Heir of the Dragon

by Anna Logan

  She flinched. There had been a stronger sense of conviction when Zoper had been standing there, looking rather like an innocent boy as Yhkon had threatened him.

  Yhkon turned to Skyve. “What happened to her? Did she hit her head?”

  “Well, she did,” Skyve put his hands in his pockets, “but...this isn’t new. So it’s not that. She’s uh...we’ve let them go before.”

  “I can talk for myself.” It came out so feebly that it sounded like a lie. “The Tarragon aren’t your average Kaydorian idiots. It would be a big risk to fight them like that. I—”

  Yhkon’s glare softened to a frown...he wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t convinced either. “I know that’s not what th-this is about. You’ve never got around...gone…” He said something in Sanonyan and exhaled sharply. “Can I talk to Talea alone, please?”

  The others all drifted off. He sat down on the ground beside her. Now that it was just the two of them, his speech impediment instantly became less noticeable. “You’ve never crossed me like that. Especially not with an audience. I’m not saying you don’t have the right to. But I need to know what’s going on.”

  “I just...I don’t want to kill him. Or for you to kill him.”

  “The captain? Kaydor’s nephew?” He shook his head. “If anything, he should be a priority. He’s valuable to Kaydor, so—”

  “I don’t want to kill any of them!” The outburst brought a sharp stab of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath to ease it.

  “Broken ribs? Breathe. Slow and steady.” Yhkon took her hand, waiting until she had regained control of her breathing. “Better. Now tell me what you mean.”

  Making an effort to keep her emotions in check, she spoke evenly. “I’m sick of killing. I’m sick of all of it.”

  She could see he was trying to understand. Trying to grasp the way she felt, despite how foreign it was to him. “I get that...but we’re not fighting for fun. We have a purpose for all this.”

  Did she dare say it? “No we don’t.” It came out as a whisper. “We’re not saving the San Quawr. Far more of them will die in this war than they would if we just got them to Calcaria. And—”

  “We shouldn’t have to! They should be able to la-live here, like anyone else, not run from persecution.”

  She had to say the rest. “But we all want to kill Kaydor for being a tyrant and yet he’s making Zentyre better! We would make it worse, if we—”

  Yhkon’s Sanonyan, golden complexion was turning red. She realized a little too late that Kaydor was a foolish topic to broach. “You’re defending him? Saying we shouldn’t k-kill him because he’s done a few things right? He…” His fists clenched. “He personally murdered—”

  “Yhkon.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I know what he’s done to you...I’m not defending him. But I just...I don’t think this war is right.”

  With visible effort, he relaxed. “The Eradication is wrong. That is what we’re fighting. Doesn’t that make us right?”

  “I just…” She was losing control of her breathing again. Between the pain and the conflict, tears were stinging her eyes. “I can’t…”

  Sighing, Yhkon hugged her. She couldn’t help feeling like he did it impatiently. “There’s some Elikwai thirty miles out that are heading back to Calcaria, I’m sending you with them. At least until your ribs heal.” He lowered his voice. “I need you to find some clarity. Come back when you do.”

  14

  Home

  C ALCARIA.

  Being home should have given her more joy, or at least peace. Perhaps it would have...were it not for the guilt that all the other wards and the Wardens were still in Zentyre. Fighting. Like she was supposed to be.

  She was at least glad to be done with the long flight. The Elikwai she had flown with helped her down and straight into a waiting carriage. Word had been sent ahead that the Aysa of Calcaria was returning home.

  Supposedly due to injuries.

  The carriage driver clucked to the coliyes and they started at a trot. She leaned her head back, staring out the window. Winter was falling in Zentyre, so it was almost springtime in Calcaria. The snow had melted and a little green was coloring the ground. Until they entered the city, where it was all cobblestone...and people. With the warmth, Calcarians were out and about, and they all knew what a palace carriage looked like. Heads turned, people waved, parents pointed and explained the significance to their children.

  As a public figure, she should have waved back. All she could do was stare.

  At the palace, two Stitches were waiting for her. She explained her diagnosis—broken ribs, otherwise just bruises and scratches. Under different circumstances, she would have stayed in the field through her recovery and simply avoided fighting as much as possible for a few weeks. If they were surprised, they did a good job of hiding it as they nodded and suggested she rest after her journey, they would check on her later.

  Rest was exactly what she had come for. Rest, and clarity...at least one of them she could manage. In her bedroom, she carefully lay on the bed in the position least painful for her ribs. Her maid, Mirea, came in after awhile, with a warm greeting and the offer of a bath and food. Talea accepted both. She soaked in the hot water, taking as much comfort from it as she could; then gorged herself on a delicious meal, not caring that it was more than she needed.

  After that, she lay down again and asked Mirea to tell any visitors that she would see them tomorrow. For now, she just wanted to sleep.

  She had only been awake a few minutes the next morning—or afternoon, she hadn’t yet bothered to determine the time—when someone knocked. Probably her family, or a council member. There was little point in putting either party off any longer. So she got up, slipped on a robe and socks, and limped to the door. A massive bruise on one of her thighs from the fall was almost as painful as the ribs.

  She opened it to see neither her family, or a council member, or anyone else that she might have guessed. It was Shanteya.

  The woman smiled a greeting but already seemed to have moved past pleasantries and politeness. “Yhkon wanted me to make sure you were alright while you were here, and keep the council at bay as much as possible.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Uh...how did he—”

  “He sent me a letter, with the Elikwai that accompanied you here. Also one for the council, I believe to give them a thorough report so you wouldn’t have to.”

  Well, she would have to squash any slight resentment she’d felt toward Yhkon for ordering her back home like a naughty child. Clearly he’d put more thought and care into helping her than she’d expected. He hadn’t sent her home simply to get her out of the way. “Somehow he still manages to surprise me. Well, come in.” She opened the door wider. If Shanteya, the former queen of Sanonyn, could abandon decorum, so could she, the former village girl. “I admit...I didn’t realize you and Yhkon were uh...on those good of terms?”

  Shanteya sat down on the sofa, graciously pretending not to notice that Talea had lazily dropped some of her gear on it. “We weren’t. But I talked to him shortly before you all left last time, just the two of us, and I think that helped. Are they well?”

  “I think so. I only really saw them for a little while, and I thought Yhkon was mad at me for most of that time, which changes things...but yeah I think they were okay.”

  “Good. Well.” She put her hands on her knees and somehow managed to make it seem a dignified and queenly gesture. “He said in his letter that you were having some difficulties other than the injuries, that brought you home. Would you like to talk about it? If it has anything to do with your position as a leader, I might have something to offer.”

  “Being the leader doesn’t help.” Talea absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the armrest. “It’s true I never wanted to be Aysa. I suppose he told you that.”

  “He did. I never wanted to be queen.”

  “But...you had at least been raised for it, right? You grew up as a princess? I think so
metimes everyone forgets that this...it’s still kind of new to me. I’ve been the leader of the Eight and all that for three years, but before that, I was a…” she laughed a little, “I was a laborer. I was far more concerned with not starving than with the fate of the San Quawr.”

  Shanteya nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true, and of course it’s a big difference in our situations. But, while it’s a disadvantage for you in some ways, it’s an advantage in others. The best leaders understand and care about the lowest of their followers. You know what life is like for those in poverty, you know what it’s like to be among the ignored and trampled masses. So you might be able to make a difference for them.

  “If I hadn’t met Grrake,” she smiled a little, “I imagine my rule would have looked different. Worse. I knew nothing about the San Quawr, before he told me. Who knows, I may have continued the Eradication in Sanonyn instead of ending it.”

  Talea sighed. “I would love to make a difference for laborers, for the people who grew up like I did. But that’s not what I’m doing. I’m fighting a war that will, if anything, make their lives worse, and kill thousands of San Quawr, and Zentyrens.”

  “The thing about wars…” Shanteya thought a moment. “A few years into my reign, I had to choose whether or not to take Sanonyn into a war. I chose the war. And often I regretted it—wars are ugly, and horrible, no matter how good the cause is. And the costs are always far greater than we expect. But some things are terrible enough to make it worth the costs.” She gave Talea a meaningful look. “Yhkon said you were struggling with the fact that Kaydor is, in some respects, a good king and has improved the conditions of the lower class. I already knew this. Kaydor and I have had some communication as rulers of currently allied regions. I saw from the beginning that he had great ambitions for improving Zentyre and the means necessary to achieve them. But I also know what he did to my son.

  “The thing is, Talea,” she took a measured breath, “you can’t always balance a quality with a flaw. While Kaydor’s political standpoint, his intelligence, and his efficiency are all wonderful traits for a king, they can’t counterbalance the terrible things he’s done. Think of all the people you know who have lost loved ones because of his Eradication.”

  Talea dug her fingernail into her thumb. It was a long list. Yhkon, Wylan, Ami, Larak, Resh, Brenly...and so many others.

  Shanteya’s serene countenance started to crumble. “I don’t think Yhkon has told you these sorts of details...but it wasn’t just that his siblings and fiance died in the Eradication. Kaydor broke into their house in the middle of the night. He killed Yhkon’s aunt in front of them, and his older brother when he struggled.” There were tears in her eyes and a tremble in her voice. “The girls...they were just eleven and thirteen...he enslaved. And Yhkon, a nine-year-old boy, he had beaten and left to die.”

  She took a deep breath, gathering herself. She did it with impressive control, managing to steady her voice even if the sadness was still visible in her eyes. “A man that can do that has to be stopped. It doesn’t matter what his qualities, or what the costs.”

  ~♦~

  All those times she had teased Yhkon for his constant complaining about council meetings—she was mentally taking them back after twenty minutes on her own in the council room.

  Enisham wanted to know everything. Yhkon had indeed sent a written report, and they’d let her read it to see if it was accurate. It was perfectly thorough and up to date. Yet still, Enisham wanted to clarify this, and confirm that, and question everything. Had sending her back been wise, when she was often the only one that could get them out of impossible situations? Why had all their encounters with the Tarragon ended in a draw, again?

  That one was a little harder to explain. Yhkon had said it was because a full fight with them was sure to end in casualties and she hadn’t been willing to jeopardize the wards’ lives like that. Talea did her best to simply reiterate that answer to Enisham’s satisfaction.

  At length they let her go. At least they had waited to have the interrogation until she’d had a full twenty-four hours to rest. It was about all she had done—sleep, sit about, and eat. The Stitches that visited her confirmed that it was all she could do, her ribs simply needed time to mend.

  After Shanteya’s visit, she’d found it even harder to cope with the feelings of guilt and regret. Half of her was just glad she was out of Zentyre, out of the fight. The other half wished she were back. At least then she wouldn’t feel guilty.

  Leaving the council room, she walked to the Wardens’ hallway, instead of the wards’. Being one of the few people who had a key, she went to Yhkon’s door, unlocked it, and slipped inside. Opening the curtains for some light, she knelt at one of the dressers—the boring, plain one, not Jaylee’s with ribbons tied around the knobs. In the bottom right drawer was a small canvas with a sketch of Tessa. He had eventually shown it to her last year, on one of the rare occasions that he was willing to even say her name.

  Talea sat down with it, careful not to jar her ribs. Yhkon had told her that she reminded him of Tessa, and looking at the drawing, she could see why. He said they had similar personalities, too. At some point she had realized that maybe some of his protectiveness of her came from that. Even though their relationship was far different, maybe some part of him thought of her as a second Tessa.

  Talea was surprised by the lump that rose in her throat and the stinging in her eyes. She had never met Tessa. Maybe it was just on Yhkon’s behalf, since she had seen how her loss had tormented him. Maybe it was the picture in her mind, of Yhkon—younger, without the constant shadow in his eyes yet—holding Tessa’s body after it fell from Kaydor’s sword.

  “Talea?” Mahzin’s voice came from out in the hallway. “Are you up here?”

  She wiped away a couple stray tears. A conversation with Mahzin was bound to happen at some point. Who knew, maybe Yhkon had sent him a letter too. “Yeah, in here.”

  Mahzin poked his head into the room, then snuck in like he expected Yhkon to pop out and stab him for trespassing. “Well, this place has livened up since Jaylee moved in! Ah.” He saw her holding the canvas and stopped, his expression growing more grave.

  “You’ve seen this before?” She held up the drawing.

  “Yes.” He sat cross legged on the floor beside her. “There was a short time after she died that Yhkon was so desperate that he visited me, looking for companionship or comfort I guess. I think that’s part of why he’s uncomfortable with me now...he feels he was too vulnerable then, and you know how he is about what he thinks is ‘weakness.’ Anyway, yes, for awhile he always had it out. He would sit there staring at it while we talked. Then he put it away and tried to forget about it, about her.” He sighed, looking at the drawing, then suddenly perked up to ask her, “What brought you in to look at it?”

  “Oh...I don’t know. Maybe...maybe I was trying to remind myself that Kaydor really does need to be stopped.”

  “Well I hope you succeeded.” He smiled. “That was never in question. Or, that is, I never meant to insinuate it was, I know last time we spoke—”

  “No, I know you didn’t...and I think I am convinced of that now, at least. Of him needing to be stopped, despite being a good king in some ways.”

  “I’m glad. So you’re feeling better, about it all? Found a little peace maybe?”

  Talea gave a dry laugh. “No. I thought you said it wasn’t so simple?”

  Mahzin clicked his tongue, as if chastising himself. “I did, didn’t I. Well...some things are simple. That good people should stop bad things is one of them.”

  “Which helps...but I still, well, there’s so much else. Like you said, even if we win, we don’t have the right to take control of Zentyre, and we wouldn’t be good at it, and in the meantime—”

  “Aysa!” Mahzin grinned. “Slow down. There are many questions in life, many more than any of us will ever know. We can’t answer all of them.”

  She set the canvas down. “So…?”

>   “So…” He shrugged. “Stop trying to answer all the questions. You’ve found the answer to one, let that be enough for now. Usually, answers come along in their own good time, not when you want them to. Oh, I should say...they come along in Narone’s good time. He knows what we need to know and when we need to know it. He doesn’t want all of us to know everything, or some of us to be all good and some all bad...we all have good, we all have bad, and we all know bits and pieces but no one the whole.”

  Sometimes listening to Mahzin was exasperating. “I have no idea what that even means.”

  “Me neither.” He laughed, rather like someone laughing at their own joke. “Perhaps it means this: I think you’re trying to categorize everything as good or bad, right or wrong. But you can’t. Kaydor is not all bad, and the San Quawr are not all good, nor vice versa. So you don’t need to know all the right answers and do all the right things...you focus on doing what you do know is right, one step at a time, and trust Narone to guide you to the next thing when the time is right.”

  Trust Narone. Such a simple concept that she was supposed to readily accept...why did it make her lip curl with distaste?

  “Ah,” he grinned almost conspiratorially, “I see that is a touchy subject.”

  If that appalled him like it would most, he certainly didn’t show it. “Well...maybe.”

  “Good! That’s good.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve heard that’s okay, or I understand, but never...good. Aren’t I supposed to have this wonderful, loving relationship with Narone?”

  “Ah-ha, see! You’ve already hit the key on your own.” He pointed at her emphatically. “Relationship. Do you have a single relationship with another person that doesn’t have its ups and downs?” He scooted forward in his chair, eagerly. “Off the top of your head, who would you say you’re closest to?”

  “Uh…” That felt like a trick question. With Mahzin, it probably wasn’t. “Yhkon.”