CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE HOLY BLUFFS

The sun rose behind a drizzle of rain as we broke our fast with toasted rice coffee, dried fish, sticky rice, and more conversation about the agan and the effigies. Namra looked eager to have someone to talk to other than Rayyel. Given that she had just spent the last three years with him, I couldn’t really blame her. I wondered if it was truly devotion to their shared god or penance for some unimaginable crime that drove her to serve him. A bit of both, probably. Afterwards, she left to see if she could borrow oiled cloaks from the villagers, which gave me time alone with Rai in the covered deck. A moment with my husband, watching raindrops dripping along the shingled roof before they plopped to the ground, where they gathered into furrows in the soil…

I sipped at the scalding coffee before glancing over the rim to stare at Rai. I knew that I had to start with him somehow. He was both a threat, and a solution. I went through the options as I blew on the coffee to cool it down. I could kill him—

And yet you haven’t.

—but it was as good as declaring war against the rest of Jin-Sayeng, because to explain why would be to announce my son’s supposed illegitimacy anyway.

I could let him do whatever he wanted while I made my way to An Mozhi, to that ship. I could accept Kaggawa’s help, which of course wouldn’t come free. Nothing did. And then I still had two choices: I could accept his terms, or pretend to accept his terms. My father would’ve done the latter.

Your father wouldn’t have sunk low enough to have no choice but to be at the mercy of people who used to work for the Ikessars.

And then there was that last option: I could give our marriage a chance.

Rai had made a good enough argument, after all. If my son was also his, and if he could prevent the rumours from escalating with facts—and if we didn’t get deposed by the council for the way we would choose to present those facts—then maybe we could rule together at last. But that was more ifs than I was comfortable with. It felt like wildly swinging into the void, hoping to catch my enemies unaware. I’d been in enough fights to know they don’t work like that.

I heard him clear his throat, and realized I had been blowing at my coffee long enough to make it tepid. I swallowed half of it in one gulp before returning the bowl to the table. “How…did you sleep?” I asked, before chiding myself. With my eyes closed, is what he would probably say.

I was wrong about that. He merely grunted in response.

“The air here smells wonderful, at least.”

“We’re by the sea.”

“Yes.”

“The salt—”

“I know.”

He stared at his food, and I stared at mine. I wondered which of us was worse at small talk. It would be a close contest between a man raised by monks and a woman raised by dogs. Eventually, I couldn’t get past the awkward silence and excused myself to take a walk. Another person would’ve commented on the weather, at least, or asked me if I was feeling well; Rai just grunted again.

My body, surprisingly enough, felt better than yesterday. Apart from my sore shoulder, my legs were starting to move with ease—a sharp contrast with my frayed mind. I went through the gate and turned at the first alley. There, I stopped to stare out at the sea. The waves were unusually rough that morning, crashing against the rocks into a spatter of mist and sea foam. It reflected the state of my nerves, of what the last few hours had reduced me to. Without realizing it, I began to make my way back south to the bridge. I hadn’t even gotten that far when I saw Mei walking towards me.

I called to her. She turned. Her clothes were soaked, as if she had been walking under the rain for some time. “Have you seen Khine?” she asked.

“He didn’t spend the night at home?”

Mei shook her head. “I was hoping you knew where he would be. His sisters don’t. I’m worried about him.” Shaking, she reached out from under her sleeves to grab hold of my hand. Her fingers were deathly cold. “He seems to think highly of you. Please, if you see him, tell him—tell him it’s not too late to start over. A chipped sword…still has an edge.”

“I will.”

“Because he thinks that he’s done for—that he’s used up everything he could have ever been and that I and his sisters and his brother are paying for his mistakes. But perfection is only for the gods. We have to keep going even if all we have left are pieces of what we thought we were.” She looked like she was going to start crying.

I almost didn’t want to talk about what I had learned last evening. But I had to—there wasn’t much time left. I led her to the alley under the shelter of the overlapping rooftops and waited for her to calm down before telling her everything. Of the mages in the temple and how they had been using the priests as a front to get the villagers’ blood, how the featherstone mines now housed an army’s worth of things that would use the blood to draw power from them.

“Warn the villagers. If they begin acting strangely, it’s because the effigy with their blood is being used, and until it is destroyed, the link to them remains. Try to keep them safe until then—they haven’t gone mad, it’s all the mages’ doing. We’re heading up to the temple now, where I intend to get to the bottom of this.”

She took this news better than yesterday’s—in fact, she became almost calm. When you’ve made it your life’s goal to pass minute judgments on people and their character, you start to recognize that look of resolve and strength. Mei Lamang was someone who knew how to crawl through life, someone who had weathered enough pain for several lifetimes.

I heard Namra calling for me from the other end of the street. I turned back to Mei and pressed both of her hands together. I kissed them. “You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “Your son is a good man.”

“You told me that already.”

“And I don’t just say these things. I have a son, too. He’s only eight, but I understand your fears. I am so far away from him—I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again. But if he can grow up half as compassionate as your son…” I trailed off, hearing my own words. Compassionate? Compassion was for the unencumbered. My son was both Ikessar and Orenar, a seed of two warring clans. He needed to be strong to survive—to be unyielding, ruthless. Because if I had proven anything, it was that the smallest crack could bring a whole building down.

“The man on the street yesterday,” Mei said, her voice raspy. “He’s your husband?”

I nodded.

“I see.”

“What—what do you see?”

She reached up to touch my face and gave me the ghost of a smile, one that made it easy enough for me to admit how much I envied Khine for his mother. “My son is a restless soul,” she said. “And he thinks he is somehow equipped to deal with the injustices of this world. Or maybe he’s already learned that he isn’t, and that is why he is so angry. When he is angry, he will do reckless things. I had hoped love and marriage would calm him down.”

“My experience has been the complete opposite.”

“Perhaps. But that is why I was so sad when I heard about Jia. My son needs an anchor, or else he’ll let the sea wash him away.” She squeezed my hand. “Will you stop him, if you can?”

I should have said no. Instead, I nodded. The light in the woman’s eyes drowned out all my doubts.

I rejoined Rai and Namra by the gate. She had found cloaks and wide-brimmed hats made of dried reeds, which did a decent job of keeping the rain off us. Not that it helped much in my case; my clothes were already damp from my walk. We made our way past the streets to the lake, and the narrow, rocky trail that wound around it. The lake looked more grey than blue through the torrent of raindrops—a grey, broken mirror with a thousand cracks.

We continued up until the lake was a dot below and the midsummer air became thick fog, an impenetrable blanket. I could barely see Rai ahead of me. The sound of rainfall was soothing, at least…the trickling of countless small streams was a welcome distraction from my roiling thoughts.

My luck ran out with the first crack of lightning in the sky.

“Well,” Namra said, looking up. “That was unexpected.”

“Midsummer rain,” Rai replied. “Lightning is expected.”

“Could’ve told us that,” I whispered, wondering how they kept each other company in the last three years with such dull conversation. The sky began to rumble. “We should stop while there’s still cover.”

Rai made a noncommittal sound that indicated he was comfortable either way, but Namra agreed. We found a small alcove under an array of tree roots and boulders. I sat with my back to the soft soil and buried my face in my lap. I heard movement and saw Rai settle next to me.

I gazed at him from the corner of my eye. He had grown thinner than when we shared our lives together. Life on the road was a stark contrast with the one in the palace, where entire days revolved around shuffling in and out of meetings. For perhaps the first time in my life, I understood that I didn’t know much about him at all. I knew about his interests, but not what he thought of the world. I knew about his life, but not his hopes for the future. I had incorrectly assumed it was all the same as mine. It was an odd conclusion to come to about the man I claimed to love.

“You understand why I have to do this,” he said in a low voice.

I blinked. I didn’t realize he had noticed me looking at him. “I don’t, Rai,” I murmured. “You know I really don’t. Everything you do confuses me.”

“I am not truly an Ikessar.”

His words caught me off guard. “They changed your name in the books,” I said, wondering what he was getting at.

“A name means nothing,” he replied. “Names do not change the truth of things. They can call me an Ikessar as much as they want, but it doesn’t change that I spent my whole life proving it. Why me, when they had so many others to choose from? The father I never met was married to another woman, and my mother never loved him. Sometimes I think she had me just so she could maintain her power.” He lowered his eyes, as if ashamed of his outburst.

I simply stared back, unsure if the man I was listening to was the same man I had married all those years ago. I thought they had raised him the same way they raised me—irrevocably the future Dragonlord, without a shred of doubt. You will rule the land, my father would say, with certainty. What did his mother tell Rai? That he could have Jin-Sayeng if he didn’t roll over for the wolves?

“You can understand why I do not want it done a second time,” he said in a lower voice. “A lie on top of an untruth. Is this the basis for which you’d want us to rule?”

I digested his words while I held back the familiar anger. I didn’t know what to tell him. It is difficult for someone who had grown up with so much to consider it from the perspective of another who had to earn the very same things I took for granted. It felt like listening to a new language, or viewing the world upside down. “And so you refused to be crowned,” I managed.

“My uncle Rysaran, the last true Ikessar, thought he needed a dragon in order to rule. Calling himself a Dragonlord when he had no dragon was something that went against his beliefs. He disappeared before they could crown him, too. When I found out about…about all of that…I needed to do something. I didn’t want to be an imposter setting another imposter forward as heir. Imagine how my clan would react. I left you to be crowned as queen because I didn’t want to fracture the land.”

“Your proposal with Zheshan would have accomplished the same thing. What would splitting Jin-Sayeng have done?”

“My clan’s concerns would have been divided. The boy remains heir to Oren-yaro and would be safe, for a time.”

My throat tightened. No—I understood nothing at all.

“If…” I found myself saying. “If Thanh isn’t yours, couldn’t you just let us be? I’ll…I’ll step down.” Agos’s words came back to me. Take Thanh and just run…

“Escape the Oren-yaro? Or his guardians? Neither of us has enough people we can trust for that. The boy will die by my hand, Talyien—peacefully. Need I remind you how brutal my mother was to your father’s supporters? I am afraid that she will consider the boy an appropriate tool for the vengeance she couldn’t exact.” There was hardly a flicker on the expression of the stone wall that was my husband. I thought a wolf of Oren-yaro was unyielding; I had no idea how deep the Ikessars’ own tenets ran. I thought all they did was preach about the things the rest of us were doing wrong. I had always known Rai was stubborn, but not to what extent. That he had asked a priestess for assistance, among all the people he could’ve turned to, spoke volumes.

A thought occurred to me. “What did you do for the two years before Namra joined you?”

“A vow of silence,” he murmured.

“Akaterru be damned. You’re a priest now?” It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

“As was my mother, and Rysaran before me.”

“It was Rysaran’s selfish decision to stick to his ideals that caused the War of the Wolves in the first place. Self-made ideals—I understand how important these are for everyone who follows the texts of Kibouri, but they’re not practical. These ideals made him abandon his duties, just as…just as they made you abandon yours.” I realized how badly I wanted to ask him about Chiha. But it was not the sort of question I could think about without getting irrationally angry, and I chose to leave it at that.

“I am not Oren-yaro, Tali. But you are. I knew you would try to hold things together, that you would be queen to the best of your abilities. I wasn’t wrong.”

No one else but Rayyel could irritate while offering praise, all in one breath. I turned away in time to see a figure emerge from the fog. No hat for this one, not even a cloak—his clothes were soaking wet. I lifted my head from my knees when I recognized Khine.

“Doctor,” Namra greeted.

“I’m not, really,” Khine mumbled, dropping into the shelter of the alcove without waiting for an invitation. He looked at me, and then at Rai. “I’d like to go up to the temple with you.”

“Go back to your mother,” I said. “I’ll speak with Belfang on your behalf. I—”

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” He sat on a rock, a good distance from the rest of us. “No sign of your guards?”

“None. I’m sure they’re fine—they’re probably stuck under some tree or rock like we are.” I wasn’t sure when I’d become a nervous chatterer.

He nodded, swallowed, and gestured towards us. “And you’re not killing each other.”

“For now,” I said. I smiled at Rayyel. He didn’t reciprocate.

“That’s progress.” Khine began coughing.

“You’re drenched. Was it too hard to find proper clothes?”

“Would’ve taken too long. I wanted to catch up to you.”

“And where did you spend the night, anyway?”

“If I had known all you were going to do was pester me…”

“You knew I was going to pester you. You came anyway.”

“You allow him to speak with you thus?” Rai broke in, in Jinan.

“He can understand that, you know,” I said.

Rai looked embarrassed for a moment, but he recovered swiftly. “I believe that as queen, you should know to remind people not to overstep their bounds.”

“Akaterru, when did you morph into both Magister Arro and Yeshin? Fine—Lamang, this queen wishes to remind you that you are not allowed to speak with me thus. Happy, Lord Rayyel?”

Rai frowned.

The thunder stopped, the rain ceased, and we returned to the trail. My heart was racing again, and I was trying very hard not to look at Khine. I tried not to compare how he was nearly of Rai’s height but with thicker limbs and broader shoulders, or how he shuffled through the drizzle like a wet dog, unlike Rai who strode forward as if he was on some death march—eyes hard, face expressionless. Two men couldn’t have been more different.

We reached the base of a cliff. The trail split, winding around both sides. Perched above was the temple—a grey, moss-covered building that shot straight into the sky. It had two narrow towers on each end, marked by stained-glass windows on every floor. Rainwater from the faded yellow roof dripped into a pond, which overflowed and spilled over the rocks like a small waterfall.

The trails both led up a flight of steps carved right into the mountain before joining once more in front of the gates. There were two priests waiting for us at the top of the shared landing.

“Beloved Queen,” they said in unison. They bowed. Before I could reply, they turned and tugged at the iron rings of the enormous wooden gates.

We entered a vast courtyard, past a grove of fruit trees, most of which were flowering at that time of the year. Clumps of moss grew from the cracks in the stone footpath—some had flowers on them, too, red and purple capsules shining with dew. One of the priests led us up the path while the other closed the gates behind us. Another man waited for us between the arches that marked the entrance to the temple. He was clad in regular clothes, not priest robes. He bowed when we approached, so low it looked like he would tip over.

“Let me guess,” I said, before he could speak. “You’re the missing mayor.”

He blinked. “Missing? I don’t—”

“Feng, isn’t it? Your daughter was most insistent that you were on a trip. Of course, since she couldn’t be bothered to lie properly, we all thought you’d be here. We were right.” I patted his shoulder. “That’s all right. I understand the need for secrecy. Maybe you just wanted a vacation, maybe you’ve got a lover up here…”

He turned red. “It’s nothing of that sort.”

“I don’t know what it is you’ve heard about me, but believe me, I don’t take heads off for no reason. Speak truthfully and you’ve got nothing to fear.” I dropped my hand to my sword and cocked my head at him with what I hoped was an innocent-looking expression. “Would you happen to know where my guards are? They came up here yesterday. They haven’t returned since and we didn’t see them on the road.”

“They were—”

“Ah hah!” I exclaimed. “So they were here.”

“We were told you don’t accept most visitors,” Rai broke in.

“We—we didn’t accept them,” Feng stammered. “We caught them spying. The priests brought them in.”

“Spying?” I pretended to look surprised. “They came here to speak to you on my behalf. What would they be spying on? Is there something you’re hiding?”

“Such a violation of Holy Shimesu’s sacred grounds…”

“Enough of this,” Rai said. “You know the queen. Do you know me?”

“Lord Rayyel, of course,” Feng replied, turning to him. “Forgive me if—”

“Lord? Not Dragonlord? Not even Prince?” I wondered out loud. “Whoever told him about us doesn’t acknowledge Rayyel’s position.”

“You don’t, either,” Khine whispered behind me.

“That’s not the point,” I hissed back.

“Considering that Lord Rayyel was never officially crowned…” Feng stammered.

“Yes, yes, we know all about that,” I said. I walked past him and started up the steps.

Feng turned around. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re not in charge. And the fact that you’re here means it’s not the priests, either. I promised I’d look into this and I will.”

“Could it be Qun?” Khine asked.

“Qun’s soldiers were still near the mines,” Rai answered.

“That’s because they were looking for you,” Khine replied.

“I wasn’t aware I was the object of their investigation.”

“You just slipped by them without even realizing—oh. I think I get it, now.”

“Get what?”

“Nothing.”

I held my hand out to silence them both as we strode into the antechamber. Even though we were indoors now, the damp smell of moss and clay pervaded the air, strong enough that I could feel it on my skin. We walked past small alcoves lit with white candles and reached a large, circular hall, where sunlight streamed from three windows on the domed ceiling. The multiple light sources made our shadows jump with every motion.

Feng’s sandals clicked on the floor as he caught up with us. “Queen Talyien, I must insist that you not go any further. Lord Rayyel has it right. The priests do prefer not to entertain visitors, but they made an exception in your case and it would be best if we respected the sanctity of these halls.”

“Sanctity,” I said dryly, turning to face him. “Tell me, Mayor Feng, what sanctity is there in allowing your villagers to be drained of blood by power-hungry mages?”

He looked back in shock. “The blood—it’s to help find a cure for the featherstone ailments. Surely one of the villagers would’ve told you.”

“Notice he didn’t deny the power-hungry mage part,” Khine said.

“You’re right.” I stepped towards him. “You’re housing mages here. No sense denying it, Feng—Belfang has already admitted as much. Also, another interesting thing…Lord Rayyel found the effigies you’ve been keeping in the mines. Maybe you can explain that, too, before we write a strongly worded note to your Esteemed Emperor in Kyan Jang. Your involvement won’t be overlooked.”

“What?” Feng stammered. “I didn’t know—I had nothing to do with what you’re saying.”

“He didn’t know,” Khine droned. “So what do you know?”

“I told you—the cure…” The skin on his cheeks jiggled in his confusion.

“These effigies, these dummies, are full of the villagers’ blood,” I said, taking one step towards him. He backed away. “Blood that offers a connection to the agan, which allows a mage to control these things using the villagers as a source of energy. How do you think the villagers are going to react when they find out you’ve sold their souls in exchange for—what? What did they give you, Feng? Money to build that nice house? Promises of safety, maybe a nice cushy position away from this hellhole? Do you know how bad this is going to look if the empire finds out? Blood magic is outlawed.”

I heard applause—each clap loud and crisp as it bounced through the hollow halls.

“Excellent, my queen,” a voice called out. “Excellent. I didn’t expect less from you.”

The blood left my face. The voice was familiar—but not the sort of familiar that came with meeting a long-lost friend or even a friendly acquaintance. It was a sound that sent a chill through my bones, with a timbre that came from the depths of hell.

A figure appeared from the end of the hall. Distorted and misshapen, it ambled slowly towards us before stopping underneath a shaft of sunlight. It turned to me and grinned.

“Yuebek,” I said. I had not intended to speak it out as loudly as I did. I was hoping the word alone would break the dream and I would wake up panting back in an inn or the side of the road somewhere. But I could hear Khine’s shallow breathing behind me as he swore under his breath, which told me that he was seeing exactly what I was. I realized why Qun’s soldiers had stopped chasing us the moment we reached Phurywa and why he hadn’t killed me back in Anzhao. What was in front of me was real—somehow, despite my insistence, my worst fears had come true. Yuebek was alive, and I had walked into one of his traps yet again.

The grin on the figure’s face widened. “So,” he said. “You do care.”

“Fuck you,” I said, because that voice, his voice, was proof enough this wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a dream. I was staring at the bastard I was sure I had killed, the bastard whose body had swallowed the tip of my blade, who had squealed like a pig in a slaughterhouse before running straight into a fire that engulfed a whole chamber. Why wasn’t he dead? Had they updated the textbook on death, and somewhere along the way someone had failed to inform me?

But it was him. If I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears, then maybe I could listen to the terror that crawled up my skin. I could feel the cold sensation slithering past my pores, all the way down to the tips of my fingers. Of course he isn’t dead. Why did you think I chose him for you?

I didn’t know what part of him I should look at. He looked enough like the Yuebek I knew, the mad prince who had attempted to manipulate me over the past few months. It was the eyes—that fixed expression of sheer delight, as if he found everything about this situation amusing. I knew no one else who could seem so perpetually out of touch with reality as this man. If you could even call him a man anymore. Part of him was covered in burnt skin, all shades of black and flesh and purple. All of these were interspersed with a substance that appeared to be lumps of red clay, stuffed into holes, as if someone had hastily tried to fix him after he had been chewed up by a dog.

The rest of him—which included most of his forehead, the lower portion of his mouth, and the entire right side of his face—looked clean, untouched. He didn’t look like any of the burn victims I’d encountered before, where you could see the natural transition between scarred and uninjured flesh. Yuebek looked like an unfinished doll, and moved with all the jerky imprecision of one.

It would be pointless to ask how he had survived. He had; that was all that mattered. If Namra had used the agan to prevent me from succumbing to the featherstone, what more could a group of mages under control of a prince do? It probably didn’t hurt that he was a mage himself, too.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I said with a smile, counting on the calmness of my voice to carry me through the rest of the conversation while I made note of the quickest exits. The walls of the courtyard were very tall—could we climb over them? Could we break down the gates? If he attacked, could I use Feng as a shield?

“Explain this abomination.” Rai’s voice brought me crashing back to reality. I felt my palms begin to sweat. I had led Rai right into the heart of this mess.

Yuebek began to laugh. “This…” he said, shambling closer. From this distance, I noticed that the untainted parts of him were well-groomed—his beard was oiled and trimmed, and despite his horrendous appearance, he was dressed as befitting a prince. He peered at Rai, his eyes growing even wider. “The famous Prince Rayyel!” he exclaimed. “Son of Princess Ryia, the witch that was ever the thorn in Warlord Yeshin’s side. How excellent! They told me you had arrived with her, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

Unaware of his own awkward movements, he jerked himself into a bow. I stepped back, revulsion stirring in the back of my throat. Liquid was oozing out of the holes, along with globs of coagulated blood. The villagers…

“You have to forgive me,” he said, picking himself up. “I’m not at my best right now. The circumstances of our last…unfortunate meeting…” He casually dabbed at the liquid with a handkerchief, as if he were wiping away mere dots of sweat. “I’ve been in recuperation the past few months. Hiding out here, ahh—such glorious mountain air is good for the lungs. Especially ones as badly damaged as mine.”

“Good for you,” I said. I was still wondering if I should attack him or run. He would have other traps laid out for me.

“Good?” Yuebek replied. He took another step closer, and I could smell him now—a curious mixture of rotting flesh and moldy earth. My stomach curdled; I struggled to keep my senses. “I wonder if you think flattery will get you somewhere. I know how I look. Don’t worry—my mages do good work and they’re just getting started. You looked surprised. My mages—of course they’re mine. They’ve been mine for years. Consider this my summer home.”

“Well—” I struggled for anything coherent I could say. “It’s lovely. I’m sure the breeze is refreshing.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Rai broke in.

“Right,” I said. “Lord Rayyel, meet Prince Yuebek, Fifth Son of the Esteemed Emperor Yunan. I believe you are acquainted with the name, if not the man.”

Rai looked outraged. “This isn’t a prince,” he said. “This is an abomination.”

“I was going to get to that. We had, ah…what was it you said? An unfortunate meeting the last time?”

Yuebek nodded eagerly, oblivious to our insults. “The queen does know how to reject a man.”

“My lord husband is aware of your offer to me. We have also discussed how your involvement has resulted in the current state of affairs. So you can understand why neither of us looks particularly thrilled.” If I didn’t have years of training in diplomacy, I would’ve found it very hard to talk to him without spitting in his face.

“I see,” Yuebek said. “Did you tell him everything?”

“What does he mean?” Rayyel asked.

Yuebek turned to Rai. “I did ask the queen to set you aside and marry me.” His holes dripped fluid with every word. I was afraid his eyes would pop out and fall to the floor—I didn’t want to step on them while he was speaking. “Did she tell you why?”

“An army of twenty thousand,” I said. “I told you that’s not quite enough to sway me. My husband and I have obligations to fulfill.”

“So you didn’t tell him,” Yuebek said. Evidently, he found this hilarious, because he started laughing so hard I thought he was going to hack out a lung. Considering the way his body seemed to be assembled, it didn’t look impossible. He finally caught himself and grabbed for Rai’s shoulder.

Rai knocked his hand away before it could touch him. “You’ve got the nerve…” Rai began.

The grin fell from Yuebek’s face. “No. No, Lord Rayyel, though I shouldn’t even call you that, should I? You—a bastard.” He spat. “In this empire, we throw infants like you in the rivers. Or raise them as kennel boys and the only royal blood they’ll ever get to fuck is if they decide to do it with one of the hounds. Warlord Yeshin knew that. He never wanted her to marry you for that reason. Oh, he went through the whole pretence of the pact and your betrothal to buy himself some time, but did you really think Yeshin would’ve allowed your grubby hands on his precious daughter if he’d been around? He hated your mother. Hated her so much he would’ve strangled her with his own hands if he had ever been given the opportunity.” He lifted his finger and jabbed Rai in the chest so hard I expected the appendage to fall off. “I was promised to her first, bastard.”

Rai’s face tightened. “Explain this.” He wasn’t talking to Yuebek.

I wanted to tell him we didn’t have time for this. But that was the sort of thing that wouldn’t work with Rayyel. “He’s convinced my father had betrothed his unborn daughter—if she should be a daughter—to him during the War of the Wolves. My father wanted his mother’s help to get rid of yours. He says that Warlord Yeshin made this elaborate plan to remove you from the picture before our wedding so that I would marry him instead. But that somehow, it didn’t work, and so instead…” I lifted my eyes to meet my husband’s. “He infiltrated our plans to meet up in Anzhao City and orchestrated this farce that resulted in my men betraying me. In me being left all alone in this country so that he could swoop in and save me. He wanted me to be grateful for it, too.”

“Him,” Rai said evenly. “A Zarojo.” Even after hearing all of this, he remained calm.

“A Zarojo,” Yuebek repeated, “with royal blood. As detestable as I’m sure Warlord Yeshin found it—I am not blind to what he thought of the empire in those times—it was still vastly preferable to having his daughter given to a penniless bastard. I am the Esteemed Emperor Yunan’s trueborn son, with the blood of a long line of emperors running through me. You, on the other hand…didn’t your father peg your mother in the back of the stables during the war?”

Rai’s hand flew to his sword. I grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” I whispered. “He’s a mage.”

“He looks like he’s about to fall apart,” Rai said in a low voice.

“The queen is right, my lord,” Namra spoke up. “I can detect an enormous connection to the agan within him. It would be wise to avoid violence.”

Rai gritted his teeth. “Is this true, that this was Warlord Yeshin’s desire?”

“It’s not,” I said.

“I have proof.” Yuebek grinned.

“Choke on your proof. My father would’ve never lied to me.”

“Never? Such words, my lovely queen…and yet—Yeshin was never known for his honesty, was he?” He turned to Rai. “Step aside. Let me marry the queen and you can walk out of here alive. That’s all I want. It’s all I ever wanted. You are so unimportant that even your death would be more of an inconvenience than anything else.”

“This is insanity,” Rai whispered. “To think that we would just let Jin-Sayeng fall under Zarojo rule after we have narrowly avoided it for centuries…”

“Zarojo rule is inevitable,” Yuebek said. He drew away from us and began to glide back to the middle of the hall. “The way you both ran it to the ground, Jin-Sayeng is teetering on the edge of a war bloodier than what your mother—” He pointed at Rai before glancing back at me. “—and your father could have ever conceived. Queen Talyien, your people love wolves. Do you still have wolves in Jin-Sayeng? Didn’t your dragons pick them all out centuries ago?”

“You’re starting to bore me,” I said.

He giggled. “We have wolves. You know what they do, don’t you? They go after the weakest of the herd.” He curled his fingers and gnashed his teeth. “If the herd is Jin-Sayeng, who is the weak, the blind, and the cripple? Could it be any of your warlords, sitting in their castles and keeps while their soldiers sweat and train for the inevitable? Is it Dai alon gar Kaggawa, with his army of sellswords growing stronger by the day? Or could it be these two bedraggled figures before me: this lovesick queen and her bastard king?”

He extended his arms and snapped his fingers. I heard footsteps and saw hooded figures dragging two captives behind them. My heart leaped to my throat as the light revealed their faces.

“Your servants,” Yuebek said as his men pushed Agos and Nor to their knees. “Such loyalty. Such devotion. This one, in particular…” He grabbed Agos’s chin and stroked it. “Perhaps I was wrong about Rayyel. Wasn’t it this one’s cock that you prefer?”

I threw caution to the wind and lunged at him.

An unseen force smashed into my side, sending me sprawling across the floor. As I struggled to regain my balance, I turned and saw my guards on the ground, their hands clutched around their necks. Something was sliding its way out of their jaws. I realized, with horror, that it was snakes, exactly like in my dreams.

“Don’t worry,” I heard Yuebek whisper next to my ear, just as his death-stench hit me. “When I put a child in your belly, it won’t look like that.”

I smashed my elbow backwards. It caught Yuebek in the chest. I felt something begin to swallow my arm, which made me jump to the side in shock. There was a gaping hole on Yuebek’s body where I had hit him.

He looked down at it and smiled. “Still a work in progress,” he said. “In time, I will be whole again.”

“What are you?” I gasped.

“The sweetest dream,” he crooned. “Or your worst nightmare. It’s up to you.”

“Fuck you.”

“So you’ve said. 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 quickly when he wanted to. I missed him by a hair’s breadth. He laughed and clapped his hands, and the ground began to shake. The snakes wriggled out of my guards’ bodies completely; as soon as they were free, Agos and Nor turned white and crumbled 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, sending a spray of black liquid. The body 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.