CHAPTER THREE

RIVERS OF BLOOD

I could hear Khine’s breathing as we walked, loud enough that I started to measure the rise and fall with every step. Rivers of blood. I could already guess what history books would say after this. I landed in Anzhao City and heads flew. What else did they expect from Jin-Sayeng’s Bitch Queen? Once upon a time, I might’ve been able to manage a smirk at the thought, even carry it with pride. Now I could only feel exhaustion, a candle burnt at both ends.

I know that I made for a poor queen. If nothing else, the last few months here in Anzhao had taught me that. I didn’t know how to respond to situations as befitting a queen, as Arro had warned me so often. Which was something that didn’t used to bother me when I was younger—I was convinced that I was upholding my father’s name, damn those who thought otherwise. Even after Rayyel left, I could pretend that it was all on him, or the Ikessars, or Chiha Baraji, his woman—that I was following my father’s path with every ounce of my being. But as time went on, the crown grew heavier, Thanh grew older, and…

My son’s resemblance to Yeshin is remarkable. Which is odd when you consider that I only knew Yeshin as an old man, and Thanh was still so very little—black hair instead of faded wisps of grey, smooth skin in place of wrinkled flesh, bright eyes that had yet to see a broken world wherever he turned. I remember the first time I ever noticed it. It wasn’t long after Rayyel left. Thanh was playing with a paper ball in the gardens, throwing it in the air and laughing as it floated down for him to catch. I realized it against the sunlight—it was there in the turn of his eyes, the shape of his nose. My father’s ghost. It almost made me scream.

From then on, I couldn’t look at him without seeing a glimpse of my father, which always brought with it a mess of conflicting emotions. This boy that looked like Yeshin was heir to the Dragonthrone. The Ikessars never said a word about it, but I could feel the gazes turn to him whenever he toddled through the halls, as if they were measuring how much of him was falcon and how much was wolf.

Every time their judging eyes fell on him, I felt the urge to shield him from them and tell them to go to hell. It didn’t matter what he was—he was my son. These laws, these tenets, these words, I wanted to strip them off him and throw them into the nearest fire. You will not be governed by the same shackles that brought me here, I wanted to tell Thanh. When you’re Dragonlord, you will rule as you see fit.

But I kept my silence. He wouldn’t have understood—he was still a child, and the things he cared for had nothing to do with clans or laws or kingdoms. What he loved were books and animals, and flowering plants and the bugs that paid them a visit. “Do you think the flowers like it when I water them in the morning, or at night?” he asked me once, and I had to turn the question over in my head, because how could he ask those things as he gazed back with my father’s eyes? How could these words come out of a mouth that had ordered the deaths of thousands?

The Ikessars blame me, of course. At every turn, they accuse me of indulging the boy, of making him as carefree as it looked like he was becoming. But I knew that I could never foist so heavy a burden on him as my father had on me. To me, he was just a child. He was just my son. And I needed Rayyel to see that, even if it came at the risk of confronting the truth. Why did it matter whose seed planted the boy in my belly? If I should not be blamed for my father’s sins, my son should not be punished for mine.

“What’s this?” Agos called out. I noticed smoke curling from the rooftops on the street ahead, black tendrils shooting to the sky.

“Gods damn them all,” Khine whispered as we reached a store at the end of the street. The door was in splinters, the decorative jars smashed, and the curtains ripped to shreds. He turned to me with a grimace. “Jien Hatzhi’s shopfront. I don’t think there’s anyone in there, but…”

“Should they be open this time of the day?”

He nodded.

“Then someone got here first.” I frowned. “Eridu said his shop was ransacked, too. Someone else is looking for Rayyel.”

“Or maybe someone doesn’t want you to find him,” Agos said. “Maybe you should listen.”

“This isn’t like last time.”

Agos crossed his arms. “Isn’t it? I told you we need to focus on getting home. You need people—you can’t do this alone. And if someone wants that asshole dead? They can go right ahead and save us the trouble. They’re more than welcome to his corpse.”

“This is Thanh’s life we’re talking about here,” I murmured.

“So what will you do once you find that man?” Agos asked. “Beg him to reconsider? You tried that already. Ask him to return things to the way they were? Even after everything he’s done to you and Thanh…”

“Prince Thanh,” I reminded him. “And we can’t get home, not with that embargo still in place.”

“We could try to find passage elsewhere.”

“While Rai’s trail grows cold, and we might be left stranded anyway. No, Agos. This isn’t like last time. The man threatened my son. The man who was supposed to love and protect us threatened to kill my son. Do you think I’m going to let that bastard go free after that? He has to answer for this.”

“So at the end of the line, what then?” he asked, nostrils flaring. “If I have to kill him, you won’t stop me?”

“We have to find him first.”

He turned away, his face red.

“Agos,” I repeated, walking closer to him.

Agos finally glanced up. “If anything happens to you…” he began.

“Nothing will happen to me,” I replied.

“You say that now,” he said, drawing his brows together. To his credit, he didn’t raise his voice this time. “Look at how this empire has chewed you up. From the moment you stepped foot here, you’ve been nothing but a tool in everyone’s political games. You’re the queen. This is supposed to be your game. They’re supposed to be grovelling, every single one of the bastards.”

“And you think you can break their knees to make them do that?”

He sniffed. “I can try.”

“This isn’t like when we were children,” I reminded him. “These aren’t young recruits looking at me the wrong way.”

“It kills me that you don’t get the respect you deserve,” he grumbled under his breath.

I wanted to tell him I didn’t need him worrying about such things for me. But it was exhausting being in this position at all. My own father had no faith in my abilities; why should anyone? That Agos remained at all still surprised me. I once took loyalty for granted, but in the wake of every betrayal since I’d arrived in the empire, I was starting to re-examine my relationships under a different light. Out of everyone in the world, Agos had all the tools to betray me. He was a fixture of my childhood, a remnant of my life before I ever truly understood what I was supposed to be—before my father’s death, before Rayyel. Even his scent was pleasantly familiar, reminding me of home as it had been. Of hot afternoons chasing after dragonflies, stuffing them into glass jars and watching them whiz around before letting them go by dinnertime, and childhood games played with sandals and chalk. Even the way he breathed, the sound of it, brought back memories of his mother’s cooking—sour fish stew with red onions and tomatoes, my father’s favourite, or cubes of pork belly with green chiles, coconut milk, and shrimp paste, or her specialty: squash and fish patties, fried to a crisp perfection.

Agos could hurt me. He hasn’t. At a time like this, it was all I needed. I knew it was a sorry position to be in, and years ago I would’ve scoffed at the idea of embracing such a thing. But being kept in a dungeon for months by your father’s chosen prince could really put things in perspective. I wanted to tell him I appreciated his presence, and then wondered how much of it he would take the wrong way.

Or maybe you shouldn’t care what a cook’s bastard thinks.

I cringed at the internal rebuke. In that same instant, I caught sight of a familiar figuring sauntering towards us from the bridge.

Lo Bahn was not an overly huge man, but it was difficult to describe him as anything but substantial. Equal amounts of fat and muscle covered his tattooed body, and when he walked, you couldn’t help but pay attention. He kept his thick beard neatly trimmed, a sharp contrast with the rest of his rough appearance. “What the hell are you doing, Lamang?” he barked. “I don’t pay you to run around with her in the middle of the day. Look at this godsforsaken neighbourhood.”

He glanced at the trail of blood in the river with the sort of distasteful look you would give a dead rat before turning to me. “And you. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“I didn’t—” I began.

“It was me, Lo Bahn,” Khine said. “I killed someone. Eridu.”

“The Gasparian merchant with the garlic breath? I always did find the man offending, but whatever for?”

“Her affairs.”

“You’d kill for her, but not for me?” Lo Bahn looked amused.

“What do you know about all of this, Lo Bahn? We were led to believe it was done under Governor Qun’s orders. Something to do with the former Governor Zheshan’s disappearance,” Khine said.

“Right.” Lo Bahn’s eyes flickered. “I need to speak with the queen, Lamang.”

“You’re free to do that any time you want.”

“Without you.” He huffed. I had heard my dogs make that sort of sound before.

Khine smiled. I think he wanted to refuse, but Lo Bahn had too much power over him. He seemed to drag his feet as he walked away, the sort of man who played at being a fool when he despised the idea of authority. “Why do you keep him around?” I asked. “He clearly doesn’t like taking orders from you. I’m sure you’ll find more compliant henchmen.”

“Don’t let him hear this, but he’s the smartest man in Shang Azi and I need that more than ever. I can have the insolence beaten out of him if I want to. I’m still deciding.” Lo Bahn craned his head towards me. “Come,” he said. “There’s something I need you to see.”

Agos started forward. Lo Bahn snarled, holding a hand out. “She needs to come with me alone.”

“Lord Han, no offense, but…”

“You don’t trust me. Bah! As if that hasn’t been clear to me since you pumped me full of wine and pretended you slept with me. Lucky for you, my old woman’s coming back in a week’s time. If I were you, I wouldn’t even mention how we met.” He snorted, as if not quite believing he had uttered such words.

I didn’t, either. “You, Lo Bahn? Scared of your own wife?”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he retorted. “Are you going to come or not?”

“Where to?”

“Just outside the walls.” He looked calm enough, but I noticed his whiskers twitch a little, as if trying to snort away a foul scent that persisted on clinging under his nose.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not,” I said.

He sighed. “I was hoping you’d be more cooperative.” He clicked his tongue.

Agos lurched forward, but before he could draw his sword, four spears appeared around him, held by guards in full uniform. He gritted his teeth. “Bastards.”

“Qun’s?” I asked. “Sleeping with the enemy now, Lo Bahn?”

“Qun’s not my type.”

“He had you tortured after what happened with Zheshan. Your fingernails haven’t even grown back.” I saw his fingers twitch in reflex, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. “They all warned me this was going to happen. They warned me, and I didn’t want to believe them. I thought we had a deal, but I guess deals are flexible for some.”

He looked almost embarrassed. Almost. I have since learned that those who betray you know exactly the sort of knife they’re plunging into your back, and though they might feel shame—they might even feel pity—nothing short of a better offer will stop them from twisting the blade. “I have to look out for my own. I have children, too, Queen Talyien.”

“And I guess you don’t seem to care that what you’re doing is going to jeopardize my own child.”

“No,” he agreed. “I don’t. But I’m giving you the courtesy of being honest about it.”

“Thank you for such a warm and unexpected compassion,” I growled.

He snorted and called for the guards to escort me.

Six months ago, a betrayal from Lo Bahn wouldn’t have stung.

That was before Zheshan’s untimely demise in front of us, before he had slid a blade into himself and bled all over Lo Bahn’s pristine wooden floor. It was the first time I saw fear in Lo Bahn’s eyes. A man like that, breaking his mask—the only thing more surprising would’ve been the sight of my own father shitting his pants. You don’t forget a thing like that easily.

Once we were able to shake ourselves out of our stupor, we rolled Zheshan’s body into the closet and wiped the floor before anyone else arrived. We left him there for over a day—there were too many people walking in and out of Lo Bahn’s house, and I had to leave early in the morning to meet with my husband by the harbour. Much later, Lo Bahn woke me in the dead of the night to help him drag the stiff, blue body of the governor to his garden, where we buried him in an oversized jar. He insisted on no servants—we were the only ones who knew. I marvelled over how I could feel so much guilt over someone I didn’t kill.

The image of Lo Bahn holding out that shovel to me in the moonlight hovered between us like a shadow as he led me down the street and to a road cresting the outskirts of the city. A queen who dug her own graves was not a good omen, no matter how you looked at it. I wondered if Zheshan might’ve been the lucky one.

By now, a steady rain was beginning to fall, strong enough to flatten my hair as soon as I heard it dripping from the rooftops. I immediately regretted not taking a warmer cloak. Lo Bahn strode ahead without flinching, as if he was unaffected by the cold. It was not the first time that I felt cowed at the thought that a gambling lord could somehow act more noble than a queen.

We reached a slope by the end of the walls, at a low, crumbling portion unmanned by the city watch. Patches of grass grew through the cracked ground, interspersed with black soil. A man with a torch was waiting for us beside a headless statue of a rok haize. I recognized Ben Taey, one of Lo Bahn’s. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgment before accompanying us past the walls and out of the city.

We walked alongside the ditches for some time before Ben Taey extinguished the torch into the running water, allowing the darkness to cover us. I opened my mouth, but Lo Bahn pressed a finger to his lips before pointing. I followed the gesture and saw a mass of shapes on top of a gorge, the black gap as ragged as the side of a dog’s jaw. I blinked. When my eyes adjusted, I saw a long line of soldiers along the rocky cliffs, their armour slick from the rain. They walked in pairs while holding a body between them. Once they reached the edge, they braced their legs and tossed the body over the boulders and dead brush.

“Remnants of the massacre,” I said in a low voice. I watched as another body tumbled with a spray of loose gravel, swirling into the blackness below.

“There are many Jinseins among the dead. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“I suspected as much.”

Lo Bahn sneered. “It has nothing to do with you, believe it or not, though it’s true that Acting Governor Qun has no reason to love you. He knew you were involved with the attack on the governor’s office. And you killed his wife, which he has chosen to take very personally. I’m not sure why—the woman was a hag. I’d have just gone and picked another. Plenty enough healthy spinsters in Anzhao.”

“Let’s not speak of the dead that way.”

“Hag she was, and hag she will remain in my memories and the afterlife. She can haunt me if she wants. Of course, Qun always knew you were staying with me. He’s not an idiot.” Lo Bahn gestured at the bodies. “All of this—this is just a show. Your meddling has quite clearly been the best thing that’s happened to him in his life.”

“So what’s all this for, then?”

“A pretence at flushing you out, to make it seem like he’s doing something about Zheshan’s disappearance. Why not get rid of a few pesky Jins along with it? As for Qun, better for him if Zheshan remains missing. If word gets out that the man is confirmed dead, there’ll have to be a re-election immediately. But while Zheshan’s whereabouts remain unknown, he’s in a good position to maneuver things to his benefit, make sure that the vote falls to his favour when the inevitable re-election occurs. This purge—this is just the beginning of many. It’s Qun’s way of positioning himself right in the heart of Anzhao City’s politics.”

“It’s almost as if you admire his daring.”

Lo Bahn smiled. He liked it when you followed his train of thought—not many people did. “Look there, Queen Talyien,” he said, drawing my attention back to the mass grave.

I squinted against the rain, towards the spot where body after body was being grabbed by the limbs and swung into the open crevice without a care. I could see the gaping wounds where the soldiers had hacked at them, ripped flesh and bone. Merchants and shopkeepers and dishwashers—people of no importance to anyone but themselves and their families.

“You helped with this,” Lo Bahn murmured.

I bit back the inclination to disagree. “My son’s life is at stake.”

“Children,” Lo Bahn said, “are easy to make.” He sneered. “But I suppose you’re not that much different from me after all. Come. We’ve made him wait long enough.”

“I’m not just going to give myself up to him without a fight.”

Lo Bahn smiled. “I don’t blame you. He’s the type of two-faced snake that you wouldn’t want to ally yourself with.”

“As opposed to you?”

“I told you that I’m an honest man, Queen Talyien. Honest enough, anyway.” His eyes hardened. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. What would you have me tell my wife? That I lost our fortune because I let some woman get to me? The blood money I’ve had to cough out for the families of the men who died at the governor’s office, my assets that were confiscated because of my involvement in the first place…”

“Illegal assets, I was led to believe. Apologies don’t mean anything, Lord Han. And here I thought we were doing so well in our newfound friendship.”

“Not as well as I had hoped for.”

“Sleeping with you wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. You know that.”

He laughed. “A man’s whimsy.”

“An old man’s whimsy.”

“You know how to cut into a man’s soul. You really do.”

“And you of all people know how badly I react to force.”

“Don’t think you have to remind me. It’s why you’ve got me by the balls in the first place.” He sniffed and fell silent, forehead creased as he continued to watch the bloody burial—if you would even call it that. The bodies were being discarded like animals. To the soldiers, these were carcasses, not people.

I remembered, with a hint of shame, how much I had admired the way the Zarojo ran their cities when I had first arrived at Anzhao. It was the sort of prosperity that Jin-Sayeng had once enjoyed. Perhaps it was better if we lingered in poverty if this was the price to pay. Every upheaval, every shift in power, seemed to come at a cost. I looked back at the limp bodies, drenched in mud and rain, unseeing eyes staring at the godless skies, and imagined I could feel my father’s hand on my shoulder. His own actions, nearly thirty-two years ago, had resulted in tens of thousands of deaths. This…this would’ve been nothing to him.

The soldiers parted in the distance, and I recognized the straight, narrow-shouldered form of Ino Qun as he strode in. Qun was still wearing the same sombre clothes that I remembered, with the same pencil-thin moustache over his lip—at first glance every bit the government official, the sort people trusted. I made that same mistake in the first place, months ago when I had first sought shelter in his household. He was speaking to the soldiers, heedless of the pelting rain.

I felt Lo Bahn take hold of my elbow and, with one last snort, lead me down the path.

Qun was still speaking to his soldiers when we arrived. Two guards stopped us in our tracks, spears crossed to block our way. Qun tipped his head forward, rain dripping over his square hat. He looked like he had been expecting us to appear from the darkness all along. “Queen Talyien of Jin-Sayeng,” he said without a hint of surprise in his voice. “You honour us with your presence.”

It was a thinly veiled insult, especially considering that he was the one who had me brought here. “Well, but how can I miss your promotion?” I asked, responding to smooth affront with my own practiced words. “Well-deserved, I hope,” I added.

“Why wouldn’t they choose me?” Qun asked. “I’ve served faithfully. There was a vice governor, but he was struck with an unfortunate accident the same week our dear Governor Zheshan disappeared. The gods can be most unkind sometimes.” His eyes darted to Lo Bahn. “Lord Han. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for sheltering the Beloved Queen. You’ve done the empire a great service.”

Lo Bahn spat to the side. “Spare me the pleasantries, Qun.”

“Lord Han is angry. Rightfully so—the law can be very specific at times. He is, however, lucky to still be alive. The Zarojo Empire rewards good service quite appropriately. You know this, of course, Lord Han. I truly hope that it was a mere slip of the memory that caused you to try to convince us for months there was no queen of Jin-Sayeng in your safekeeping, that you didn’t even think Jin-Sayeng had a queen, and that, furthermore, if you met her, you would…and I quote, fuck the living daylights out of her first before handing her over to us.” He smiled, a true politician’s smile that was better than my own.

Lo Bahn didn’t even looked embarrassed. “I say things, so do you,” he said. “What of it?”

I strode forward. “We need to speak, Governor Qun.”

“We are speaking already, are we not?”

I gave a grim smile and glanced to my right, where the soldiers were still tipping the bodies into the gorge. “This is all a bit too much, isn’t it? These are my people.”

Qun shook his head. “Drop the false concern. These aren’t yours anymore. The empire gave them full citizenship and allowed them to live as if they were born Zarojo all along. They, unfortunately, chose to conspire against our beloved Governor Zheshan. This manner of death is pretty lenient, as it stands. We could’ve rounded them all up and cut them to pieces in front of a crowd.”

I wasn’t sure how he could say such things with a straight face. The difference between an elected official and one like me who had no choice, I suppose: he was a lot better at pretending. “Perhaps Lord Han is right,” I said. “Let’s get to the point, Governor Qun. You and I both know what’s going on. I’d like to find a solution we can both benefit from. My precarious situation prevents me from offering too much to you right now, but as soon as I’m able…”

Qun held a hand up. “Queen Talyien, I don’t think you are aware of your situation.”

I rubbed rain from my eyes. “What do you mean?”

Qun clicked his tongue. His soldiers parted, revealing two bound men on their knees. I looked back at Qun in confusion. “You probably don’t know them,” Qun said, a faint smile on his face. “So let me introduce you: Jien Hatzhi, and a son. I’m not exactly sure which one. The other one, er, died resisting arrest.” He made a mocking bow towards the two prisoners.

“You’re a bastard, Qun.”

“Mmm,” Qun said. “Did you think you could slink around Anzhao City without your activities being documented? Come now, Queen Talyien. Surely you can’t be that naive. But we can’t have you leaving the city, now, can we?”

“This is a personal matter between my husband and me. It has nothing to do with Anzhao’s politics.”

“I beg to differ, Queen Talyien. Your husband was last seen on a ship leaving the docks with a retinue of Governor Zheshan’s finest soldiers. A thing like that, happening so soon before dear Zheshan was found missing? Suspicious, mighty suspicious. Of course, we had to know where they were headed. It was a chartered ship; it left no schedule.”

A thought drifted into my head. Let Qun catch Rayyel. Let the snakes take care of him, and be better for it. But I quickly realized the danger of such an arrangement. Did I want them learning about what my husband was trying to do? About troubles that were better kept behind Oka Shto’s doors, where they belonged?

“Rayyel didn’t conspire against Governor Gon Zheshan, you bastard,” I found myself saying. “He…” I felt Lo Bahn’s hand on my elbow. I turned to him. “The man committed suicide, Han!”

“Now, now,” Qun said. “You can’t really be running around the city letting everyone know that. Whatever would they think of us?”

I heard a loud cry, and turned in time to see one of Qun’s soldiers stick a spear into Jien Hatzhi’s son. Blood spurted out of the boy’s mouth, but he didn’t die immediately. The soldier kicked him away, sending him rolling along the dust. His father crawled along the ground after him, sobbing. He picked up the crumpled body.

“I think it’s time to talk, Hatzhi,” Qun said, kneeling over the wrecked man. “Someone came by asking about shipments you’ve made to mages from a certain Gasparian’s shop. You had no reason to lie to them. You would’ve told them exactly where.”

“You should have killed me,” Jien groaned. “Me, not my sons.” His Jinsein accent was unmistakable. Jinsein—and Oren-yaro. I felt a twinge of shame. This was someone who had grown up back home, who had to learn Zirano as an adult, who probably felt like he had to take a name that wouldn’t stand out so much in the empire. If he had assisted Rai and his priestess friend, he would’ve done it from the goodness of his heart.

Qun patted Jien’s face. “Now, why would I do that? They would’ve clammed up. The young are admirably foolhardy, but it’s also terribly inconvenient.”

“Go to hell, Governor.”

“You have a couple of young daughters somewhere, with your mistress. Don’t you want them alive to inherit your shop?”

Jien’s son began to convulse. Jien wrapped his arms around the boy’s body, his face shadowed with resignation. “The featherstone mines in the Ruby Grove,” he finally whispered. “That’s where the merchant sent his wares. I recommended the woman take a ship south, to An Mozhi, and take the road from there.”

“Now, was that so hard?” Qun asked. He turned to one of his soldiers and nodded. A spear struck Jien Hatzhi from the side. He would’ve seen it coming, but he made no motion to avoid it. My people embraced doom like warriors, but I wondered inwardly if it was still something to be proud of. Pride can only get you so far.

“Cleaning up is such a messy business,” Qun said, breaking my thoughts. He seemed amused by his own observation. He turned to me. “We have, of course, sent men to bring your husband Rayyel to justice.”

“He didn’t kill Zheshan,” I said. “If you’ve been watching us this whole time, then you’d know…”

“Woman!” Lo Bahn warned.

I took a step towards Qun. “You don’t really believe that about Rayyel and Zheshan, do you? It was Lo Bahn who attacked the office. Yet despite dragging Lo Bahn in for questioning—torture, even—you haven’t tried to arrest him. Why not? Is it because an arrest will mean an investigation, and an investigation may lead you to Zheshan’s body, the one we hid in Lo Bahn’s garden in a jar?”

Lo Bahn began to swear. I ignored him. A flaw in my personality, I suppose—I felt very little remorse for people who betrayed me first. A loyal friend, a bad enemy—all I did was borrow a bit of his poison. Just like he said, I had to look out for my own.

Qun stared. His eyes were cold. Hard.

I smiled. “Such an investigation would be bad for you, Qun. Confirmation of Zheshan’s death by his own hand means no conspiracy. No conspiracy means a re-election. It’ll mean—”

A guard grabbed my shoulder and struck me on the jaw before I could finish speaking. I tried to strike back, but another had his hand on my wrist and twisted it, driving me to my knees.

“Enough,” Qun said. “I don’t know why you think you have the upper hand.”

On the ground, I laughed. “Qun, you snake. Anything happens to me, word will get out of what really happened to Gon Zheshan. Once his body is discovered, you’ll lose this cushy position of yours.”

“Did you think such a thing worries me?” Qun asked. He turned to the soldier behind him. “I want both of them detained.”

Lo Bahn roared and charged the guard nearest to him. The blow barely rattled the armoured man, who brought an elbow down on the back of his neck. More guards stepped forward, crowding him.

I lifted my head towards Qun. “You fool. You think you can hide this and somehow pin the blame on Rayyel? He is a Jinsein monarch from a respected clan. You’d risk stirring the wrath of every warlord in Jin-Sayeng and bring war to your doorstep?”

“War will happen, Queen Talyien, whether we want it or not,” Qun said in a low voice. “My only concern is preserving what little I can.” He turned around. “Send men to intercept Prince Rayyel in the Ruby Grove,” he told his attendant. “If we can catch him on the road, all the better for everyone. If we don’t…they’ll take care of him from that end. The fool doesn’t realize he’s heading straight to his death.”