CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE PRICE OF LOYALTY

The Lady Talyien fought bravely!” San called out. “I think none here will dare contest that. She faced an attack head-on, bearing the dragon’s savagery on her body, and yet she still stands.”

The crowd cheered. Behind me, the dragon hissed as it tried to claw its way through the bars.

“But shall we let her fight on?” he continued. “She is tired, she is injured, and she is more than horribly outmatched. Is a warlord ever expected to fight alone? Is he not supposed to have blades at his side—guards to protect him, soldiers to die with him?” Now he faced the audience, holding his hands up in the air. “Is there anyone willing to face the dragon as the lady of Oren-yaro’s champion?”

The crowd began to clap—not the torrent of applause, but a low, steady clap, like the pounding of battle drums. Someone was walking towards the royals’ platform. San dropped one hand, holding the other out, and the crowd fell silent.

“I’ll do it,” the figure said.

A wave of anguish tore through me as I recognized Khine’s voice.

“A brave, loyal servant.” San didn’t even sound surprised. “You’ll fight for this woman? You could die out there.”

Khine turned his head. I almost caught sight of his smug smirk. “No better death than to die for her.”

Qun looked outraged as the crowd began to cheer, though he remained glued to his seat. I realized what Warlord San had done—what he and Khine were both doing. Throwing me at the dragon had never been the plan. It was a trap—they only wanted it to look like I meant to fight it before stopping me at the last moment. And then…

“You fucking idiot!” I yelled in Zirano. I didn’t know if he heard me. I started to walk back towards the platform, but more bars appeared around me, caging me like a rat in the middle of the arena.

Khine clambered down from the platform and marched across the field. There was a spear in his hand—a glaive, really, heavier than the ones I had picked—and a look of grim determination on his face. “You’re struggling to hold that weapon properly. Stop flattering yourself,” I snarled as he walked past me. “You can’t even face Agos without splitting your head open!”

“Exactly why I think I’ll survive this,” Khine replied. “Agos, dragon, what’s the difference?”

“Go back there now. Of the two of us, I’m the one more likely to get out of this alive.”

“Considering you’re all chewed up—”

“You’re going to get chewed up a lot faster.”

“I’m touched by your concern, my queen. I’ll cherish it to the grave.”

“This isn’t a joke!” I reached through the bars to grab his elbow.

Khine’s expression softened. “I am a starving con artist from Shang Azi. What value does my life have compared with yours? What you are, what you can accomplish—”

“Don’t talk like everyone else,” I hissed. “You’re the one who’s been lecturing me about lives having the same weight this whole time. You—”

“We assign value to lives whichever way we want. To a mother, her own child’s life is easily worth hundreds. My own life, to yours?” He placed a hand over mine. “Consider me a soldier willing to give it all up for his liege lord. They certainly will.” He jerked his head over to the crowd.

I refused to let go of his arm. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that. But if you want it that way, then we’ll do it that way—I order you to go back.”

His eyes crinkled. “Like you said.” And then, taking my hand in his, he lifted it up and kissed it.

Even knowing it was all an elaborate act, that he was mimicking the highest Jinsein gesture of respect, I felt the heat creep up my cheeks. It was only slightly less distracting than that gnawing irritation over what he had done. He pulled away from me and held his spear aloft, signalling to Warlord San. An idiot, through and through. If his sisters were here, they would’ve gone into hysterics.

The gong sounded. A portion of the bars separating us from the dragon dropped. I was still caged, but Khine was now free to approach it.

The irritation turned to fear. Real, tangible fear, the sort I didn’t realize I could experience in my life. Even fighting our way through Yuebek’s dolls had been straightforward next to this. Here, I was suddenly a helpless spectator, watching a man I had come to care for—a man who loved me, for all the uncertainty that knowledge created—about to face a dragon on my behalf. I had known girls who longed for such things, who would swoon over such a passionate act. I might have once been one of them. But the selfishness of the notion struck me now. This was not the rose-tinted atmosphere of a dream. Everything about this—the smell of blood in the air, my racing heart, the feel of the ground disappearing from under my feet—came straight out of a nightmare.

The dragon charged.

Khine moved faster than I had given him credit for. Everything that had led up to this moment may have been fabricated, but the look of concentration on his face now seemed real enough. He stepped to the side, keeping the dragon’s jaws away from him with the tip of his glaive. The dragon stared back at him, throat membranes quivering.

They circled each other until Khine found himself with his back to the wall. With a sudden spark of intelligence, the dragon chose this moment to lunge a second time. Khine managed to avoid him again—the dragon smashed into the wall, cracking it slightly. The dragon recovered quickly, pushing up against the stone to chase after Khine.

It turned not into a battle, but a game. The prospect of attack never even seemed to enter Khine’s mind. He fell into trying to avoid getting ripped apart in the first place—the dragon gave no quarter, and was now almost relentless in his pursuit compared with how he had been with me. It was small comfort. I didn’t want to see Eikaro killed, but neither did I want him spared in exchange for Khine’s life.

They reached the far corner of the arena, where I could hardly see what was happening. But then I heard the crowd give out a cry. I dashed to the edge of my cage and caught a glimpse of the dragon’s jaws around Khine’s weapon. The thicker, stronger shaft of the glaive seemed like it was holding up to the dragon’s assault.

The dragon’s tail curled back. A memory of the attacks on the Yu-yan ridge returned to me. I called out in warning, but Khine was too far away to hear.

It caught him by the ankles. Khine dropped his weapon. The dragon flung the glaive away and pounced on him. There was a crunching sound as he attempted to tear Khine’s arm off. The blood drained from my face.

Khine reached down to his belt and pulled out a dagger, striking the dragon’s nose. The dragon reared back, sending a short blast of flame into the air. Khine rolled away, a ragged line of flesh and torn clothing along his left arm. He dropped the dagger and drew his sword. He was having trouble keeping it steady.

The injury hardly seemed to faze the dragon. He advanced on Khine once more, huffing as the blood bubbled around his nostrils. The crowd was beginning another rhythmic chanting. To them, Khine was nothing but a sacrificial lamb, a pawn for their entertainment. Warlord Graiyo had been right, after all—it was just a show. A man dies for his queen and Warlord San gets to parade the gods-ordained Dragonlord for all to see. Khine would have known all of this, yet that didn’t stop him. And now, standing there in front of the dragon while bleeding half to death, he had yet to turn tail and run.

“Warlord San!” I called out, turning back to the platform. “Enough of this! This was my battle from the beginning!”

“The man volunteered, Lady Talyien,” San replied. He never even looked at me—he remained addressing the crowd.

I roared and smashed my sword against the bars. The sound of steel on iron clattered inside my ears.

“If he dies and I live to return to my throne,” I thundered, “I will see to it your head decorates the garden fountain in Oka Shto. You have my word.”

“Your father had no taste. It’s a despicable fountain. My head would be an improvement.”

I struck the bars again with such force that they sparked.

The crowd fell silent. Up ahead, Khine was hiding along a stone platform while the dragon tried to smash its way towards him. The fear became a gaping well in my stomach. I renewed my attack on the bars.

What people liked to call battle lust my father had a different term for. He called it desperation.

He liked to say that people who went into battle looking to win never really stay too long. Perhaps you cut down one or two easy opponents, but sooner or later you are confronted with someone bigger, someone with a larger sword or axe that could cleave you in half with one blow. You’d be a fool not to see your own mortality then. “Mind you,” he’d add, chuckling, “these fools do exist. You can spot them from across the field, hesitating, as if the wave of the battle is up to them and if they decided not to join after all everything would just go away. Walking dead men—they’re the easiest to kill.”

You had to pull yourself back, Yeshin told me, and fight to live for the next moment. You didn’t swing your sword to win a war. You cleaved your way into a seemingly impenetrable barrier of bodies because if you didn’t, you’d be the one killed. So you see these brave warriors rushing off into a battle like they ate iron for breakfast and shat steel in the night, but most of them, Yeshin believed, did it out of fear. They did it to survive, because they had no choice. There were the rare one or two exceptions—madmen who killed for the thrill of it, who enjoyed the rush of bodies breaking underneath them—but my father liked to simplify things for my sake.

“Feed on your own desperation, if you must,” he said. “The Oren-yaro understand this more than most. Some fight for glory, others fight for honour and justice, but we fight for the sake of the fight. We do not fight for duty—the fight is our duty. It is how we seem to win these impossible battles. Every armour has a chink. Beat at it long enough, it’ll break.”

My fingers were bleeding from the spray of metal and my sword was starting to chip, but I continued battering at the bars. They were starting to rattle.

Behind me, I heard the dragon strike the platform. The ground trembled.

One of the bars broke loose. I shoved my body into the gap, ignoring the pain of my mangled shoulder as I squeezed through.

The blasted gong, and then a trumpet.

From the far end of the arena, the doors opened. Two men, both armed with spears and shields, strode in. I immediately recognized Agos’s burly form. The other was unfamiliar at first, until I saw his eyes from underneath his helmet. It was Lord Huan aren dar Anyu.

They rushed the dragon almost immediately.

They must’ve discussed some sort of strategy beforehand, because their movement was precise, calculated—the advantage of men trained in the army. Agos reached Khine first, blocking the dragon’s next assault with his shield before jabbing him in the jaw. When the dragon tried to strike him with his tail, Huan stabbed him through the scales near his leg.

Blood spurted from the wound. The dragon swung his head to strike. His teeth snapped a hair’s breadth from Huan’s face. The dragon opened his eyes.

The blackness receded.

I wasn’t sure what happened next, exactly. Myar had spoken of becoming a mindless monster if a soul that did not belong to a body tried to steal it for its own. But there was clearly more to it than that. Whatever the reason, I felt Eikaro’s presence flare up like a lit torch.

Brother, he called out.

Huan tried to stab him a second time. He lumbered backwards, blood pouring from his wounds. I remembered that I was the only one who could hear him.

My mind began to race through my options. There was no time to tell Huan about his brother, and even if I did, it wasn’t a guarantee that Eikaro would remain in control of himself. I spotted the chain that kept the dragon tethered to the arena and followed it all the way down to an anchor in the floor.

As Huan continued his assault, I dove for the anchor. The lock holding the chain in place was already bent from the dragon’s attempt to escape earlier. I jabbed my sword into the mechanism and kicked. It shattered.

“Fly, my lord!” I screamed as Huan’s sword flashed through the air.

Eikaro listened. He reared, his wings knocking Huan back a step, and then he shot straight into the ceiling. One sharp intake of air, one quick blast of fire, and he tore a hole through the roof and ruptured his way to freedom.

I didn’t pay attention to how the crowd reacted to all of this. My first and only thought was Khine. I rushed to his side. He was gasping for breath and didn’t respond when I spoke his name. “Just like the fucker to try to get himself killed behind my back,” Agos fumed. “Didn’t even think to tell me. Serves you right, you son of a bitch.”

I ignored him, tearing the sleeve from my shirt to hold the flesh in Khine’s arm in place to stop the bleeding. “Are we done here?” I said, turning to Huan.

Huan was staring at the distance, where Warlord San still stood. I don’t even think the battle had gone on long enough for him to return to his seat. “You heard Lady Talyien,” Huan called out. “Have we won her freedom?”

“The dragon isn’t dead,” Warlord San replied.

“You want to go get it?” I cried. “Be my guest!”

San visibly hesitated. He hadn’t thought things through, not this far. His silence turned the anger red-hot inside of me, lending it a life of its own. I found myself walking towards the gates where Eikaro had come from. “Open them!” I screamed at the guards.

They didn’t move. They looked confused.

“I am the lady of Oren-yaro,” I reminded them with a snarl. “I order you to open them now.”

That did the trick. They scrambled to turn the winch and lift the gate. I ducked under before it was even fully raised, making my way down a hall with a stench that stung my nose—animal urine and droppings, old and new. Further down, I encountered cages, where gaunt wolves snarled and wild boar shrieked loud enough to wake the dead.

I found the other dragon chained inside a room at the far end. It held the expression of a creature begging for its death. For a moment, I wondered if there was even a corrupt soul in this one, or if its horrendous circumstances had forced the creature to flee. One way or another, it was too far gone.

I remembered that I had ruined my sword and reached out to grab the closest guard by the collar in order to draw his. I pushed him away, turned back to the dragon, and killed it in one stroke. Its body was so weak that it didn’t even resist. Once it lay limp on the sparse bed of hay, I hacked its limbs loose from the chains and dragged it out to the arena, leaving behind a thick trail of blood with every step.

I emerged from the darkness with the dragon’s body. “I promised you one dead dragon,” I snarled, flinging the carcass before them.

I saw Qun get up to walk away from his seat just as the crowd erupted with applause.

I was removed from the arena and taken straight to the guest quarters, where I learned that my injuries were a lot worse than I thought they were. A healer appeared to bleed the puncture wounds while Huan explained that dragons’ teeth—while not venomous—were dirty and bite wounds could cause a nasty infection if left uncleaned.

His words were all garbled, but I didn’t care about all of that. “Where did you take Lamang?” I asked.

The healer turned to Huan for confirmation.

“He’s with the chief surgeon,” Huan answered for him. “They’re going to try their best. Apparently, he lost too much blood.”

“They’re going to try their best?” I repeated, growling as the healer stabbed me with a needle. “Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t trust Jinsein healers.”

“With all due respect, Lady Talyien,” the healer said. “We’re Zarojo-trained.”

“The sparse fuzz on your lip tells me your knowledge was acquired secondhand.”

The healer coloured. “The surgeon trained me himself, and he had the honour of travelling to Anzhao City in his youth for his education. He’s a member of the Zarojo Physicians’ Guild. Your guardsman is in capable hands.”

“Old, rheumy hands from the sound of it,” I grumbled. “And he’s not my guardsman. You people have to stop it with the bloody guardsmen. It stopped being funny years ago.”

“Your temper is getting ahead of you, my lady,” San broke in. He appeared at the door, a wide grin on his face. “What a spectacular scene. I couldn’t have orchestrated a better show myself.”

I fixed him with a glare. “You bastard. Our lives for your little show—”

“You knew full well what you were walking into.”

“Me. Alone.”

“We made the decision to fight for you,” Agos said. He had been standing in the corner with his arms crossed. “Bit too late, honestly, since Lamang tried to steal the honour himself, the rat bastard.”

“Explain yourselves a bit better. I can’t hear you very well above the sound of this man butchering my arm.” I glared at the healer.

Agos jerked a thumb towards Warlord San. “After his guards took you, Lamang and I learned you were being taken straight to Kyo-orashi. We ran into Lord Huan at Fuyyu and told him everything. Lord Huan found us a fast boat, and we got here two days before your ship did.”

“I had figured Fuyyu would be your next stop after the events at the Sougen,” Huan added. “I didn’t know Warlord San was…doing what he was.” He gave San a wary glance.

The warlord gave a quick bark of laughter. “Snatched her from right under your nose, did I? Poor Anyu whelp! No hard feelings, eh, Little Huan! But you did your part for her as well. I can’t fault you for that. I knew you and your brother were fond of her.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Huan said with a grim smile. He turned back to me. “When we arrived here in Kyo-orashi, we decided that the best way was to approach Warlord San directly.”

“I told them what I told you,” San continued for him. “About the dragon, and how the title of warlord needed to have weight behind it. You were a young, untested warrior, as far as the land was concerned. Now you will bear dragon scars for the rest of your life—”

“I’m not sure I share the same sentiment about scars…”

“—a feat you accomplished with an entire city’s eyes on you. You should thank me, Lady Talyien!”

“For making me look more horrible in a dress?” I sighed. “Let me guess. The rest of this plan was Khine’s, and he did it behind your back.”

“The fuckface forgot his place,” Agos snorted.

“I had thought that I was still in the process of…discussing…a more reasonable solution with Warlord San,” Huan said, still the very picture of diplomacy. “Until I heard this morning that you were here, and that you were already in the fighting pits.”

“Her decision,” San said.

Huan smiled politely. “Your man Agos and I rushed to the arena as fast as we could. By the time we got there, we heard that Lamang had already gone in after you.”

San nodded. “He made a good argument—if the goal is to draw attention to your return to Jin-Sayeng, to show the land your true value, then the prospect of someone giving his life for you after you had put up a good fight would have more impact. And the fact that we had a bigger, fiercer dragon than I anticipated—well, even you must admit that you took the crowd’s breath away.”

“You sent him there to die.”

“His words, not mine. Mind you, we spoke about this long before I came to fetch you from the docks. We didn’t know it was going to be this big of a dragon. It was all a show. I highly doubt he meant to die.”

But that look on Khine’s face…

My own life, to yours? It was a startlingly simple choice for him.

“And all of this,” I said at last. “Qun had no idea.”

“Not a damn thing,” San replied with a laugh. “He thought you were going in there alone. He didn’t know your men were here.”

“What did he want to happen?”

“Everything you saw,” San said, “except he goes in there to save you instead of your people—to show the land Zarojo supremacy, that even such a powerful woman would be feeding off their hand.”

“He thought you were working with him. Allies.”

“Shows what he knows about Jinseins,” San sniffed. “We take care of our own first. I would’ve had him killed the moment he approached me in Fuyyu, only…well, he had my balls in a vise. A family thing. I’ll spare you the details.”

“I figured as much. Aren’t you afraid of him now?”

“You interrupted our plans, not I,” he said with a grin. “I’ll pretend I thought Lamang was his. A Zarojo—why would I question it? As far as I knew, I was still doing what he asked. You’re both gravely injured right now—the physicians will confirm it and my guards will see to it that no visitors make their way to this wing. When you’re both better…” His eyes flashed. “You’re going to escape in the dead of the night.”

“Yet again,” I murmured. “And then what?”

“I don’t know, Lady Talyien,” San replied. “This is your mess to fix, isn’t it?” He bowed before walking away.

Lord Huan started to follow him, but he lingered at the doorway. “My lady,” he said quietly. “Before the dragon flew off, you called it my lord.”

“I did,” I replied without looking at him.

I heard him clear his throat. “Why?”

I didn’t answer.

“My lady,” Huan continued. “That dragon…” He paused. “It’s the one that attacked the tower.”

“Yes.”

“The same one that killed my brother?”

“My lord,” I told him. “We will speak of this later. I am tired and would like to sleep.”

“As you command.” The door creaked shut.

The healer finished stitching my wounds, bandaged my arm, warned me not to accept any more visitors and to eat when the servants come by with my meal, and then left with what appeared to be a breath of relief. I stared up at the ceiling as Agos pulled up a chair to sit beside me.

“You’re the craziest bitch I know,” he said with a sigh.

“I should have your head for that,” I murmured.

“You won’t.” It was probably our oldest joke.

“I broke your gift,” I said, remembering the sword.

“I saw. Don’t worry, I’ll get you another. A better one.”

“It worked though, didn’t it?”

He cracked a smile. “All that for Lamang, huh?”

“Agos—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. I was just going to say that maybe if I was the one getting chewed up you’d have ripped the bars apart with your bare hands. A man can dream.”

“No offense, Agos, but that is an awful dream. You could do better.”

He snorted. “Maybe.” He got up. “I’ll go check on the bastard, see if he’s still breathing. Least I can do right now. Don’t know what got into his head. I’m surprised he lived as long as he did, to be honest. Man’s got two left feet when he fights.”

“He said he didn’t see the difference between the dragon and you.”

“Didn’t he? Fucking idiot. I hope he doesn’t croak before I can throw him around some more.” He squeezed my shoulder and left me on my own. The herbs took effect not long after, pulling me down into a dreamless sleep.