The Dragon Star (Realms of Shadow and Grace: Volume 1)

by G. L. Breedon

  “To that end, I must tell you that I will not be able to remain long after the wedding.” Rhog-Kan took her hands again. “And I may not return in time for the birth of our son.”

  “The war resumes?” Dju-Tesha frowned. She had not considered the possibility that her future husband might not be at her side during the coming months.

  “Yes,” Rhog-Kan said. “It seems inevitable.”

  “I thought these battles along the border would be easily won.” Dju-Tesha had heard him talk of the ongoing conflict and his confidence in Tigan Tan-Lo’s success.

  “They shall be. And soon.” Rhog-Kan released her hands and stepped to the window overlooking the western gardens and the preparations for the wedding reception. “They are likely fighting as we speak. Our force’s victory will be a wedding present for your brother.”

  “But you see the war expanding again.” Dju-Tesha followed him to the glass panes.

  “I hope so, yes.” Rhog-Kan stared out at the garden, his face unreadable.

  “Why would you hope such a thing?” Dju-Tesha placed a hand on his shoulder in mild concern. He had never struck her as a man consumed with blood lust.

  “To see it finally ended.” Rhog-Kan looked away from the window and back to her, his face stern and serious. “I must convince your brother to capitalize on this border fight and press to end the war once and for all. I ask for your support in this.”

  “Me?” Dju-Tesha blinked in surprise. Yet another request for assistance from an unexpected source. “If my brother is not swayed by your experienced council, he is unlikely to be moved by mine, limited as it is.”

  “He trusts you. And he respects your learning.” Rhog-Kan smiled, his face losing some its solemnity. “As I have come to do as well.”

  “Then I must not hide another secret from you.” Dju-Tesha paused a moment, taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to look away. Shy women looked away. Weak women could not speak and look at whom they spoke to. She would be that woman no longer. “I am uncertain if pursuing the war to a conclusion is possible or wise.”

  “You believe your brother’s path of inaction can lead to reconciliation?” Rhog-Kan shook his head in surprise. “I did not take you for such a fool.”

  “I am no fool. You should know this best of all.” Dju-Tesha lowered the tenor of her voice and tried to still the nervousness in her stomach. She had no experience in stating her beliefs aloud, much less defending them. But should she not be able to speak her mind with the man she loved — the father of her child? “I do not think the Tanshen zhan will ever accept a reconciliation, regardless of how the battle we are now fighting is resolved. Nor do I suspect that a full capitulation can be accomplished by escalating the fight.”

  “What alternative is there?” Rhog-Kan crossed his arms, and he stepped back to examine Dju-Tesha. She thought he looked like a man suddenly discovering his favorite hunting hound held wolf’s blood in its veins.

  “In the years leading up to the First Great Dominion, Zhan Laudaa-Tian’s great grandfather, Phan-Raa, found it impossible to subdue the Kytain tribes of the plains in the east.” Dju-Tesha’s voice naturally took on a lecturing tone, her normal defense against conflict. “Instead of attempting to invade, or allowing the plains people’s border raids to continue, he commissioned the construction of The Great Eastern Wall. Isolation brought peace and eventually unification.”

  “I am not completely unlearned in history.” Rhog-Kan said, his voice revealing his annoyance. “I have seen the ruins of the wall with my own eyes in my youth.”

  “Really?” Dju-Tesha stood taller. He had seen the wall that she had only read about, been places she had only dreamed of going. She found it made her want him badly and wondered if they had time for a tryst before the ceremony. She stepped closer and put her hands on his chest. “Your secrets are fascinating.”

  “You suggest we build a wall between our northern and southern dominions?” Rhog-Kan appeared oblivious to her sudden increased interest in him, his mind assailing the notion with professional regard.

  “I do.” Dju-Tesha sighed slightly, but kept her fingers on his chest. She liked the feel of his firm muscles beneath her palms. “It would make border fights and full invasion nearly impossible. And it might force a lasting peace on both our lands.”

  “It would be the death of reunification.” Rhog-Kan looked past her as he considered her words. “The end of all hopes for a Fourth Great Dominion.”

  “For now,” Dju-Tesha said. “And maybe for a generation. But it would bring peace.”

  “It is an interesting idea.” Rhog-Kan looked back to her and placed his hands about her waist.

  “Then you will consider it?” Dju-Tesha tried not to sound too surprised that he might contemplate following an action she suggested.

  “If we fail to win your brother’s approval to end the war properly.” Rhog-Kan nodded.

  “I suppose I can ask for no more.” Dju-Tesha adopted a voice of limp sincerity. “I am merely a woman who reads books forgotten by men.”

  “You are far more than that.” Rhog-Kan kissed her briefly. “You are my future wife. The mother of our child.”

  “A son, you said?” Dju-Tesha raised an eyebrow. Why did men always wish for sons? She did not care what sex the child might be. Only that it be healthy and remain so.

  “A son, yes.” Rhog-Kan pulled her close. “And he may keep you too busy for books.”

  “You wish to make me abandon my studies for motherhood?” Dju-Tesha smiled, but her stomach clenched as she realized she had voiced aloud a fear she had been keeping herself from admitting.

  “I am certain you can manage both.” Rhog-Kan grinned and held her tight. “To deny you books would be like denying water to a flower.”

  He kissed her again, and she forgot all about books and the coming of her child. One thing did not pass from her mind, and she looked him in the eyes as her lips parted from his.

  “If you should go to war, you will promise to return,” she said.

  “I will always return to you,” he replied.

  She knew she could not hold him to that promise, but she convinced herself to trust in it anyway. He did not have time for more than a few more kisses and left her shortly afterward. She lingered for a moment, wondering at how different her future seemed now than it had merely half a year ago. A book-worn spinster soon to be wife and mother.

  Knowing she still had some minutes before she needed to arrive for the ceremony, she retreated to the eastern inner park, a patch of grass and trees less than a fifth the size of the main garden. She sat on her favorite bench beneath her favorite tree, and read her favorite book, Ruminations, by the incomparable Zhan Yaol-Zan, founder of the Second Great Dominion. She kept the cover of the book obscured. While veneration of the ancestral zhans was encouraged, the fact of Yaol-Zan’s Tanshen heritage, and that he ruled from that dominion, might appear disloyal to the Daeshen ascendancy. She softly read aloud the words of the passage that had haunted her since first discovering the book in her fifteenth year.

  “Happiness lies nowhere but in the mind. Weave your thoughts into a harmonious web that it might gather all good notions together and provide you with the strength to bear the misfortunes and hardships of life with equanimity.”

  “Is this truly what you intend to wear as witness to your brother’s nuptials?”

  Dju-Tesha looked up from the sublime words of a long dead ruler to the consternated frown of her mother’s face.

  “Greetings, Mother.”

  “I have seen sacks of grain with more proportion.” Her mother huffed and sat down beside her.

  “You look lovely as well, Mother.” Dju-Tesha smiled, inwardly trying to ignore her mother’s words. Hold not to hard words, for they harden your heart. Another wise saying of Zhan Yaol-Zan.

  “Why must you be so obstinate?” Her mother crossed her arms. “You were ever an obstinate child. Always willful.”

  “I only ever wished to be left alone t
o read.” Dju-Tesha paused a moment in speaking that obvious truth to wonder at the cause of it. A question she needed to return to at a later time. “Why can you not see me for who I am rather than who you wish me to be?”

  “I see more than you realize, girl.” Her mother looked askance at her. “And it is not what I wish for you that is important. It is what your duty calls you to do that holds significance.”

  “I have always done as you asked.” Dju-Tesha struggled not to pout as she spoke the words to her mother. A grown woman with child and engaged to be married did not pout.

  “In your own time and your own way.” Her mother sat rigid and unmoving beside her.

  “I am soon to be wed, Mother.” Dju-Tesha watched her mother’s face in profile. “Does that not satisfy your lust for duty?”

  “It is your lusts that are of more concern to me.” Her mother turned suddenly, staring fiercely into her eyes.

  “I do not…” Dju-Tesha blinked as she stammered.

  “Did you think I would not notice?” Her mother huffed again and turned away. “Did you believe you could swath yourself like a ship set to sail and conceal the cargo? I will admit, at first, I simply thought you to have taken on weight as consequence of an unrestrained appetite. It took some time to realize that appetite did not revolve around pastries.”

  “Mother…” Dju-Tesha found heat rising in her face and spreading throughout her body, making the forming of words uncomfortably difficult.

  “Silence yourself.” Her mother glared at her. “You have spent most of your life quietly slinking into shadows; you can listen to me now as I cast light upon your circumstances, for I am certain you have not realized the full ramifications of what you have done.”

  “I have done as I wished for once in my life.” Dju-Tesha raised her chin as she spoke, even though her voice did not sound as loud in her own ears as she had intended.

  “When have you never done as you desired?” Her mother shook her head slowly. “Your father indulged you to your detriment. It has left you unable to consider the world outside your books and that head of yours. Have you contemplated what it means to carry the sole heir to the ascendancy in your womb?”

  “I … No.” Dju-Tesha frowned. The notion and its implications had never occurred to her. She listened as her mother explained what should have been obvious.

  “Although your brother will be wed by nightfall, there is no guarantee that he and his new bride will produce an heir,” her mother said. “While we must pray that they have many sons, it may be a year or more before that comes to pass. It may be even longer. They would not be the first to be slow to propagate. It took two years before I had your brother Fan-Mutig. Much can happen in such a time. Particularly when repeated efforts have been made on your brother Tin-Tsu’s life. Should one of those attempts succeed before Rin-Lahee can bear a child, you will assume the ascendancy as guardian zhan, and your child, if it is a boy, will be the heir. With a famed and loved tigan as your husband and a babe in your arms, some may see that as greater incentive to kill your brother. His policies have not been well received. Many would love to see a tigan as consort.”

  “I had not considered this.” Dju-Tesha turned away from her mother, feeling a sense of shame, more for the unconsidered consequences of her actions than the embarrassment of her mother knowing about them.

  “Clearly.” Her mother uncrossed her arms and took her daughter’s hand.

  “What can I do?” Dju-Tesha looked back to her mother, her heart filled with worry and confusion. She had stepped directly into the poisoned maze of court politics that she so detested.

  “We will not be able to hide your condition for much longer.” Her mother placed a tentative hand on Dju-Tesha’s belly. “You must marry swiftly and announce that you are with child soon thereafter. We cannot avoid the turmoil this will create, but we can mitigate it, and the danger to your brother, by having you publicly support his decisions.”

  “Why should anyone listen to me?” Dju-Tesha found herself confused by the notion. It had been odd enough that her lover and brother might listen to her advice. “No one ever has.”

  “You have never been interesting enough to listen to, my dear.” Her mother patted Dju-Tesha’s hand. “With the prime tigan at your side and his child in your belly, your words are suddenly of interest to many. And those who would seek to exploit the situation must see no shade between you and your brother that might tempt them to cut his tree down in favor of yours.”

  “I did not want any of this.” Dju-Tesha’s eyes welled with tears as she clasped her mother’s hand. “I simply wanted to be in love.”

  “You are a tahneff and heir to the ascendancy of the dominion.” Her mother reached out and pushed a clutch of stray hairs from Dju-Tesha’s face, something her mother had done often in her childhood. “You are lucky to have love, for as odd as I find it, Rhog-Kan clearly adores you. However, it will be all you can hope to gain and much will be asked of you in return.”

  “I should have stayed with my books in the library.” Dju-Tesha sighed and looked at her belly, immediately regretting the words and considering them wrong. The child had been conceived in the library, and that must be a true goodness.

  “Possibly.” Her mother’s voice sounded comforting and filled with long suppressed pride. “But you can no longer be the mad librarian. And I am glad of this. You are wasted among dusty shelves.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Dju-Tesha smiled once more, a small child again filled with joy that she had pleased her mother in some minor way.

  “You will not believe this,” her mother said, “but I do wish for your happiness, even as I fear it will be difficult to secure.”

  “Were you happy, Mother?” Dju-Tesha asked. “With Father?”

  “Not at first.” Her mother looked around the garden as though seeking something she’d lost among the petals of a nearby bed of irises. “When we married, it stood to profit the dominion, not our hearts. But I came to see in your father things I did not find in other men. And once we discovered a love between us, I did find happiness. And then he died.” Her mother continued to stare at the flowers a moment more.

  “I must go.” Her mother stood up, releasing Dju-Tesha’s hand. “Please find something less awful to wear before I see you in the temple. Wrap yourself in a curtain if you must.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Dju-Tesha blushed as her mother bent to kiss her daughter on the forehead before departing the garden.

  Dju-Tesha sat for a while, contemplating what her mother had said and her conversation with Rhog-Kan. If the war returned to full force soon, and her brother left for the battlefield before producing an heir, she would bear the future of the dominion in her womb. The weight of that burden made her limbs weak and her stomach nauseous. She did not want that responsibility, for herself or her child. She wanted to protect her child — safeguard it from the cruelties of the world and the responsibilities that might be thrust upon it one day.

  She had always sought to shelter herself in the same manner and only now realized how her choices had forced her to leave that safety behind — stepping from a warm burrow into the open fields, hawks circling above. She hoped she would be strong enough to fend off the attacks she knew would come, or be fast enough to outrun them. She winced at the metaphor. She had never been strong or swift or cunning. But she did possess a sharp mind. Might one cut down one’s potential enemies with a mental blade honed fine enough? She could not flee from the turmoil her decisions wrought, but she could reason her way out of them.

  Dju-Tesha smiled and stood and walked through the gardens and the corridors of the palace. She had just enough time to find something more appealing to wear before her brother’s wedding.

  To continue reading the Throne story arena follow this link.

  THE WITNESS

  ONDROMEAD

  “YOU LOOK lovely.”

  “Thank you, Mother Zhan.”

  Ondromead sighed quietly where he stood behind an ornate
ly painted wooden screen. He stared at nature scenes of cranes and trees and fields as he listened to the women. He had been walking though the doorway he thought led to the kitchens, only to find himself stepping from a closet and into the dressing room of the woman he assumed to be the bride of the day’s events. Ondromead peeked through the frame of the dressing screen to stare at the women. He had seen the elder woman in her youth, at the last royal wedding in the palace, the one that had ended so badly. He had seen her again afterward as well.

  “‘Mother’ alone will suffice for a title now,” the older woman said. “We are to be family, after all.”

  “Yes.” The young bride bowed slightly. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “You may leave us now.” The mother zhan turned to the three attendants who had been helping to dress the bride. “I wish to speak alone with my new daughter.”

  Ondromead watched as the three woman attendants departed the room. The bride looked to the older woman with an expression of concern.

  “Is everything well … Mother?” the bride asked.

  “Everything is as it should be,” the mother zhan replied. “I merely wish to have a few words in private before your wedding day takes all of your remaining time.”

  “That is very generous of you, Mother.” The bride bowed faintly again.

  “You do not know what I wish to say.” The mother zhan examined the bride closely.

  “I am certain it will be for my benefit, whatever it may be.” The bride held the older woman’s gaze.

  “Yes, it is for your benefit.” The mother zhan looked away from the bride and walked to the open window of the room, a slight breeze stirring her long, coal and ash hair. “When I wed my husband years ago, his mother, the previous mother zhan, visited me before the ceremony and imparted words that she said had been handed down from one bride to another as they married into the ascendancy, a tradition stretching back hundreds of years.”