“The father who made you into this?” he gasped.
“But you’ve made it clear enough,” I continued with a snarl. “If I don’t do a damn thing, you people will burn the whole place to the ground, crawl over whatever’s left, and bicker over the ashes. I don’t want to play your fucking games, but you said it yourself—somehow, despite everything you and your mad fucking, undead prince has tried to do, I’m not broken yet. You know what, Qun? I’ve decided—”
He tried to crawl away from me and I struck him with the rock. He fell to the ground.
“I’ve decided,” I repeated, sitting on him, my knee on his belly, “that once I find my son, I’m going to make all of you dogs pay, right down to your master.”
“You, and what army?” Qun hissed. “You’ve got nothing. The Oren-yaro bow to Prince Yuebek now, and so do your other warlords.”
“Right. The ones with agan-afflicted children that you’ve blackmailed.” I gave him a grin. “Do you see how easily I can turn this against you, Qun?”
“You have nothing.”
“What was that other thing you said? Every blow against me only strengthens me. Don’t ask me how. I wouldn’t know. I’d certainly rather it didn’t, because I’m tired of dealing with all this scheming and treachery. But you’re the one who’s going to die out here, Ino Qun, not I.”
The gravity of the threat engulfed his expression. Somehow, he managed to wrench the dagger loose from his belt, and struck me in the leg. A small cut. The man was weak. Stripped to his core, he was the one who had nothing. Stripped to mine, I was still too much Yeshin’s daughter.
I struck him once more to repay the favour, again and again until his eyes glazed over and I couldn’t tell anymore which was my blood and which was his. I didn’t like killing, but after the things he had told me he would do to my boy, watching his life drain in front of me was the most satisfying thing in the world. After he stopped moving, I kicked him down the next slope and watched his robes flutter with the wind as he tumbled down the mountain.
“Talyien!”
Rai’s voice. I wrapped my loose sleeve around the open wound on my arm and limped towards the base of the overhang. The blood drained from his face as he looked at me. “What happened?” he gasped.
“Took care of Qun like I promised,” I whispered.
He reached down to help me up. My arm was burning, but my body was still on fire and the shaking had yet to begin. “He didn’t have Thanh,” I croaked out, once I was back on the path. “The idiot lied.”
“I told you.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t risk it.”
There was something in my voice that stopped him from arguing further. We walked back to the palace. I was expecting to come face-to-face with the rest of the guards, but I noticed that the dagger on the door was still there. I retrieved it, awkwardly managing to slip it back into the sheath.
When we returned to the great hall, I saw the rest of the guards dead around the throne.
I looked up as figures emerged from the open arches of the main hall. Figures dressed in black, with blades that glinted in the flickering lamplight. They were holding Thanh.
My mind stopped working. Not one moment longer, and then I was limping straight for him, my arms reaching out to pull him to my bloodied chest. “Oh Thanh, oh, my love,” I murmured into his wavy hair. He smelled of sweat and tears, and he was a lot taller, less round, than when I saw him last…but he was here, he was alive, and this wasn’t like the many dreams that had kept me sleepless in the long months. I kissed his cheeks and his hair, and promised myself that even if the world split in half I would never leave him again.
An instance, stretched out. We think we own these moments—that we can will time to stand still while we drink in these loves a little longer, convinced that the forces of the world will bend their knee to the strength of our emotions. The truth is it is but a ripple in an ocean, a sprinkle of sunlight in a dark world—not ours to contain, not ours to hold as we please. I realized Thanh wasn’t speaking. I looked down and noticed that his eyes were very red. But his face was pale, and there was a bruise on his chin.
“Mother,” he finally said. The fear was plain on his voice.
I felt someone pull me up, away from him. I turned to argue, but instead found myself staring at the edge of a drawn blade. “Cooperate,” the man said. “And no one gets hurt.” He drew Thanh to the side.
“You bastard,” I said. “Do you know who I am?”
“We know,” the man continued, “else we wouldn’t be here. We also know what you aren’t. Come with us and we can help you fix this. You can have everything you want, and more.”
“Listen to him, Tali,” Agos said, appearing from behind them.
I stared at him. “What is this, Agos?”
In the distance, the horn blared again. Agos looked up and grimaced. “We don’t have much time. That’s the Ikessars at the gates.”
“And these?” I turned to the figures.
“The Shadows. Dai’s men,” Agos said. “They’re here to help us, Tali.”
“You double-crossed us,” Rai spoke up. “You…”
“I didn’t,” Agos snapped. “Not the way you mean. Do you think I could’ve brought her home without their help in the first place? The ship that brought me there—”
“You’ve been working with them this whole time?” I snapped. “You told me you met them in Anzhao!”
“Because how do you think you would’ve reacted if you knew?” he growled. “Think! Who else wanted to save you? Not the Oren-yaro, not your friends—the whole damn nation turned a blind eye to you when you needed them the most. Dai had the most reasonable offer.”
“The man tried to have us killed!” I exclaimed.
“Of course he did,” Agos growled. “After what you did at the Sougen, he thought you were going to jeopardize his plans. I had to convince him in Osahindo that I could still turn it around. Fuck, Tali, if you weren’t so gods-damned stubborn…”
“They attacked us in Osahindo.”
“They attacked him,” Agos said, turning to Rai. “You were always safe. I made sure of that.”
“You understand that this is exactly what Yuebek tried to do?” I asked. “They followed us through the tunnels, didn’t they? Oh gods—Agos…they were right behind us this whole time. You let them get to Thanh first. Agos…out of all the people in the world, I thought I could trust you. From the very beginning, I thought…”
“It’s not like that, Tali.” He reached out to grab my shoulders, turning me so I could face him, so I could look into his eyes. I had a brief flash of how he liked to look at my face when we made love, followed by pain, an echo of Qun’s accusations.
“You made a decision without me,” I whispered.
“I haven’t forgotten who you are,” Agos said, his eyes blazing. “And if you must have my head for it, then so be it. But we don’t have time for this. The Ikessars sent soldiers. They—”
A banging sound came from outside the locked doors. I froze.
The closest Shadow turned to me. “Those must be the others. We’ve killed all the guards in and out the castle. If we leave now, we can get you away.”
“One noose for another,” I hissed.
“I won’t let Dai hurt you,” Agos said. He turned to Rai, lifting his sword. “Unfortunately, he wanted one other thing. He needed one death.”
Rai looked down at his own sword, as if realizing what Agos meant. He gave a small, resigned sigh. “I suppose it’s fitting.”
Agos nodded. “I’m an honourable man. I’ll give you time to get ready.”
“Stop this at once,” I snapped, stepping in front of Rai. “I’m not going anywhere without him.”
“Kaggawa drove a hard bargain, and he didn’t want Rai alive at all.”
“Did you even try?”
“Why the fuck should I? You knew it would someday come to this, Tali.”
“He’s right,” Rai said. “This should’
ve happened a long time ago.”
“I’m not a piece of gristle to fight over like dogs,” I hissed. “But I’m not unreasonable. I’ll play along. We’ll go with you back to Dai, Agos. Leave Rayyel out of this. Agos—”
He drew me aside easily, a sudden reflection of his strength and how much he had let me get away with over the years. I caught myself, doubling back to try to reach him, but by then he was already bearing down on Rai. I screamed.
~~~
The gods are cruel. I know that now.
Should I have guessed that Agos—loyal, faithful Agos—would become deaf to my own cries to pursue what he thought was right?
I had seen what Agos could do to a man with his sword in seconds. I had relied on it for years. I never thought I would see that same sword bearing down on my husband. Agos missed that first time, the blade sinking into the wooden floor. He tore out splinters as he lifted it again.
Rai met the attack. Agos struck Rai’s sword with such force that it flew out of his hands. I spotted a spray of blood streaming from his fingers.
“Pick it up,” Agos raged.
Rai crawled after the blade.
“Get it over with,” I heard one of the Shadows say behind his mask. “We don’t have time for this.”
“I won’t murder him. The man deserves an honourable death.”
But his mind was clouded over what honour truly meant. As soon as Rai’s hands clasped around the hilt, Agos was on him again, kicking him across the floor, striking him with one hand while he tried to position his sword for a clean strike. The only way Rai would’ve been able to beat him was if they fought in a debate room. “You fool!” I heard one man utter. “You’re wasting time!”
Rai managed to wrench himself loose and struck an underhanded blow. It was a weak strike, one that barely clipped the flesh, but I heard Agos laugh. “So, you’ve got some fight in you after all, little man. I was worried this would be too easy.”
“Do you really think that killing me will make her love you?”
Agos spat. “You’ll use that? You sicken me. She loved you, yes. I’ve known that from the start. And what did you do?” He slammed his fist into Rai’s belly. “You wasted it, you son of a bitch.”
“Wasted,” Rai said, spitting out blood. “You would say this. You, who she trusted. You, who is betraying her as we speak.”
“You’re one to talk about betrayal,” Agos spat, his face contorting. “Enough talk. Let’s finish this.”
The doors creaked. I expected the soldiers would’ve begun trying to batter it. I didn’t expect the solid narra wood to burst into flames.
I was at the far end of the great hall, closer to the throne. Agos and Rai stood right next to the entrance hall. I called to them one more time, begging them to stop.
The splintered doors fell forward. A man burst in—a mage, I realized with a start. Belfang. Flames hovered over his hands. And then the soldiers streamed behind him, a formation of six, three on each side—a pincer attack, bows drawn. They dropped to their knees. Six arrows flew and struck Agos from behind.
He turned. Six more arrows lodged straight into his belly and his heart.
“No!” I screamed. Inside my head, I heard the gods laugh.
The soldiers moved past him, racing after the Shadows and Thanh. I didn’t know where to turn. But I saw the sword fall from Agos’ fingers, clattering to the ground, saw the blood pouring from him, and my heart shattered.
Khine caught him first. I didn’t know where he had come from, and didn’t have time to dwell on it at that moment. I arrived a second later, my hands reaching out to cup Agos’ face. He was still fighting, his eyes streaked with red. “Don’t die on me now, you bastard,” I whispered. “Agos. Agos! Khine, you have to save him—please…!”
The expression on Khine’s face—that look of dejection, of helplessness…I had seen it before with the Gasparian merchant and knew all was lost. I pulled Agos to me. His eyes were flickering, losing light.
“Princess,” he whispered.
I pressed my head over his. “I’m sorry, Agos. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”
He tried to smile, and then he grew still.
I screamed his name as I cradled him on that blood-drenched floor, the once-powerful body now limp in my arms. I screamed over and over again, the ache wrenching itself around the frantic tones and tears, as if my voice was enough, as if I could somehow call him back to me. Whispering into his ears did nothing; my own, ragged breath did not stir his. Yet I knew he would have returned if he could. If he could, he would’ve torn his way through time itself.
But no man or woman, not even a queen, holds authority over death. I should’ve told him it was fruitless trying to carve a path outside this constructed world of ours. How could we dream of freedom with what we were and what was placed on us? Loyalty, love, the thought of love, even brief moments of what we were sure would always be ours…burn me, drive a stake through my heart, just let me be with you. We owned nothing, us pawns of the past. The shadows that pulled the strings came from within.
I held him, though, even as the soldiers thundered through the great hall and the servants came and I heard his mother’s own anguished cry. I held him until they left me alone and his body grew cold in my arms. One’s traitor, another’s friend…I imagined that in another place and time, if I had not been betrothed to Rayyel, if I had never met Khine, we might’ve been happy together. Always, these thoughts, once it was over and done with. As if they could change a damn thing.
~~~
The Shadows escaped with my son.
The Ikessars searched Oka Shto from top to bottom, following the tunnel all the way to the temple and then back, but they had disappeared as if into thin air. As much as I hated their presence in what was rightfully my castle, they at least did me one favour—under Rayyel’s orders, they pulled every Zarojo delegate out of their rooms to be brought back to Shirrokaru for questioning. But the harshness with which they dealt with the entire situation gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. They didn’t look at me, or acknowledge my presence at all. Within the hour, they turned and declared my son, the false heir, a fugitive, which spoke of the irony that we had led the Shadows to Thanh just in time. Agos’ sacrifice had not been in vain.
Khine had managed to lose his assassin, though not without trouble. He got to Oren-yaro just as the Ikessar guards came marching up to Oka Shto. He joined them in disguise, wanting to see the situation in the castle for himself. My relief at learning he was alive was masked by the shock of grief. I wanted so badly to weep in his arms, but a part of me was aware that after everything that had happened, I could never trust myself to make those kinds of decisions again.
Warlord Ozo refused to see me. After they took Agos’ body away, I was escorted to my room in silence, a prisoner in my own castle while I awaited the inevitable. Death, civil war, a mad prince on his way to our shores, my son a hunted bastard…The War of the Wolves was nothing to what I knew we were about to face. My father was in everything, in every corner of this nation, in every gasp of air I took, and though his crimes were not mine, I knew I was doomed to pay for them for the rest of time. For if Yeshin’s sons had not been killed and he had not been compelled to march to civil war, I wouldn’t have been raised the way I was—the bearer of everything, his heir in every way, both sword arm and womb. I would have never been betrothed to Rayyel, never been born. I could deny my shackles, but they would always be a part of who I am. If I had known from the beginning, I would’ve let them smother me.
But I am not a seer. I am one woman, heart as bare as the sun and powerless against the pitfalls before me, the gaping maws of fate. Perhaps someday I could be forgiven for the blindness that had brought us thus far; for now, I knew it was up to me to dig through the ashes where Yeshin once stood and unravel the threads he had left behind. Who else could do it? Who else would? Qun was right—I had everything to lose. And maybe I wasn’t strong enough, maybe I wasn’t worthy, m
aybe a mere shadow had nothing to a man whose dying breath could shape an entire nation, but if it meant having to wear this shattered armour for the rest of my father’s battles, then so be it.
Alone, I could still fight.
The Xiaran Mongrel, Annals of The Bitch Queen Book 3
Courage is overrated, or so cowards like me say.
Courage implies choice.
Magister Arro used to lecture me about the nature of things: how a tree must remain a tree, for instance—straight and stalwart, branches spreading to the sky, roots ever-reaching. Build a fence around a sapling and the tree will break it as it grows—swallow it, even, wire and wood sinking into the trunk like it was quicksand. “And so,” my father had said once, interrupting such a lecture with a sweep of his arm as he was wont to do, “a wolf must remain a wolf, no matter what. Never forget this, Talyien.”
Presumptuous, pious, arrogant Oren-yaro. No wonder we were hated and feared. Hated more than feared, if you learned to read between the empty smiles and polite gestures of everyone outside the region. Once I had taken pride in that, cloaking myself in the rhetoric my father had beaten into me for as long as I could remember. Now, perhaps I remained a wolf, but one who was running through the woods while hunters tore after her with spears and arrows, hungry for her pelt. No pack to be part of, no cave to hide in, no moon to howl at. It wasn’t courage that kept me running. With my son branded a fugitive, a bastard, and a trial hanging over my head like an executioner’s axe, I had no choice but to continue down this path. Even the sweet release of death was denied from me. To kill myself would be as good as a confession, and I could never do that to my son, to the one thing that remained good and right in the world.
I used to wonder what my father thought of me, holding me as an infant. Did he see a girl-child, a babe, that carried his eyes and his smile? Did he count my small, delicate fingers one by one or stroke my hair with his thumb while a part of him swore to change his ways? Or was I ever the she-wolf, his bitch pup, and nothing but?
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