“Fuck you.”
“While that honestly sounds quite delightful, I don’t think you understand your position here, my queen,” Yuebek said. “Or your lack thereof, as it were. I was only trying to show you my courtesies. Any future husband ought to, in my opinion. But you don’t have a choice. Your father gave you to me—and the Oren-yaro know it. Haven’t you wondered why no one has come for you all this time?”
I tried to strike at him with my sword, but for a misshapen lump, he seemed to move pretty fast when he wanted to. I missed him by a hair’s breadth. He laughed and clapped his hands, and the ground began to shake. I saw the snakes wriggle out completely; as soon as they were free, Agos and Nor turned white. Their bodies crumbled, drifting into dust.
The snakes flopped once before they stood up and grew limbs.
“Blood magic is outlawed,” Yuebek said, echoing my words as I watched the snake-men take form. “For a reason. My father would rather put a lid on something he doesn’t understand. But I’ve spent my life studying it, living it.”
“Your father will never let you have your army if he finds out,” I gasped.
Yuebek snorted. “He may not let me have all of it, but I have enough. And you know about my reserves. Let me show you what they can do.” He drew his hands back. The snake-men began to walk towards me.
I readied my sword and went for the closest one. Its flesh was surprisingly soft. My blade cleaved through it like butter and it fell to the ground, twitching.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not impressed.”
The two split halves got up and slid back in place. Only a thin line remained where my sword had struck it.
“How about now?” Yuebek asked with his usual, child-like eagerness.
I didn’t have time to respond. The snake-men hissed and attacked me all at once.
Chapter Twelve
Folly of a Fifth Son
You would think I should’ve known better. Should’ve been more careful, should’ve anticipated what a man like Prince Yuebek was capable of. But I had thought he was dead. I had wanted him to be dead.
Before our desperate flight from Anzhao City, I had spent some time reading up as much as I could on Yuebek. It was difficult, given my limited knowledge of the Zirano script and the fact that I didn’t want my guards realizing how worried I was about the whole thing. It took a few weeks of harassing shady book dealers outside of Shang Azi and visiting public archives near the governor’s palace, but I was able to gather some knowledge of his past. Enough knowledge. Enough to worry me.
Yuebek grew up in the capital in Kyan Jang and was the only living son of Emperor Yunan’s Fourth Consort. He was the younger son until his ninth year, during which it was said he strangled his elder brother to death during a schoolyard fight before setting him on fire.
An inquest deemed it an accident. An unfortunate thing, but a thing boys sometimes did. It wasn’t as if Yuebek’s brother was a saint. The boy was cruel to him, a bully who would smear his face into the dust and call him names. There was also the possibility of sexual abuse. But the most important part of the whole incident, aside from Yuebek assuming the position of Fifth Son from there on out, was that Yuebek’s skill in the agan surfaced. He was sent to study with mages at a nondescript location before he turned ten.
His connection to the agan, it was said, came from his mother’s line. No such thing existed with the Emperor’s. A connection to the agan was deemed a useful skill when put in service of the empire, but it frightened them to see it within the nobility. It implied a potential to tip a power struggle their way, and it was commonly suggested (though not within polite company) that such children ought to be silently whisked away to be raised by mages without knowledge of their status.
The imperial court, of course, kept silent about the whole affair, although questions were raised. How did Yuebek make it to his ninth year without anyone noticing anything about the boy? The Fourth Consort’s servants were taken, grilled—some, some say, under torture. The Empress was livid; attempts were made on Yuebek’s life over the years. Somehow, he survived them all, and returned to Kyan Jang as a young man, fully intending to take his place in court.
There was a massive outcry. The Empress and her sons wanted him gone, but the Esteemed Emperor refused to banish him without reason. And Yuebek was—for all his eccentricities—a devoted enough son. That was when they arranged for his marriage to Zhu Ong. It wasn’t exactly banishment, but it wasn’t an ideal marriage even to someone who didn’t know much about Zarojo bloodlines. The Ong family was at least five steps away from the imperial dynasty. Bottom-feeders, as far as everyone was concerned.
That the Fourth Consort even agreed was the greatest mystery. Sure, there was the gift army, Yuebek’s Boon, but in such a vast empire, they were drops of water in a rolling sea. Yet she made no comment and even praised the Esteemed Emperor’s foresight for such a marriage—at least according to the texts I read. She had been more vocal in the past when her elder son was alive.
Sometime after Yuebek had first gone to live with the mages, the War of the Wolves happened.
~~~
Did I believe my father had sold me out to this creature?
I could remember his ghost laughing over my marriage to Rayyel back in Yuebek’s dungeons. “You fell in love with the brat,” he had accused me.
Wasn’t I supposed to, Father?
I parried a snake-man’s attack, my blade nicking an arm. With every passing moment, their limbs seemed more solid, like actual muscle and bone. Their attacks gained in speed. I realized that I was still alive because they weren’t trying to kill me—Yuebek was just trying to wear me down. He was laughing like a little boy who had just discovered a new plaything.
I missed a step. A fist smashed into my cheek. I dropped to the ground and tried to get up. Rai was charging Yuebek. Namra was—doing something, creating a spell I think. I didn’t think I had the time to ask her what. Khine was nowhere in sight.
I threw an arm up and stabbed the nearest snake-man in the throat. It contorted immediately as black blood gushed out of the wound. I rolled to the side to avoid most of it and threw the limp body at the next one. It didn’t recover, and I saw it was because Yuebek was now preoccupied with defending himself against Rai.
I tore into the second snake-man with renewed vigour. With Yuebek distracted, its movements had become imprecise. I slid my sword into its belly, kicked it away, and turned, breathing through my mouth.
Shadows emerged from every corner of the hall. Hooded figures. Yuebek’s mages.
A strangled cry. I craned my head in time to see Rai’s sword explode into pieces just as Yuebek stabbed him in the gut with a dagger. I realized the cry came from my own throat.
In that same instant, the chandelier near the antechamber crashed right on top of at least two mages. Someone hurled an oil lantern into it from the shadows. There was an explosion, and the curtains and tapestries caught on fire.
“To your left, Tali!” Khine called out. There was another lantern in his hand. He walked up to Yuebek and threw the lantern straight at him. As Yuebek tried to dance away from the flames, he reached down to pull Rai up. “I’ve got him!” he cried out. “Clear the way!”
Smoke was engulfing the room. I tore into a mage who got in the way, my blade sinking into a thigh and then a shoulder. The man stood no chance. I pushed him to the side just as another came up to me. I dodged, slashed again.
Somehow, I made it to the far side of the courtyard. I saw two figures tied to posts in the middle of the square, their bodies bleeding from a dozen lashes. They looked up as I arrived.
“My queen,” Agos gasped.
I hesitated. I had just seen him explode minutes ago. But my body moved before my mind could make a decision. I struck his bonds with my sword. He fell forward into my arms. He was alive—warm, breathing, and reeking of sweat. He scrambled to gain his footing. “I saw him make dummies of us,” he managed to whisper. “That man—he should be b
uried alive. I hope you weren’t fooled. What’s happening back there?”
My relief at learning they weren’t dead after all was overtaken by the urgency of the situation. “No time to explain,” I said. I turned to set Nor free. She looked disoriented as I helped her to her feet.
“Beloved Queen—it is as you said,” Nor whispered. “That man believes he is doing this according to your father’s will. He says there are others back home who supports this claim. Prince Thanh is in danger—we have to return to Oren-yaro at once.”
I had never wanted to agree with her as fervently as I did that moment. But my next thoughts were drowned out by the sight of Khine dragging Rai up the steps to the square. Blood dripped on the ground where they walked. Yuebek appeared behind them, eyes glowing blue. I pushed Nor towards Agos and sprinted back to the archway, raising my sword as I ran. I could feel my heart pounding; I didn’t think I was going to reach them in time.
Flames exploded. Yuebek rolled to avoid them, and I saw Namra begin to cast another spell. I readied myself to strike at Yuebek. He threw out his hand. This time, I was prepared for it—I sidestepped just as his spell reached me. It slammed into a sapling several paces away.
Khine was on him before he could recover. I took advantage of the opening. My blade caught Yuebek’s arm, just above his elbow. Yuebek grimaced, like a man who had just been bit by a fly. My attack didn’t seem to hurt him.
“Do me a favour,” I hissed. “Just die already.”
Yuebek grinned. “Not before our wedding night. Don’t you want to find out what you’re missing?”
He turned to meet Khine’s attacks. I launched myself at his exposed back with renewed vigour. Right before I reached him, I saw the wound close itself on his arm.
I struck him on the thigh, just as his spell sent Khine toppling back.
Yuebek glanced back at me. “Maybe you need more convincing.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve already made up my mind,” I said.
A blue glow began to seep from the cracks in his body.
“My queen,” I heard Namra croak out. We were surrounded—mages who had survived the fire in the antechamber and priests clad in Shimesu’s robes, had caught up to us. One of them had a blade at Namra’s throat. I recognized Belfang.
“You’re pathetic,” I said, directing my gaze at him.
“You’re fighting the wrong battle,” Belfang replied. There was an edge on his voice.
I rounded on him. “The villagers trusted you for a reason. You grew up in Phurywa—this is your home, the villagers are your family. Gods—do you understand what he’s done to them? To your elders?”
“He—” Belfang stammered. I saw him loosen his grasp and push Namra away.
In the distance, I heard the gates creak open.
Yuebek walked past Khine. “What do you know about me, Queen Talyien?” he asked.
“I know I’d never marry you if you were the last man on earth,” I replied. “I know I’d rather stab my eyeballs with bamboo skewers. Dull bamboo skewers dipped in vinegar—”
“You do have a gift for imagery.”
“—while mountain lions gnaw my feet to the bones.”
Yuebek smiled. “You can write poetry when we’re back in Oren-yaro. You won’t be doing much else when I’m Dragonlord. Your father didn’t promise you to me because I was Fifth Son. Truth be told, he thought the position was too low for someone who would be the first queen of Jin-Sayeng, which already tells you what he thought of the paltry offering the Ikessars gave him.”
He glanced at Rai’s unmoving form. I was too far away to see if he still breathed. “No, Beloved Queen—I was given the task because your father knew that bringing your nation back together required a lot more than just warlords nodding together in agreement. You needed a leader who knew how to take care of the little things, who not only had noble blood but the power to make things happen—quite unlike that husband of yours. Someone with a wit as sharp as his and who would prove a better bearer of his legacy than his inept, wayward daughter.” He turned to me.
The hair on my arms rose. I could feel cold sweat dotting my forehead, trickling down my cheek. The way Yuebek spoke—I caught a note of my father’s own words, the way he liked to pattern his speech. He must’ve been studying my father’s writing for a long time. Knowing what he had done so far, I wasn’t surprised. But could a person learn so much just by reading? And how would he even get his hands on my father’s writing? The only copies of his journals that I knew of were in my father’s locked study in Oka Shto.
I remembered the ghosts I had seen in his dungeon, my father and my eldest brother both. For the past few months, I had convinced myself that they were illusions conjured by a fevered mind. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I could feel myself sinking, dread and outrage combining with the ache of the thought that perhaps he was right. Perhaps my father did choose him after all. I wasn’t worthy. I never had been.
“You know you’re not capable,” Yuebek said, echoing my thoughts. “If you were, you wouldn’t even be here right now. You would’ve anticipated the moves his enemies made, made your own traps before they knew what was happening.” He pointed at Rai. “You would’ve had his head on a spike before those hands ever touched you. No—but I think your father expected that. He wasn’t going to leave his legacy in the care of a young, foolish girl. He had fought too hard for it.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered saying the exact same thing.
~~~
The truth straddles the line between lies and expectations. Arro told me that once. Arro had told me a lot of things over the years that I, willful child that I was, had tried to shove away as quickly as they left his lips. What I had once thought were the inane ramblings of an old man suddenly seemed more precious; the world made more sense back when Arro was around. Did he know about all of this? Was he trying to shape me into a better ruler, knowing what would happen if he didn’t?
“You know exactly what I mean,” Yuebek continued. “I can see it in your eyes, Beloved Queen. You knew enough about your father, at least. Who else did he trust in court? Why would he leave Jin-Sayeng in the hands of an Ikessar brat and his mother? He told me himself.”
“He told you,” I drawled.
“What can I say, my queen? The man had known of me since my return to the court of Kyan Jang—he had been observing my progress, watching the speed with which I rose in responsibilities in my father’s court. He saw what perhaps even my own father didn’t—a potential which would be wasted on whatever paltry position my brothers refused. It was then that Warlord Yeshin started corresponding with my mother. Later, I was forced to marry Zhu Ong while you were handed over to that bastard. What was that he called it? An unfortunate predicament. I read you his own thoughts on that matter, didn’t I?” He laughed. “He visited me in Zorheng before his death. He had heard good things about what I was doing there and wanted to see for himself. He was not disappointed.”
“My father never left Oren-yaro!”
“Are you sure?”
“He—” There was a summer I spent in Lord General Ozo’s keep near the rice fields two years before Yeshin died, but I had been led to understand that my father was in Oka Shto that whole time.
“Proof, you say. I have more than plenty. But for now…” Yuebek lifted his hands. I saw dark shapes moving by the gates, like a forest drawing closer by the minute. My eyes focused. I recognized the effigies from Rayyel’s stories, the shaped forms pumped full of the villagers’ blood and whatever foul substance the mages used to keep them moving. I could see it, too, running along veins that popped along the side of their necks and down their bare shoulders.
“There are people here who mean something to you, terribly misguided as the sentiment may be,” Yuebek continued. “Perhaps their imminent death may make you a bit more cooperative.”
I felt the anger take life inside of me. Yuebek had missed something vital: studying my father, even a chance meeting with him if th
at were true, didn’t make you his child. Perhaps I couldn’t live up to my father’s expectations, but that didn’t change that he raised me never to accept defeat.
I went for the closest mage. He tried to shatter my sword, but I dropped it and stabbed him in the belly once with my spare dagger. I dragged him backwards as he struggled in my grasp. “Do you want another?” I whispered into his ear.
I felt him shake his head fervently.
“Cast me a spell.”
“This is futile, my darling,” Yuebek called out.
I grinned, turning the mage over to face the ones behind Nor. He flailed. Maybe he was trying to cast a spell, maybe he wasn’t; it wasn’t important. The mages turned to prepare themselves, and while they were distracted, Agos struck them in the back of the head with his fist.
That broke the standstill. Agos and Nor grabbed the mages’ swords just as the effigies reached us. They began to fight their way through the figures, whose bodies were sufficiently hardened, unlike the snake-men’s.
I stabbed my mage a second time and kicked him away for good measure before rushing in to join the battle. The effigies weren’t fighting back at all, but the sheer number was making it impossible to cut through them. I saw Yuebek making a hasty retreat to the end of the courtyard; behind him, the temple’s roof was engulfed in flames. He called out to me. “You have to admit, at least, how wonderful this all is,” he jeered. “Imagine these in Oren-yaro, with my twenty thousand soldiers. Imagine!”
Yes, I could. I could imagine his madness back home and Jin-Sayeng burning to the ground like the temple. I could imagine the death and destruction that would come from someone who not only wanted to revive Yeshin’s legacy, but believed himself worthy of it. I kicked a figure away and fought to reach Rai’s side while blood—not my own—ran down my chin. He was pale, but not blue. I touched his neck and felt a pulse.
I regretted any past romantic notions of dying together in a battlefield. I saw his eyes flicker, but they didn’t open. “Wake up, Rai,” I grumbled.
The Ikessar Falcon Page 17