did he turn to me.

  “You didn’t really set his house on fire, did you?” I asked.

  “Heavens, no. The man has children. I’m not a heartless bastard.”

  “Then what…?”

  “A cart, filched from an unsuspecting vendor and set ablaze in an alley. Should kill some rats, at least.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m surprised it was just him. I was expecting two guards.”

  “I got rid of one. I was just about to get started on the other.” I paused, letting the situation sink in. “Why would you want to help me escape?”

  “Escape? Is that what you’re doing?” He walked up to me. “I wanted to talk to you, that’s all. Didn’t think Lo Bahn would let me if I asked him nicely.”

  “He does seem to hate you.”

  “He’s a sore loser.” Khine’s eyes twinkled.

  I laughed. “Never mind. So you did all of that just to talk to me? Were you about to lecture me on the folly of my ways?”

  “I wanted to see how you were doing,” he murmured. He was looking at my wound.

  “Well enough,” I said, pulling my leg to the floor and covering it with the hem of my dress. I swallowed. “Not as well as I’d hoped.” I stopped, trying to read his expression, wondering if I could trust him. He had been so kind so far, but then, so was Ziori at first.

  “If you want to escape,” he said, as if he was reading my thoughts, “then you better start doing it now, don’t you think? Now that both of them are gone?”

  “You’re here,” I pointed out sweetly. The vase was still beside me. Khine was smaller than Zing—I felt a lot more confident that I stood a chance against him if push came to shove. And I’ve been told I was pretty good at shoving people.

  “I’m not going to stop you. I can even help you if you want.”

  “Now you’re being smug. I don’t need your help. I was doing just fine before you arrived.”

  “I did notice that. The vase?” He pointed. I pulled my hand away, but it was too late. He shook his head, chuckling. “Not on Ning. Flowerpots, bottles, one time a house beam—I’ve seen him take them all.”

  “What about you?”

  “Ah, my heart. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you wouldn’t. Come.” Khine strode up to me and held out his hand.

  I looked at it.

  “You don’t have to trust me now,” he said. “Just know that we only have another few minutes before Ning or somebody finds that cart, and then…”

  “Oh, damn you,” I said. I reached out. His face broke into a grin before he led me through the door and onto the street.

  Chapter Nine

  The Con artist and The Queen,

  Reprised

  Khine draped a shawl over my head as we walked. “I take it your meeting with your husband didn’t go well?” he asked.

  “Not well at all,” I said in a low voice.

  He clicked his tongue. “That’s too bad. And then he threw you out, and Lo Bahn found you?”

  “Ziori did.”

  He turned to me, his eyes wide. “That hag. That explains everything.”

  “It does?”

  His face grew dark. “She and that despicable Jhao…they’ve been pulling this trick for as long as I can remember. Some poor girl from the rural provinces might find herself out in these parts of Anzhao—I think she’s even paid people from the city watch to make sure they end up here…and then she and the good doctor will help her out, fix her up, put a nice, warm meal in their bellies. Only it gets expensive, you see? And she gives her no choice but to pay back her debt one way or another.”

  “That is exactly what
happened.”

  He gave a grim smile. “And there’s nothing they can do about it, especially since Ziori preys on the sort of women who come here with nothing and have no one to turn to in the first place. And there’s no rules against it, as far as the watch is concerned.”

  “The paid watch?”

  “See, it’s nice when people pay attention.” He patted my arm before leading me down a bend. I didn’t know the streets anymore and couldn’t even see the canal. After all that had happened to me, the unfamiliar surroundings seemed even more threatening than ever before. I wasn’t pleased that I was following this man blindly, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  I stopped beside a small tree, one that was dotted with lumps of green fruit along its trunk. I took a deep breath. “Let’s get to the point, Khine…Lamang, was it?”

  Khine turned to me in confusion. “That is my name, yes.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I thought I was just trying to help you.”

  “You were the one who told me not to expect help out on these streets without giving anything in return. Are you meaning to sell me back to Lo Bahn? To a higher bidder? Speak your price, Lamang, because I can make it worth your while. Anything you think they can give you, I can double. Triple.” I tapped my foot.

  He stood there, his hands at his sides. “Tali,” he said.

  I had forgotten I had given him my name. I swallowed, trying hard not to show how much hearing it—after days of being called by another name or foreign whore—affected me. “Tali,” he repeated, holding his hands out. “Believe it or not—and this is the first time I’ve ever had to tell a woman this—I’m not going to sell you.”

  I cracked a smile. “I’m not concerned about what you want to do. I’m just letting you know that you have options, should you decide…”

  “All right,” Khine said. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “That’s—”

  “I know you could use money. You needed it when we tricked that shopkeeper. Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart all of a sudden.”

  “We tricked him,” he said. “Money was not forced out of his hand against his will. What Ziori did to you…that’s different.” His voice had dropped to a low rumble.

  “Different how?”

  “Do I really need to explain?”

  “I see. The self-confessed con artist has morals.”

  His expression changed. “Yes, he does. The same morals which are helping you escape from your captor’s clutches as we speak.” The frustration was plain on his face. “My house isn’t far away. We can argue here, wait until someone spots us and alert Lo Bahn’s men, or you can go now, maybe find your way back to your husband. Or we can debate about this over a cup of hot milk tea.”

  “Hot tea sounds nice,” I mumbled. I turned to follow him.

  Khine didn’t say anything in reply. Nor did he speak at all as we went down one dirty street to the next, his face contorted as if he was in deep thought. It was strange to be in the company of someone who could go from being so talkative from one moment to downright silent the next. After navigating a length of alley with an oversized gutter running through the middle, we eventually reached a narrow street with houses crammed together like books in a library. A person could reach out from their front door and touch the neighbour’s window across.

  Khine ushered me up some slippery stone steps, which led to a small door. He fiddled around with a key, unlocked the handle, and pushed. “Welcome to my castle,” he finally said, his cheerful expression returning.

  I stepped inside. There was a narrow staircase leading straight up from the door. Two bodies side-by-side wouldn’t be able to fit through it. He kicked off his boots and climbed up. I started to follow him, but right before I could make that first step, he cleared his throat. I looked at him. He looked at my feet.

  Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. I hoped it was too dark for him to see. I mumbled an apology and slid out of my shoes. I placed them against the wall as an afterthought. It’s not that I was raised without manners—I always took my shoes off in temples or before entering bedchambers—but growing up in Oka Shto, you couldn’t really go barefoot through the main halls. Too many came and went for the servants to keep the floors pristine. They tried, mind you, particularly when my father was still alive, but…

  I realized that Khine was still staring at me. I went up, one hand on the rails for support. Walking on the flat street had been tolerable, but going up a slope still bothered my muscles. My legs were beginning to shake. I dealt with the pain as best as I could. At the top step, he handed me a cushion.

  I took a seat at the first empty spot, near a shuttered window, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Let me look at your wound,” he said.

  My first instinct was to refuse. But something in his expression told me he was going to insist if I did, so I sighed and pulled up my dress, revealing my leg. The wound was bleeding a little. I had walked so much today that I wasn’t surprised.

  Khine came over, and after a moment’s hesitation, he touched the puckered flesh with his fingers. “So you pretend to be a doctor, too?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “Not exactly.” But he didn’t stop to explain what he meant by that. He got up, walking to the end of the room. “Doctor Jhao does a good enough job, but it’s not the best and it’s certainly not what he pretends it’s worth. I don’t know if he’s involved in Ziori’s dealings, but he must be. He certainly benefits from it.”

  Khine returned to me with a box from the shelf. I craned my neck to take a look. There were various metal implements, bandages, and a jar of dark paste. He cranked the jar open first and slathered the paste—which smelled like cow vomit stewed in spirits—on my wound. It tingled, and I found myself pulling away in protest.

  “Do you want the damn thing to get infected and fall off?” he asked.

  “Not particularly. I’m fond of that leg.” I let him put more salve on, and looked around the room as he bandaged it. It was small and cramped, with an open doorway that led to what I presumed was the kitchen. There was a ladder on the far corner, leading to a loft. The wall on the other side had a shelf lined with books.

  The books surprised me. In Ziri-nar-Orxiaro, did thieves and con artists find time to read? I would have thought otherwise. I turned back to Khine, watching him finish wrapping my leg with practiced ease. “Now,” he said, looking at his handiwork with a look of satisfaction. “I promised you milk tea.”

  “With sugar,” I said.

  He grinned. “I can see why your husband got rid of you.” But he strode over to the kitchen anyway, stopping for a moment by the doorway to get a ladle of water from a barrel. He disappeared behind the wall. I heard the sound of firewood being stacked, smelled smoke, and without realizing it, fell asleep.

  This time, I had no dreams, a result of that sleepless night I spent beside the snoring Lo Bahn. But after the worst of my exhaustion had passed, I forced myself awake. I reminded myself I was not yet safe, that I did not know if I could fully trust this Khine. I struggled to open my eyelids.

  I was lying on a mattress, in a dark room that was not the same one I had fallen asleep in. There was no door. I reached out in panic and was about to start screaming when I heard voices below me.

  “Why the hell would I lie to you, Ning?”

  “Because you already did, you sneaky son of a bitch.” I recognized Lo Bahn’s guard’s voice. “You said you’d keep an eye on her.”

  “You didn’t tell me she was a horror. A little warning would’ve been nice. The bitch threw me out of there. Said something about my smell or she didn’t like the way I look or something. Said she was going to throw a fit if I didn’t leave. She nearly smashed one of Lo Bahn’s vases. You know how much he loves those fish, right?”

  “No more than he loves his whores, I’m guessing. Why didn’t you come find me?”

  “Gods, Ning, I tr
ied to. Believe me. I ran down the street to get you as soon as I could. But then Tashi Oban came by and I had to hide—you know Cho owes him money, and he thinks he can squeeze it out of me but I keep telling him I don’t have enough—I can barely keep everyone fed as it is…”

  “What was that upstairs?”

  “What was what?”

  “I heard a sound coming from upstairs. You’re not keeping her, are you, Lamang? Lo Bahn is furious. He’ll have your balls for this.”

  “Why the fuck would you think I’m keeping her here? Do you think I have a death wish? Go and check if you want.”

  I heard footsteps, and instinctively drew the covers over me, even though I knew it wouldn’t help. I heard the floor begin to creak and the sound of a door opening. There was a pause, a sharp intake of breath, and then I heard the footsteps descending.

  “You better not be lying to me, Khine,” Zing said. “You know how bad this is going to be for you if you are. For both of us and our families.”

  “We’ve been friends for years, Ning. Why would I lie to you? Come back to check again if you want. I live here, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Where are your sisters? Cho?”

  “Cho went to visit a friend by the docks and won’t be home for a few days. Thao and Inzali are working until tomorrow. You can go ask them when they come back. Maybe they’ve seen something.”

  I heard the voices recede. After a few moments, there was silence.

  I stayed on the bed, my heart hammering. The silence continued for a while. I wondered if I should try to escape, but I couldn’t see a window for me to climb out of. I was also still very tired, and very hungry.

  I thought of Rayyel. I wondered if he was alive, and if he was looking for me. He ought to be. How does a queen stay lost for long? I tried hard not to imagine his body lying in the gutter outside The Silver Goose, cold and stiff under the rain, the way Arro’s must have been by that next day. But it was difficult not to, and the fear was made worse by the fact that there was nothing I could do about it.