CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE DRAGON-TOWER

If you are ever lucky enough to find yourself in the library in the Dragon Palace in Shirrokaru, make your way to the end of the first aisle, where you will find an entire shelf dedicated to dragon-towers. Maps of old locations, sketches, renderings of towers that were never built…it is an endless trove, one that fascinated me back in the days when I was a student there. I can still remember curling up in bed with those thick tomes, poring over the fading illustrations while the monsoon rain beat a steady rhythm outside the glass windows.

Back when they first kept dragons, it was common to have landing towers made out of logs lashed together. The decks were often painted with the local ruling clan’s symbol, which was visible from the air even in bad weather. As the years went on and the Jinsein clans started moving east, it became dangerous to keep the dragons in the rapidly growing cities. Some provinces solved this by banning dragons within city limits. Others, like Shirrokaru and Oren-yaro, began building the dragon-towers. The towers themselves kept the dragons away from the populace, but there remained the persistent problem of dragon-fire, which would build up inside a dragon’s belly and needed to be released every so often.

The solution was large stone wells built right into the towers, into which dragons were encouraged to release their flames on a set schedule. These wells led to a system of tunnels under the dragon-towers. The buildup of dragon-fire was so strong that people began connecting the tunnels to their stoves and bathhouses to make use of it. The inevitable result was the rise and prosperity of cities with dragon-towers. Shirrokaru invested most of this back into their own infrastructure. Oren-yaro, in the meantime, focused on building its army.

I didn’t mention to the Anyu brothers that I could tell it didn’t take them mere months to build this tower from scratch. I strongly suspected that had I made this trip when I was first invited, half the tower would’ve been erected already. The base was enormous, easily twice the size of the throne room in Oka Shto, and made of heavy white stone with a dull sheen. There was what appeared to be a dragon-fire well in the middle of the hall, covered with an iron grate. I resisted the impulse to peer through it. It was big enough to look like a prison, and if creatures lurked underneath the tunnels below, I didn’t want to know.

“This looks nothing like the old dragon-towers,” I said, looking up. From where I was, the ceiling looked like an enormous grey sky, lined with shadows that danced with the flickering torches. The doors closed behind us.

“An entirely new design,” Huan assured me. He gestured at the hall. “As mentioned, we built this partly for defense against the onslaught from the mountains. The old—and shall we say, diminutive—dragon-towers of the past were not equipped to deal with what we have now. This tower forms part of a wall that wraps around the mountain ridge beside Yu-yan. The dragons like to come from the northwest, using the ridge to drop right into the city.”

“If this was such a problem for you, why have you never alerted the council?” I asked. “We would’ve sent men to help you.”

“It’s because they don’t want to deal with it,” Lahei said in a low voice.

Huan smiled at her. “So you people like to say. The truth is less interesting, I’m afraid. Our father is a proud man, and he knows the other clans’ eyes are on him. We need to be able to stand on our own, to say that all of this was accomplished through hard work and resourcefulness—”

“—and thousands of lives…” Lahei droned.

Eikaro laughed. “I wouldn’t say thousands. We have lost workers. Progress has its price. We must all be willing to lay down our lives for the good of this nation.” He beckoned for me to continue walking.

“This stone…” I started. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“It was cheaper to import from Cael,” Huan said. “If there was anything the Ikessars did right, it was to open trade with the Kags.”

“Can it resist dragon-fire?”

“Our builders assure us it will.”

“On pain of death, I suppose.”

Huan gave me a soft smile before tugging at the thin moustache over his lip. “Do you think so poorly of us? May I remind you that one of your own laws prohibits the mistreatment of trades- and craftsmen. Your wish was that they be allowed to practice without fear of a warlord’s wrath.”

“Of course.” It was one of Magister Arro’s proposals, actually, which he drafted and left in my study after five builders lost their heads in Kyo-orashi. There had been an accident that wasn’t entirely their fault—the design of a platform they built prohibited more than fifty people on it at one time. Warlord San, for some reason, decided that if he could squeeze twice that number onto it, it would still work. It didn’t; ten festival-goers dropped into the gaping chasm of the sea below. Warlord San killed the builders in response.

I found myself wondering what Khine would’ve thought about all of this. You could find much truth in the idea that I relished Khine’s company because it filled the void Arro left behind. I saw Cho scowling at the gleaming floor and made the split-second decision to hold on to that belief.

We came up to the end of the hall. Here, the ceiling shot straight up to the top of the tower, giving me a glimpse of every level. A set of stairs started from each side of us, long and wide. Two women came down to meet us as we arrived. “May I present our wives, Grana and Tori,” Huan said.

The women bowed. They were quite unlike many of the royal wives I had met over the years, forgoing face paint and silk dresses in favour of trousers and short-sleeved tunics, better suited for the more humid weather in the west. They had daggers on their belts, and the one Huan had introduced as his wife, Grana, was holding a spear taller than she was. The one called Tori wasn’t, but she was also heavy with child—I judged her close to being seven, maybe eight months’ pregnant. How long had I been away?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Queen Talyien,” Grana said with a sweeping bow. Her skin had the complexion of sun-baked clay. “We’ve heard so much about you, but we’ve never met before, to our misfortune.”

“You’re twins, too, aren’t you?” I asked.

Both women laughed. “Ah. You can see our fatal attraction to these brothers, then.”

“We met these sisters on a trip to Kyo-orashi,” Huan said. “Daughters of an aren dar Ishi, so I trust the marriage is to the Beloved Queen’s approval.”

“Ishi is an old, noble clan. Your ancestral home is in the southwest islands, isn’t it?”

Grana nodded. “You flatter us with your knowledge, Beloved Queen. We are a simple folk who subsist on fishing and silk farms, nothing like the grace of you eastern royals.”

“We are but fingers in a hand,” I quoted from Kibouri, which made Lahei roll her eyes. I gave her a small grin before turning my attention back to the sisters. “Knowing these two, you met at Kyo-orashi for one of Warlord San’s festivities?”

“For the opening of his arena, actually,” Huan said, folding his arms.

“The last time I remember, that was still in the planning stage. Much has certainly happened while I was missing and possibly dead.”

Grana laughed. “You have no idea, Beloved Queen. Shall we talk about it while we continue this tour?”

“Please do. I’d given up hope that someone would say that in the three or four days since I returned.”

Neither Grana nor Tori gave me anything in the way of news. Gossip was the closest thing you could call it; for the next hour or so, I was treated to every marriage, birth, and scandal that happened from one end of the kingdom to another. For simple folk who subsisted on fishing and silk, they were well-informed. It was difficult to pay attention to everything they told me, though I tried to keep what seemed most important in the back of my mind.

They also showed me the rest of the dragon-tower. There wasn’t much to it at the moment—each level was empty hall after empty hall. We reached the top, which opened up to a railed platform just like the old dragon-towers. The symbol of the Anyu clan was painted in bright red in the middle: a brace of oxen attached to a yoke. I stared at it for half a second before tucking my arms together against the sudden breeze.

“Enlighten me, my queen,” I heard Grana say behind me.

I craned my head towards her. “I’m sorry?”

“You are the last direct Orenar, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Your son carries the Ikessar name, yet Lord Rayyel is not a true direct Ikessar. Should your son not be an Orenar instead? It makes more sense to preserve that lineage.”

“My father would have preferred that,” I agreed. “As the old ways would, I’m sure. Lord Rayyel himself is an Ikessar when his father was not—his motherline, the royal line, takes precedence. But our royal traditions are too intertwined with Zarojo ways, and theirs prioritize the father’s name. In a case where both are equal…I suppose we cede the battles we don’t want to fight.”

“How unfortunate. Your line dies with you, anyway.”

I didn’t answer. Inwardly, the conversation had made me aware of the fallacy of my situation—that my father would’ve never been content with the marriage arrangement if it meant his name would simply dissolve with the Ikessars. How could it have been anything but false? He wanted to win his war, not simply have the pretence of winning it only for the land to later return to Ikessar rule anyway. I stared down at the city and the flickering lights below.

“If it’s not something you’re comfortable discussing, my queen…”

“No,” I agreed. “It isn’t. You’re aware of the unpredictable nature of my relationship with my husband, of course.”

She bowed. “I will not ask further.”

Huan drew close to us. “Is there a problem, Beloved Queen?”

I shook my head. “A simple misunderstanding.”

“Did you bring up Prince Rayyel? Gods, please tell me you didn’t bring up Prince Rayyel, she hates it when you do that,” Huan said, which caused Grana to stick an elbow into his ribs.

“Nothing of that sort,” I replied. “I shouldn’t say this but—Lord Rayyel and I did find the opportunity to talk while I was away.”

Huan’s nostrils flared as he gazed at me. “What will happen now?”

“My understanding is that he wishes for us to set our priorities straight and rule together. You told me you’ve heard of no news about my son in Oren-yaro, but have you come across rumours? Anything that seems amiss?”

“No. My apologies, my queen.”

“It just seems so strange,” I said. “You knew I was here even before we could send word to you, yet my own people seem blissfully unaware. They should’ve sent an escort, at least.”

Huan smiled. “It does take time to travel from Oren-yaro to the Sougen region, Beloved Queen, barring difficulties.”

“I suppose.” I nodded towards the chunk of mountain staring at us from the platform. “Tell me about this plan of yours to tame dragons. To hear you admit this with your own lips seem almost…foolhardy. You’re aware of what the court will think of this.”

“Indeed, Beloved Queen. You could even call it insanity, if you wish.” He pointed. I strained my eyes to follow the direction of his finger and saw a faint movement in the mountains in the horizon, a quick flash of shadow that was soon gone into the trees. “These dragons are not the same as the dragons of old. We’ve tried to capture some over the years in an attempt to study them, so we know exactly what we’re up against.”

“If I call Lahei over to us right now, will she agree?”

Huan laughed. “Of course she won’t. The Kaggawas are stubborn, I can give you that much. You should’ve seen Dai foaming at the mouth when we had that first dragon caged and chained. A tiny thing, no bigger than most dogs, yet you would think we had an army in our hands. Kaggawa’s family has suffered much because of Rysaran’s dragon.”

“No less than others. My brothers were killed by that very beast,” I reminded him.

“More apologies, Beloved Queen. I did not intend disrespect. The land will always remember your beloved brothers’ sacrifice.”

I brushed it off with a wave. “So what makes you think they’re not as mad as Kaggawa believes they are?”

“The dragons are not afflicted with madness at all. Whatever it is that makes them difficult to tame can be…fixed. We think we have stumbled upon a procedure that will make this possible. Once that first dragon is tamed, others are sure to follow.”

“This procedure,” I said. “Does it have anything to do with mages and the agan?”

Huan didn’t answer. He leaned over the rails, his eyes gazing back at the horizon, where the setting sun bathed the ridge in orange light. “Such accusations coming from the sort of man Dai Kaggawa is…I shouldn’t be surprised. Forgive me, my queen—I know the east frowns on talk such as this, but the reality in this region is more complex than I think you’re ready to deal with.”

“Try me,” I said.

“Now, my love, let’s not scare the queen,” Grana broke in.

“I’m not trying to scare her…” Huan began.

“Akaterru, if the both of you say something about my sensitive ears, I’ll throw you over the rails. I said both mage and agan and didn’t burst into flames. So.” I fixed my eye on Huan. “What about Dai Kaggawa?”

“He’s an abomination,” Huan said in a low voice. “A foul thing that doesn’t belong in this world.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, brother,” Eikaro broke in. “I know we don’t like him, and he’s made our life difficult just like every other merchant in this accursed province, but—”

He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth falling open. It had grown dark all of a sudden. It took a full second for me to grasp why. There was a dragon right above us. A dragon with its mouth wide open, close enough that I could count its teeth if I wanted to. A dragon.

“Run!” someone screamed. I couldn’t tell who. But there was nowhere to run. The darkness continued to settle in as its enormous shadow covered the tower. The air grew cold and goosebumps prickled my skin. To see a dragon but feel nothing but winter’s kiss was disconcerting. I watched it glide over us in silence, muscles rippling under its charcoal-black scales, wondering if it would simply pass us by. I held my breath, my fingers tightening around my sword hilt, and willed it to leave us alone.

It circled.

No, I found myself thinking. No. Go away. Go—

It roared, letting a blast of flame that tore through two scaffoldings at once. The sudden, searing heat felt as if I was wrapped in a burning blanket. I threw myself backwards, trying to avoid the sensation, even as I felt it enter my lungs and crawl up my eyeballs like a sharpened knife. I managed to wedge myself between two stacks of crates. Two soldiers behind me weren’t so lucky. One burned to a crisp right in front of my eyes; the other jumped off the tower behind the dragon’s snapping jaws to his death.

Through the sudden explosion of smoke and cinders, the creature landed on the edge of the tower platform.

I had never seen a full-grown dragon before. The one that had attacked me and Rayyel in our youth was about the size of a horse, and it had proven dangerous enough. This one was three times that, maybe more. Its scaly head was crested with spikes, and its mouth ended at a point, almost like a bird’s beak. When it opened, I saw two rows of sharp teeth and a tongue that could easily knock a full-grown man to the ground.

That was as much observation as I allowed myself. The dragon pulled its head back. Cho was very close to it, and I screamed at him to duck. He dropped to his knees just in time. A smaller flame blasted through the air, setting a third scaffolding ablaze. I watched in horror as it toppled towards the hatch that would take us back into the tower.

Burning logs crashed above our only escape.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Lahei emerged from behind the debris to charge the beast. Stirred to action by her courage, I drew my sword and approached the dragon from the other side. It swung its head to face me, lips curled into a silent growl. The membrane around its throat vibrated as it regarded me with narrowed yellow eyes. I felt myself transported back to my childhood, facing that dragon in the woods in Oka Shto. The fear was the same, that odd sense of helplessness that nothing I was about to do in the next instance was going to matter very much. If it wanted to fling me off the cliff, it could.

I tried to take a deep breath, which I immediately realized was a mistake—the hot air scalded my lungs, almost as if I had breathed fire itself. As I struggled to catch a gulp of fresh air, I stepped aside in time to avoid its snapping jaws. I began to cough.

“Watch out!” Lahei screamed as the dragon’s tail swung through the air.

It struck me in the belly, sending me backwards. I managed to land on my feet. I heard a rumble above and lifted my sword just as the dragon’s jaws came down like a flurry of arrows. Teeth met steel. The dragon snapped its mouth shut, hot breath steaming through its nostrils; I refused to let go of the hilt even as the dragon renewed its assault, twisting the blade into the gap between its teeth.

Blood dripped down its jaw as I managed to cut into its gums. I screamed and twisted the sword again, my arms straining from the effort. The dragon flicked its tongue out in an attempt to wrench the steel loose. A bubble of fire appeared inside its mouth and I stepped to the side just in time to avoid another blast of fire. I realized that the dragon was losing breath—the flame wasn’t as strong as before and the sac underneath its throat jerked up and down rapidly, like a drunk attempting to heave on an empty stomach.

It swung its head towards me and I kicked at the enormous snout, managing to pull the sword out in one swift motion. The dragon reeled back, spitting out slimy trails of blood—every exhale sent more drops spraying through the air. As it danced on the platform, I grabbed a protruding scale and heaved myself up its leg. I made a quick leap for the membrane under its neck, hoping I could end this with one quick stab.

It struck me with the damn tail again.

Black sparks shattered my vision. I flung my arms out to hold steady, but the force sent me flying halfway across the tower. I hit the far end of the rail, falling into a pile of hot ash and burning splinters.

Blood rushed into my head and down my nostrils, mingling with the dust and soot. I felt like I was breathing boiling mud. I wiped my mouth, fighting against the sudden urge to sleep. I couldn’t even close my eyes. If I blacked out now, I knew I’d be dead. If I died, my son would die, too. I couldn’t die. I wasn’t allowed to die.

I grabbed the iron rail with one hand and pulled myself up. My insides felt like glass. I forced my eyes to focus.

In the distance, Lahei and Grana held the dragon at bay. It was still huffing from the cut in its mouth, distraction enough to have given the women time to gain the upper hand. Grana’s spear was lodged between the scales behind its neck.

“Now, Kaggawa!” Grana called.

Lahei reached for the spear, clinging to the dragon like a monkey. It dawned on me what they were trying to do. I called for her to stop just as she reached up to swing herself onto the dragon’s back. But before she landed, the dragon curled to one side and spread its wings, knocking her backwards. Lahei managed to hold on to the end of the wing and tried to drop back to the ground.

The dragon grabbed her leg. I thought I heard a bone snap.

She let out a scream as the dragon held her upside down, one that turned into a roar halfway through, as if the shock of pain had awakened her and transformed agony into rage. Somehow, she managed to pull the grass-cutter from her belt. Her arms were shaking as she tried to swing the blade, even as she was being kept alive by the strip of what remained of her leg—even as the blood streamed down her body, she was going for the dragon’s eye.

I found myself racing back down towards them, but it was too late. The dragon chomped down before Lahei’s blade could sink under its scales. Blood exploded in its mouth before it let go. There was a moment of silence, and then Lahei fell from the tower like a rock. I didn’t even see her face before she disappeared into the mist below.

There was no time to look for her, no time to mourn. The dragon leaped towards Tori, who had been trying to keep away in vain, her arms wrapped around the delicate swell of her belly and the child that lay within it. Grana rushed in to protect her sister. She was slapped aside by the dragon’s tail and tumbled through the soot, barely avoiding getting stabbed by her own spear. I bent down to pick her up and heard Cho scream from the other end of the tower.

“Choke on this, you ass!” Cho hurled a piece of lumber at the beast, sending it spinning past the dragon’s brow. The distraction gave him time to reach Tori and draw his sword. He looked terrified, but that didn’t seem to make him want to back down. The dragon pulled its head back, and I saw a flash of orange between its lips.

“Watch for the fire, Cho!” I called.

Cho snorted. The dragon flamed. He grabbed Tori’s shoulder, pulling her down.

Eikaro chose that time to repeat Lahei’s mistake. Or perhaps I shouldn’t call it that—he managed to launch himself at the dragon fast enough, and then ducked when the dragon tried to pull the same trick on him. The dragon hissed and tried to bash him away with the other wing, but he managed to clamber up its back. Enraged, the creature began beating its wings in an attempt to throw him off. Eikaro reached down to yank the spear free and wrapped it under the dragon’s throat like a collar to keep himself seated.

The dragon roared, sending another tendril of flame gasping into the wind. A moment later, it spread its wings and launched itself into the choking black smoke. Another second, and then it was gone. So was Eikaro.

I heard Huan’s cry as he awakened from what seemed to be a stupor. He threw himself at the hatch, hands digging through the debris in an attempt to find the handle. The flames had died down, but the embers were still red-hot. I could see his face contorted with pain, the sweat pouring rivulets down his soot-stained cheeks, but he didn’t stop. Cho rushed forward to help him. Eventually, there was a creaking sound as someone pushed the hatch open from below. The movement dislodged more of the debris, creating a gap big enough for a body to squeeze through. Huan dropped down, Cho right behind him. I gazed out at the railing where Lahei had gone over before rushing off to follow them.

The entire tower was in chaos. Huan screamed for horses, and when the soldiers arrived with them, I swung onto a saddle without a word. The fourth floor of the dragon-tower had gates that opened up to a bridge that crossed the chasm to the ridge. In no time at all, we were riding through the woods, swords drawn while we searched the skies for the dragon that took Huan’s twin brother away.

Blood pounded in my head. I was so focused on the beast that my body wasn’t even shaking yet, and I could feel no pain from my injuries. My mind did drift back to a single thought—that I had encountered dragons thrice now, and lived to tell the tale. I even fought it myself this time. Something about that called from the abyss. I survived. For all that my father had deemed me unworthy, I remained Dragonlord of this land.

I thought of my brothers. Had they even stood a chance? When I was a child, stories of my brothers were like fairy tales. My father didn’t talk as much about them as I would’ve liked, so I subsisted on whatever the servants could offer behind his back. They were well-liked in the old keep—polite, brave, dutiful, true examples of the Oren-yaro spirit. But I didn’t think the servants could’ve said anything less of them, especially not where I could hear it. Had they been caricatures, a false construct intended for me to model my own behaviour after? Meaningless tenets. My only true glimpse of how they might have been had been of that ghost in Yuebek’s dungeon. Perhaps it was a trick of Yuebek’s, but the phantom of my father had been accurate enough, so I could pretend the one I saw of Taraji—of the charming, bright-eyed young man—was also true. Rysaran’s dragon had taken that man away from me.

These are the things you tell yourself, you understand, looking back. To make sense out of mistakes, the image behind spilled ink. In the haze of my confusion, my father’s voice cut through like a whip. Show me your worth. Let him die. You are queen of Jin-Sayeng—it is not your job to fix their foolishness. You’ve done your part. You already fought. Pretend to help, then turn back and ask for theirs. Use their pain, their suffering, and twist it to serve your needs. A dog, Kaggawa had called me, no better than the rest of them. A dog trained to the pantomime of a dead master.

My horse reared to a stop as we reached the end of the road. Dirt and gravel were piled everywhere, surrounded by wheelbarrows and shovels from where workmen had left them for the evening. After the confusion of the attack, the silence was deafening—like the moment after the last bell of a funeral, before the pyre is lit. Huan looked at the sky with dismay on his face. “No,” he murmured under his breath. The anger exploded. “No! Why wasn’t anyone keeping watch? You were supposed to—on the walls…!” He dismounted from his horse. One of his men followed him, and he turned and grabbed him by the collar.

“My lord,” the man said. “It came out of nowhere. It must’ve seen you on the platform…there should’ve been guards there, bowmen, but it wasn’t finished yet…”

He pushed the man away and caught my eye. “What should I do?” he gasped.

“You’re asking me?”

His face was all white, a shell of the man who had been laughing and talking with me not even an hour before. “You’re the queen,” he murmured. “Tell me. Please.”

I realized he wasn’t asking about strategies or politics. The prelude to grief was in his eyes, like he was on the precipice and was looking for a push. But why me? Because I had lost brothers? I didn’t even know their names until after they were dead. Raw grief was not something I was familiar with.

I sucked my breath in.

Use them. You have him. He will agree to anything you say. You can rid yourself of that commoner’s blade at your back. Tell him to ride with you to Oren-yaro to save your son, and agree to reward him with anything he asks.

“We’re not giving up on him,” I said.

Huan stared in the distance, his eyes red.

“What do you know about these dragons? Where do they lair? Think, Lord Huan. Your brother’s survival depends on it.”

“Further up the mountains,” Huan replied doubtfully. “If he even makes it all the way there, if the dragon doesn’t pull him off like it did Kaggawa…”

“Just stop thinking.” I glanced at Huan’s man, who was waiting for us with a measure of uncertainty. “Have you seen this dragon before?”

“I think it’s the same one that’s been wandering the western wall the last few weeks,” the man said. “A big male.”

“Any idea where it could have taken Lord Eikaro?”

The man gave Huan a wary glance before answering. “There’re caverns along the eastern side of the ridge where we think a few dragons have made dens. If it doesn’t eat him mid-air, it might’ve taken him back for its brood to feed on. My lord,” he continued, returning his gaze to his master. “He may still be alive. The dragon hatchlings might be asleep, or…”

“I dare not hope,” Huan murmured. “Even after decades of living so close to them, we know too little about these creatures.”

“He said the caverns are east.” I reined the horse around and pointed at one of the men. “I need a spear. A few of us can make our way there. Too many may attract more.”

“One is enough to attract the dragons,” Huan said.

A man reached up to hand me his spear. I hefted it into my right hand, testing it.

“You’re mad,” Huan whispered.

“I’m angry,” I said. “Weren’t you just telling me about wanting to tame these things?”

“We were hoping to start them young…hatchlings…”

“Lord Huan, have you never ridden this far before?”

He swallowed. The truth was clear enough in his eyes. All his talk, and it was his men taking the brunt of these attacks. I tried to erase the image of the list Dai had showed me from my mind. “You’ll come with me, then,” I said. “Show your men how it’s done.”

He ran a hand over his lips. “My queen, it is extremely dangerous. The last scouting party we sent never returned.”

“That was the middle of the mating season,” Huan’s man broke in. “They’re more aggressive, then. It’s the hatching season now—they’ll want to stay close to their nests.”

“Even better. Lord Huan…” I lifted the spear and pointed it at him. “You asked for my orders. I’m giving them now. We’re heading to the dragon’s den to find your brother.”

To his credit, he didn’t turn away. “As the queen wishes.” He was starting to shake with fear, but fear was better than cowardice, as I knew all too well. I grunted in approval when he returned to his saddle, though he fumbled a bit with the stirrups and looked for a moment like he would fall off. A man came up to hand him a spear. He picked it up with the hesitation of someone who wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“We’ll take Cho and you,” I said, nodding towards Huan’s man. “What’s your name and title?”

“Captain Seo, Beloved Queen.”

“Pick two of your best men.”

He nodded and gestured at them. They urged their horses forward while the rest fell back.

“It’ll be dark soon,” Huan commented.

My breath whistled through gritted teeth. “Then we don’t have a moment to lose.”