by JC Kang
Kaiya’s eyes widened at the Scorpion before turning back to him, where they belonged. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Matters of peace are important, but please give us some time to consider details.”
“No,” the Scorpion said. Dhananad hoped it would be now. They could exchange private vows at the local Temple of Surya now, celebrate in each other’s arms tonight, and then hold a grand wedding in Maduras within a month.
Princess Kaiya shook her head, sending her voluminous tresses prancing. “My next several days are marked by meetings with officials from other Ayuri Kingdoms to discuss trade and docking rights. Let us meet in seven days, when the White Moon wanes to its half-phase.”
The Bovyan wore a stupid grin on his face, nodding. “One week, very reasonable.”
One week! It was too long not to be graced by her beauty. Still, waiting made good things even better. “Very well. I had planned to return to Madura before then, but I shall delay my departure.”
She dipped her chin. “Then let us host you at our embassy as a means of compensating you for the time you have lost.”
Dhananad clapped once. “Of course! I would be delighted to enjoy Cathayi hospitality.”
The Golden Scorpion—what was her name?— poked him again. “We will make arrangements to meet here, at the Bijuran embassy.”
The Scorpion’s voice tugged at him, pulling at the fog in his mind.
The princess shook her head. “We have troubled the Bijurans too much already. We are more than happy to have you as our guests.” Princess Kaiya locked her gaze on the Golden Scorpion. Their eyes waged a silent battle of will.
Dhananad wavered. His logical brain understood the Golden Scorpion’s intervention: it was better to talk at a neutral site instead of giving the Cathayi a territorial advantage. Yet his heart could not bring him to oppose the princess’ will. Finally, he waved off the Scorpion. “The princess is right. We have already asked much of the Bijurans. Let us meet at the Cathayi Embassy in seven days. I hope to hear some good news then.”
Sweet Kaiya stood. She motioned for her retinue, and they all followed her lead, standing and bowing. The imperial guard led them out of the room, with the infuriating handmaiden in the rear.
Standing at the window above, Prince Dhananad watched her entire entourage of two dozen guards form up. The haze shrouding his mind lifted. Why had he let the princess dictate terms to him?
He waved toward the musicians, who whispered among themselves as they packed up their instruments. “You, drummer. How did you know when to start playing?”
The drummer exchanged glances with his compatriots. “We were just discussing that, Your Eminence. We felt the princess’ movements guided our hands. We may never put on such a wondrous performance again.”
The Golden Scorpion and the Teleri official came up on either side of him. Both stared out the window.
“Your Eminence,” she said, her voice soothing. “Do you not find it curious that the Princess of Cathay travels with such minimal protection? Among her guards, I can count the truly skilled warriors on one hand.”
The Bovyan nodded. “Our spies say she arrived in Vyara in secret, with a very small retinue and no baggage. Usually, Cathayi royalty travel abroad with at least a hundred of their elite soldiers.”
Dhananad slapped the window sill. “Curse the clumsy handmaiden. May the many arms of Yama drag her down to Hell! Had my Lotus Blossom drunk the nectar, we would be making wedding arrangements now. It would only be a matter of years before we could take Cathay without drawing a sword.”
“It was no accident,” the Scorpion said. “The handmaiden intentionally knocked the glass out of the princess’ hand.”
He turned to the woman, trying to read her expression. “Could she have seen you slip the aphrodisiac into the princess’ drink?”
“Only one with natural talent and trained in the Bahaadur fighting arts could have perceived the speed of my motion.”
Dhananad looked to the Bovyan. “Bring out your Nightblades. Have the princess followed, find out what she is doing over this next week.”
“Your Eminence,” the man replied. “The Teleri embassy must attend to many issues in Vyara city. We cannot commit all of our resources just to chase this latest infatuation of yours. I will certainly speak to our ambassador about it, though.”
Dhananad spat. “Bah. To control Cathay would mean monopolizing the supply of guns and firepowder. Your enemies in the East and ours in the West would soon fall before us. My marriage to Princess Kaiya, combined with your empire’s machinations in their country, will put my future son on their throne.”
“Do not underestimate the princess, Your Highness,” the Scorpion said. “She could very well be Madura’s undoing if you do.”
Dhananad held her gaze. “That is why you will follow her moves, especially if the Teleri will not.”
The Ayuri music still echoed in Kaiya’s ears. Her arms and legs screamed to move to the beat of her guards’ marching boots. Her energy should’ve been drained after such an epic performance; but instead, she felt invigorated, as her vitality surged against her corporeal bonds.
The Loves of Prince Aralas was the longest solo dance she knew. The entire suite, when performed by an ensemble of dancers, lasted nearly two hours; the abridged solo version took ten minutes and tested the limits of her endurance.
Yet when the music had started, Master Sabal’s lessons on the barge came to her. She lost all volition as the melody guided her body’s movements and tangibly held her up in positions she had never achieved before. Each enunciation of a musical note pulled or pushed her, while her classical training allowed her to effortlessly articulate perfect postures.
When at last she had eased to a stop, having decided to leave out the tragic ending in favor of one of bliss and fascination, over two hours had passed— impossibly longer than the stamina of the stoutest warrior. Never in her life had she performed such a perfect dance.
She thought back to her audience, all enthralled by her, lulled into complacent reverie. Even the Bovyan, who as a race cared little for mundane pastimes, watched with rapt interest. She’d formed a connection, not with her voice as Lord Xu had taught her, but through motion. The beating of their hearts, nudged into harmony with hers. Just as Ayana had done with her elven magic to the Teleri spy.
Only the Golden Scorpion had seemed bored, and, like Master Sabal’s naga when he fought, her mask had emitted a soft blue light during the dance. The woman had resisted the connection, shrugged off the enchantment. Perhaps Paladins could do the same. If Madura indeed had two thousand of the Golden Scorpions… What an ingenious move it had been to recruit them.
Kaiya gasped. She’d forgotten to ask to see an image of Grand Vizier Rumiya, the man who had formed up the Golden Scorpion Corps.
CHAPTER 35:
A Prince by Any Other Name
After several days in Vyara City, Kaiya had grown accustomed to the bustling cacophony of its main boulevards. It made the district around the Ankiran maharaja’s villa seem quiet and eerie. It was as if they had crossed a bridge into a different city.
Worn boots clopped on the uneven pavement as several dozen soldiers in threadbare uniforms marched around the weathered white walls. The villa’s crumbling minarets cast shadows across a fetid canal, making the entire compound appear dark and cold. She tightened the sari around her shoulders, as if it would provide warmth.
In a city of spotless buildings, manicured boulevards, and sparkling canals, it seemed like they were visiting a castle that had been held under siege for the year. Poor Prince Hardeep. He’d come to this ramshackle building to recover from his wounds a year before. From his letters, he was still staying in Vyara City.
Maybe she would see him today. The lotus jewel felt warm at her waist. Her heart quickened and her palms sweated. Had her feelings for him been there all this time, tucked away by Zheng Ming’s attention?
A steward in a faded blue kurta guided them into a rece
iving room which spoke of desperate times. Light bauble lamps were three-quarters shuttered, perhaps to avoid illuminating the Ankiran royal family’s plight.
The steward pointed her toward a rickety-looking wood chair. Kaiya’s bare feet slid across the thinning rug. She gingerly settled on the edge, worried it might collapse beneath even her light weight.
Jie, despite her even slimmer build, eyed her own seat dubiously. Though invited to sit, Chen Xin and Ma Jun remained standing, either from protocol or their own doubts about the chairs.
A girl in Ankiran blue livery, if it could be called that, brought a large bowl with cracked enamel, filled with roti flatbread. She placed it on a low table with splotchy varnish.
Several guards watched her from the periphery of the room.
“Dian-xia,” the half-elf whispered in the Hua tongue. “How much clout do you think the Ankiran maharaja has?”
Kaiya glared at her Insolent Retainer, cowing her into silence. Let her believe it was all about alliance building. Soon, very soon…
The valet called out from the entrance, “His Majesty, Maharaja Bahir II.”
Kaiya turned back to the doors. An old man strode into the room, shoulders square and head held high. Just behind him walked a youth whose face looked not much older than Jie, but whose broad shoulders and barrel chest could have belonged to a fierce warrior. He entered the room cradling a middle-aged woman’s hand in the crook of his arm. A dozen guards flanked them as they walked to the front of the room and sat.
“Greetings, Princess Kaiya of Cathay,” the maharaja said. Like the boy, he wore a royal blue kurta with a gold lotus emblazoned on the left breast.
Kaiya pressed her hands together and bowed her head. “Thank you for receiving me, Your Eminence.”
The maharaja motioned toward the woman. “This is Queen Shariya.”
The queen shifted the blue sari on her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “We are something of outcasts to Vyara City’s high society. To what do we owe this royal visit?”
Cold and blunt. Kaiya sucked her breath in. “I bear greetings from my father, the Emperor of Cathay.”
The queen’s tone went from unfriendly to downright hostile. “Does he wish to gloat at Ankira’s occupation? Your trade mission’s decision thirty-two years ago to sell guns to Madura doomed us.”
Guilt yanked at Kaiya’s heart. The ugly side of unfettered mercantilism enriched Hua at the expense of others. She would’ve never considered the implications if not for meeting with Prince Hardeep. She folded her hands in her lap and bowed low. “I… We—”
The queen thrust an obtuse finger at her. “And there you sit wearing fine silk and the latest fashions and rubbing our misfortune in our faces. I should have my guards hold you down and rip your dress from you and share you many times over, before cutting your pretty head off and sending it back to avaricious Cathay on a spear so that your Emperor will know how Ankira suffers because of his selfish decisions.” The queen panted to catch her breath. Tears ran down her weathered cheeks.
A chill raced up Kaiya’s spine. Embassy robes ruffled as the imperial guards tensed. Jie reached into the band of her langa. They were hopelessly outnumbered.
Fixing his attention on Kaiya, the boy raised an open hand. He spoke in a deep voice which matched his build but not his face. “Please calm down, Grandmother. You cannot blame the Princess of Cathay for something that happened before she was even born. Princess Kaiya, please forgive the queen. All of her sons were lost in defense of our homeland, her daughters married off to secure alliances which never materialized.”
Lost? All of her sons? Kaiya met his gaze. The lump in her throat strangled her words, and she had to clear it before continuing. “Does Prince Hardeep still live?”
The queen burst into sobs. The boy prince looked at her with sympathetic eyes.
Oh Heavens, no. Kaiya’s spine might have been made of jelly, the way her body wanted to fold in on itself. “I am sorry for your loss.” Her loss. She slipped off her chair to her knees and touched her fingers to the rug. Her retainers dropped to a knee as well. “I was very touched by my meeting with him two years ago.”
Queen Shariya wiped her eyes and cocked her head.
“That is impossible,” the boy said. His brow creased.
Impossible? A presumptuous kid she just met was judging her emotions! Kaiya straightened. “He came to our palace to request an alliance against Madura.”
The queen choked on tears. “Two years ago would have been too late, anyway.”
The boy whisked his hand to quiet his grandmother. He nodded at Kaiya to continue.
“We exchanged correspondence up until just a month ago,” Kaiya said.
Queen Shariya pursed her lips and snorted.
The boy shook his head. “That is just not possible.”
The gall of the little brat, questioning her emotions. Heat flared in Kaiya’s cheeks. She reached into the band of her langa and withdrew the lotus jewel. It pulsed with a warmth in her hands. “He gave me this lotus jewel.”
The queen and the boy gaped at it. The maharaja leaned forward, squinting. Perhaps now they would believe her.
At last, the boy spoke in a low monotone. “That is not a lotus jewel. I don’t know what it is, but it is not a lotus jewel.”
Kaiya stared at the trinket in her hand. For two years, she’d gazed at it, stroked it, held it to her heart many times, all holding on to the memory of her prince. “But what about Prince Hardeep? When did he die?”
The prince cocked his head. “My uncle Hardeep died in infancy. Before you or I were born.”
The world spun and Kaiya thrust a hand back against the chair for support. This could not be right. She’d seen the royal registries in the foreign ministry archive herself. No death date for Prince Hardeep had ever been entered. He’d been there, before her eyes.
Who had visited her?
And if Hardeep was dead, who had she been exchanging letters with?
Jie had seen Prince Hardeep from a distance at Wailian Castle two years before, but was curious to see what he was really like. She knew Princess Kaiya had a thing for transparent men like Young Lord Zheng…but a ghost?
She laid a hand on the princess’ shoulder. Her trembling body radiated an unnatural heat as she staggered to her feet and slumped back into the chair. Which creaked, but by an act of the Heavens did not collapse into a tangle of firewood and princess.
Jie’s focus shifted from the maharaja to the queen and back. The woman crumpled onto herself, crying inconsolably. The old man’s face might as well have been frozen, like a Moquan brother under interrogation, revealing less than a Golden Scorpion’s mask.
The boy was the real king, setting up the old man as the primary target for Madura. Though no doubt, the child was no safer than the decoy. Which was why the royal treasury must have been strained to finance so many guards protect the sole heir to the Ankiran throne.
No point in revealing her suspicions. Jie turned to the old man. “Your Eminence, I am sorry to ask in light of the sad circumstances, but an impostor with full credentials visited Princess Kaiya back then, requesting assistance in your fight against Madura. Who from Ankira authorized the visit?”
The decoy remained impassive, but the boy stroked his beardless chin. “I do not recall any missions to Cathay. Two years ago, it would not have mattered anyway. It could have been anyone looking to make mischief.”
Princess Kaiya found her voice. “He had pale blue eyes, unlike any other Ayuri I have ever seen.”
The boy maharaja exchanged looks with the others and the soldiers murmured among themselves.
His grandmother set her hand so the pinkie and index finger stuck out, the mudra for warding evil. “Only one Ayuri in history has had blue eyes, though he disappeared thirty-two years ago. Madura’s Grand Vizier, Rumiya.”
Jie hesitantly looked back at the princess.
Her knuckles were white around the armrests. Tears glistened in her eyes. She mo
uthed painting, but only a gasp came out.
Jie bowed toward the old man. “Do you have a painting of Rumiya?”
The boy motioned toward a female servant and pointed toward the entrance. “Go to the library. Retrieve the Chronology of Madura.”
The girl disappeared and the room fell into a nervous hush, broken only by the princess’ and Queen Grandmother’s occasional sniffs. Jie used the awkward silence to ponder the bigger picture. If Prince Hardeep was really the evil wizard Rumiya, where had he been for thirty years before visiting the princess? And who had she been corresponding with? Oh, to be as good as Tian at drawing connections!
Tian. The answer dawned on her and she turned to draw the princess’ attention, only to find her looking back, mouthing the same name.
Peng. It fit what Tian had said: several years after the fact, he realized Lord Peng had set him up to take the blame for the horrible mistake that got him banished. Peng was a snake to be sure, and this was certainly the same sort of vicious prank that inevitably hurt others.
Unless Peng had more sinister reasons beyond pure maliciousness.
When the servant returned, the boy motioned for her to deliver the heavy bundle of scrolls into the princess’ hands.
Kaiya sat in her room at the Hua embassy, fingers trembling as she flipped through the sheaf of yellowing scrolls the Ankirans had loaned her. Her focus settled on an entry.
When the Hellstorm and Long Winter laid low the first great human empires, dynamic individuals forged new nations with strategic skill, diplomatic acumen, or the sheer force of will. In the region that would become the Kingdom of Madura, that individual was Madukant, who had been a captain in the Ayuri Empire’s armies.
A masterful military tactician, Madukant made up for his lack of charisma with a combination of brute force and cutthroat political maneuvering. He ensured his soldiers survived the Long Winter by plundering the land of all its value. He set himself up first as a regional warlord. After absorbing nominal friends and crushing enemies, he declared himself maharaja.