CHAPTER ONE

PICKING UP THE PIECES

I write this now without skipping a beat, because it is the dead of the night and I am afraid Sayu will awaken if one of her boys stirs from a nightmare. I don’t want her to see these pages, and I know I will lose my courage and stop writing if she does. Some things you can only begin, and you count on happenstance to carry you the rest of the way. Such as it is with the memory of that night. I wasn’t even sure I could recount it, or that I would want to, given what unfolded after.

I don’t know what else I can say. That I regret it? Even if I did, I cannot take it back. Agos was safety, Agos was security, he was the world I had known before everything had gone awry. It stung that I couldn’t love him. After that night, I wanted to. I wanted to forget Rayyel, and Khine, I wanted to pretend there was still a way even a woman like me could be happy again.

That last part, right there, is the part of me that was raised by Yeshin. It is the princess that Agos so loved to continue to call me, the queen of Jin-Sayeng even when they say she can’t be anymore. She still doesn’t understand. She cannot grasp that you cannot build a foundation on sand, that this is the price she continues to pay for her father’s decision to offer her whole life in servitude to the land. What else should I have done? Should I have sought comfort in Khine’s arms instead, damn all the consequences? Then you’d say I was a woman who took advantage of a grieving son, who risked a man’s life because she felt sorry for him. Maybe I should have gone to bed alone…to continue making both men hope, when the truth—the actual truth—was there was nothing to hope for. Everything I had to give had gone to my husband, who had done his part to waste it all. Whatever was left inside of me wasn’t worth the trouble. All the ache, the burdens I continued to carry…what kind of a woman would I be if I shared them with anyone?

I slept with Agos. What else is there to say? I woke up after what felt like less than an hour of sleep to the sun’s rays spilling through the curtains and the knowledge that I couldn’t have done a better job ruining my life if I’d tried. I was in a bed that wasn’t mine with dried semen on my thighs, sore after a night spent with a man I had ordered to fuck me so that I wouldn’t have to face the man I didn’t want to love. It doesn’t get lower than that. There are women born with so much less than I have who never had to resort to such measures.

But I can’t say that I regret it. I regret the circumstances that brought me to it, that it had to happen at all, that I hurt more people than I intended to. But without that night, a thousand other possibilities would have opened up, caving in like that sand that was my father’s foundation for my rule. What other choices would have landed on my lap, who else could I have gotten killed, how much more complicated would that have made the chaos I have yet to fix? I didn’t know it then, but it made all the difference.

I didn’t visit Khine again the next day. There was nothing left between us and nothing more to say. Last night’s memories still throbbed like an open wound, and the very thought of facing him again after what I had done left me feeling light-headed. I asked a servant to check up on him and was told he was sleeping. The chief surgeon promised he would take care of him—his antics at the arena had won him friends, at least. He wasn’t back-alley scum to these people. Sometimes a single moment is enough to define a man’s worth.

Lord Huan met us at the gates. Even in the dark, unshaved and dressed in loose robes, he still looked as lordly as a man ever could. The effect of having faced a dragon. I wondered how I looked to him. “By now people will have heard of what happened,” he said. “The other lords will send their men, my own father included, to intercept you. Be careful. Warlord San says he will sound the alarms the moment the sun rises.”

“That’s not much time,” I grumbled.

Huan looked apologetic. “It’s the best he could do. He and Governor Qun had been at odds. This would be the final straw in this alliance of theirs.”

“Have you any idea what dirt Qun has on him?”

Huan scratched the back of his head. “The thing with Eikaro…”

“His connection to the agan?”

He glanced around warily before dropping his voice down. “It’s the same with Warlord San. One of his daughters. She’s being kept in a temple of Sakku on an island off the coast.”

I took a deep breath. “Akaterru. And let me guess—Yeshin found out and fed the Zarojo this information. What’s he been doing, keeping tabs on all the royal children from the start? And then he gives this all to the Zarojo so that it would be easier to manipulate the warlords into doing their bidding?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“That old man—” I shook my head. “I don’t know whether to be revolted or in awe of him.”

“Most of us think the same way, my lady. Your father was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, he still is.”

“He gave them too much,” I said. “Too many tools to use against us. Does Warlord San know of how much Yeshin’s hand was in all of this?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Can you keep it from him? At least until I get to Oren-yaro?”

Huan looked surprised that I would say such a thing. “The thought never even crossed my mind.” He bowed. “Someday, we will speak of the dragon and my brother. Someday. I’m not ready now. But know that when the time comes, Yu-yan will raise her banners for you and I will ride with you to hell and back. You are the true Dragonlord, the Ikessars be damned.”

I felt a chill run through me. “Lord Huan,” I murmured. “I am honoured.”

“Just give me time,” he added with a grin. “Perhaps not until Tori gives birth. She’s not too far along. And my own wife may be pregnant, too—I need to learn the stakes before I make a move.” He nodded towards Agos, who was walking up to us with our horses. “Take care of her,” he said.

Agos snorted. “When have I not?”

“Actually—” I started.

He gave me a look.

“You know what,” I said, “I’ll let you have this one. Until we meet again, Lord Huan.”

Huan reached out to take my hand, pressing it on his forehead before placing his lips over it. “Safe travels, Beloved Queen.”

We started down the road. Agos began to whistle.

“You’re in a good mood,” I commented.

His eyes gleamed. “Don’t tell me I need to explain to you.”

I ignored his implication. “We’re going back to Oren-yaro. As lovely as those words sound, we know the entire castle is going to be crawling with council representatives and Ikessars from top to bottom.”

“So what’s your brilliant plan for when we get there? I assume you want to give Lord General Ozo a tongue-lashing. I’d love to be there for that. I doubt they’ll just let you waltz in there and call Rayyel a liar to his face.”

“I have no intention of waltzing in.”

“That’s what you royals do, don’t you? Waltz.” He gave me the goofiest smile.

“I’m glad this is all very amusing to you.”

“Master Dai’s proposition seems less drastic, if you think about it.” Agos crossed his arms. “He’s a lot of things, that Dai, but I feel like he wants to do right by you. I told you that maybe you should’ve considered his offer. Royal with a commoner—you see anything wrong with that?” He gave me a knowing look.

I glanced away, hoping the darkness hid my expression. “Don’t jest about such things, Agos.”

“It’s not a jest.”

“What happened between us was…”

He grunted under his breath as I trailed off, forging ahead into the darkness. We were silent for a while as I tried to push away last night’s decision into the furthest reaches of my mind. I needed to stop letting Agos take the fall for my incapacities.

“You do have a plan, I hope,” Agos said some time later. “Else you wouldn’t have dared to get us this far.”

“I didn’t want to say it out loud while we were in the Sougen, with Dai’s spies everywhere,” I murmured. “But I think there’s tunnels under Oka Shto. I’m not sure where they are. But I know they exist. I used to hear my father and Arro talking. There’s more to the castle than what meets the eye.”

His horse suddenly surged forward, blood pouring out of its mouth as it crumpled to the ground. Agos managed to jump off in time to avoid getting crushed under its weight. As I yanked the reins up in an effort to get my own mount under control, I saw the arrows sticking out of the dead horse’s neck just as more came flying out of the shadows, imbedding themselves underneath my saddle.

My own horse dropped to his knees and fell to the side. I leaped from the saddle and landed on my shoulder. I rolled to the ditch, where I drew my sword. Agos was already making a headlong rush into the darkness. He threw the lantern and heard someone cry out as it smashed into what I hoped was their face.

“You really don’t learn, do you, Beloved Queen?”

I turned and saw Qun standing on top of the hill overlooking the road.

“Come down here, you bastard,” I said. “Let’s end this.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Qun asked. “I don’t know why you believe this little outburst would be enough to win you your freedom. You know what you are, don’t you? A gift mare for my prince. You can try to escape as much as you want, but you will always be roped back. Always. He’ll break you yet.”

“Like I’d let him,” I snarled.

He smiled. In the darkness, it looked pasted on, the shadows adding extra angles to each corner of his lips. “Do you understand how patient I’ve been with you?”

“I didn’t realize. I apologize for being such an inconvenience,” I said smoothly.

“You were not, as I recall, as patient with my wife.”

I tightened my grip on the sword. “Then come,” I said. “Take your vengeance. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You don’t care about Prince Yuebek at all—this is all for you. Come down, Qun. I’ll let you have the first strike.”

He chuckled. “You once accused me of not knowing the stakes in this game. Oh, but I do know, Beloved Queen. Why do you think I got this far? I do care. I care about my prince claiming his kingdom at last, and the power I stand to inherit paving the way for him. But I was also fond of my wife. And if my vengeance comes in watching you suffer, in seeing you wriggling in my prince’s grasp while we take care of your boy—”

I heard another cry. Agos appeared beside me, soaked in blood. From the way he was still standing, it didn’t look like his.

“No horses,” Qun said, giving a mock shake of his head. “And down to one man. How ever will you get to Oka Shto before me?”

“We can finish this now, Qun!” I roared.

“You never did answer my question about your son. I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Until we meet again, Beloved Queen!”

“Qun!” I thundered.

But he drew away, disappearing with the sound of hooves.

My father had taught me about winning—how to overcome one’s opponents by planning ahead, and being gracious in victory, and knowing how to deal with the aftermath and the spoils. He never taught me how to lose.

I didn’t know, for instance, that you could be down on the ground already and still fall. That the pain of abandonment and humiliation could stretch out like stars before you, every flicker a reminder of the things you should have done, the things you have failed to do. You begin to lose sight of the end and you start to second-guess your actions. Everything becomes an exercise in frustration, as if the act of catching your thumb in your scabbard, or getting a stone in your boot, is a clear sign that the gods do not favour you.

I still don’t know how I made it out of that road, let alone through that night—limping, horseless, with barely any provisions and Qun’s words still fresh in my mind. If you ask me now, I can only remember wanting to curl up in the ditches to die. Why was I being kept alive? Just to serve as Yuebek’s gift mare? Others seem to taste the sweet release of death long before they know their place in time. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to turn my head without getting hammered by someone’s grandiose idea of what I had to be.

But I walked, and kept my thoughts on my son. I made myself remember the sound of his laughter, how he seemed to pour his whole soul into it whenever he found something amusing. He wasn’t the sort of rebellious spirit I was as a child—rather, he had a way of just taking everything in, as if he was content swimming with the water instead of against it. I had often wondered, idly, how this boy who looked like Yeshin could be so, so unlike him.

I thought of his sixth nameday, how I had taken him aside in the midst of the preparations. “Let’s go down to the river and skip stones,” I said.

He immediately dropped the book he was reading. I had heard of children who detested time spent with their parents, who would resist such a request. Never my son; he tore through the study with the eagerness of a small pup, which was immediately hampered by one of his guardians, who blocked the way between us.

“The prince needs to finish his lessons,” the woman said in a flat tone. She wasn’t looking directly at me. Experience had told her I didn’t like getting stared down.

“It’s his nameday, woman. I think we can make an exception.”

“As heir to the Dragonthrone of Jin-Sayeng, he needs—”

“A break,” I finished for her, walking past her to grab my waiting son’s hand. “You can come,” I added, inclining my head, “if you want. We’ll find you a good rock to throw.”

She glowered. Thanh only giggled.

I led him down to the hall, ignoring the woman—and eventually the parade of guards and guardians—behind us. As far as I was concerned, it was just me and him, as it had always been since his father left. On the steps leading down to the city, I paused, not for anything but because I liked seeing my son’s retinue pile up uncomfortably on the narrow trail along the mountainside. The Ikessars hated Oka Shto, and I made sure to remind them why every chance I got.

“How do you feel about sweet tea, before we go?” I asked. “There’s a shop just by the riverbank. I have enough coin for the both of us.”

“The prince—” one of the guardians intervened.

“Yes!” Thanh exclaimed. And then he paused, glancing at the man who had spoken. “Can we?”

“You don’t have to ask him, my love,” I said. “You’re the crown prince.”

“They told me just because I’m the crown prince doesn’t mean I get to do what I want,” he said gravely.

I felt like I’d been slapped. It was true enough, but to hear it uttered from my son’s mouth was something else. I watched as he turned back to his guardian and bowed. “Can the queen mother and I have sweet tea?” he asked.

The man opened his mouth, half stammering. He hadn’t expected that. I think he only wanted to refuse my request on the grounds that it would irritate me.

“I’m sure we can ask them to give a cup for everyone,” Thanh continued, glancing at the rest of them.

The man conceded. My son laughed, reaching up to grab my hand again, and I let him lead us down those steps. And as proud as I was of him for that moment, as much as it filled me with warmth, I remember wondering if my son was the sort of boy who could ever survive a war. My son was neither wolf nor falcon; he was sunlight, the kind that couldn’t exist in darkness. I had to protect him, I had to be by his side.

Somehow, we made it to the next village, where we spent the next few hours trying to find transportation. There were no horses for sale—the village only had one sick-looking buffalo, and the wagons weren’t due to pass for another few hours, at least. I came to the acceptance that there was no way in hell I would ever overtake Qun. If we could walk to the coast, perhaps, and find a boat…

“There’ll be soldiers on the road and soldiers on every dock from here to Osahindo, and beyond,” Agos told me. “Qun’s the least of your worries.”

“So what would you have me do?” I snapped at him.

“I’m just saying that out of all the options you’ve got left, the most sensible one remains.”

“You want me to march back and beg Kaggawa for forgiveness?”

“If it makes you feel any better, his men must’ve been in Oren-yaro for weeks.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I hissed.

“They won’t let anything happen to Thanh.”

“The fact that they’ve been there for weeks and we haven’t heard anything must mean they’ve got no idea how to get him out,” I said. “So much for Kaggawa’s spies.”

“Let them know about the tunnels. If they know they’re there, they’ll know how to look.”

I turned to him. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

He looked away, grumbling. “It’s just a thought. No need to be snippy with me.”

I turned away from him as a figure on horseback caught my attention.

Agos squinted. “I’ll be damned,” he growled. “That’s—Lamang !”

Khine turned at the sound of Agos’s voice. He looked even more sickly under the sun, his skin all the paler under the bright light. He sat loosely on his saddle, struggling to stay upright. I hung back as Agos strode towards him.

“Are you really trying to get yourself killed?” Agos roared. “How about I save you the trouble and smash your head on the road myself?”

Khine ignored him. He clambered down from the saddle and pushed the reins into Agos’s hands, but he never once looked at him. He slowly made his way to me. His eyes were hard, his face a stone wall.

“I told you I’d find you,” Khine said. All the playfulness, the smooth tones I had come to expect from him, were gone from his voice. He was angry with what I had done, angry that I had chosen to use his feelings to cut him loose from my life. I didn’t regret it, either. I’d do it all over again if I had to.

“There’s nothing for you here. Go home, Khine. With the embargo gone, there’ll be fishing boats heading to Ziri-nar-Orxiaro from Kyo-orashi again.”

“I know. I sent Cho on one.”

“Let me guess—he didn’t know you weren’t planning to come.”

“Of course not,” Khine said. “He thinks I’m being foolish.”

“We all do.”

“And you think,” he continued in a lower voice, “that I’m the sort of man you could drive away that easily. I thought you were a better judge of character than that, Queen Talyien. Do you think I care what you do or who you take into your bed?”

“You care,” I hissed. “You wouldn’t be so angry otherwise.”

“Consider, perhaps, that what you think are my feelings, and what I actually feel, may not resemble each other.”

“You should tell yourself the same thing about me, Lamang.”

He gritted his teeth. “I agree that it seems to be a flaw in both our personalities.”

“I’m glad we’ve come to some agreement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a son I need to save, and I am not going to worry about your soft, foolish skull while I’m at it. Go home, Lamang.”

I started to walk down the road without looking back. Agos returned the horse to Khine and raced back to join me. Ten, twenty paces in, I heard Agos give a soft sigh. “Fucking idiot is still following us.”

“Of course he is,” I murmured. I could hear Khine’s horse clopping on the road.

“I’m not even sure he can see straight. The idiot is swaying from side to side. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? I’m not going to play nursemaid if he bleeds out here.”

“Neither am I,” I replied. “Let’s see what happens. I really doubt he can keep up with us the way he is.” I bit my lip and focused on marching north for the rest of the day.

The Jinsein people know persistence better than most. Persistence wins battles. Persistence bleeds the enemy. Persistence keeps you planting rice on fields ruined by hurricanes, year in and year out, each forward motion defined like the beating of a drum. But my people did these things to get something in return, little as those chances might be. If you managed to kill the enemy, you lived. If you planted rice, you ate.

I didn’t know what Khine thought he would gain by pushing his body beyond its limits. And I wasn’t heartless, although I tried to be. When I saw that he was still riding behind us at the next village, I decided to call it a night, to Agos’s disappointment. I all but dragged Khine off his horse, found a room to stuff him in, and then went off in search of a healer. I found someone who agreed to look at him—a wrinkled old man with toothless gums and the smell of herbs clinging to him like a second layer of skin. He wasn’t as conservative as Warlord San’s chief surgeon and thought all that Khine needed was a good night’s sleep, hot soup, and copious amounts of sambong tea.

“Please don’t insult me any further,” Khine murmured as soon as the man was gone. “I think I know what I’m capable of surviving or not. You could’ve saved your money.”

“Good to know,” I snapped. “I don’t need the baggage.”

Agos called for me from down the hall. I started for the door.

“Tali,” Khine breathed in a voice that was almost pleading.

“What?”

“I’m not—I’m not asking you to reconsider anything,” he said at last. “Just talk to me again. Like you used to. Don’t drive me away. Please.”

His words felt like shards of steel. I slammed the door shut. I didn’t want to be caught alone with him ever again.

Easier said than done. I had made decisions that were harder, it seemed, to follow through than I imagined. Agos was sitting on the floor as I walked in. “We could leave before dawn, see if we can outrun him,” Agos said. “At the state he’s in, he won’t get very far.”

I didn’t say anything as I slumped down on the other end of the room and unlaced my boots.

“I can talk to him, Princess.”

“Don’t. It will only complicate things.”

“You can’t lie to him, but I can.”

I said nothing as I picked up the single blanket and dropped down on the edge of the mat. I felt Agos settle down beside me before tentatively touching my shoulder.

“Go to sleep,” I said. “I’ll decide what to do with him tomorrow.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“If you can’t sleep, then—”

“Agos.”

He pulled away with a cough, turning his back to me. I closed my eyes. That night, at least, the size of Warlord San’s quarters and the stone walls had given the impression of my decisions being made inside a bubble. But we were in a small hut, vacated hurriedly by a family for a paltry amount of coin; I could, if I tried hard enough, hear Khine’s breathing through the gaps of the bamboo wall. I was sure he was awake, too. The minutes crawled on like that, and I felt like I was still walking on the long, dusty road. It was a relief when exhaustion finally claimed me.

I woke up very early the next morning while Agos was still snoring to pay the healer another visit.

He had the herbs I needed and didn’t even ask for too much for them. I paid him and went up the path, and Khine was there, waiting. He must have followed me straight from the hut. He should’ve forgotten trying to be a con man or a doctor—life as an assassin would suit him better. I glanced away from him irritably.

Khine cleared his throat as I walked past him. “I overheard something from the castle yesterday. You probably know about it already, but…I didn’t want to take the chance that you didn’t.”

“And you’re going to say this is why you followed me.”

“One of many reasons.”

“Out with it, then.”

“They said that a small pocket of Kibouri worshippers are rallying in your city, led by the priests. They’re protesting your general laying claim to the city.”

“Those people hate me. I’m a little relieved to know they hate Ozo even more. Still, I don’t know what good that information will do for me.”

“Your husband is a priest of Kibouri, so by extension, your son should be of some importance to them. If you go to them for help, they’ll have to give you some form of assistance. His very name is a reflection of their religion, isn’t it?”

“They won’t help me. I’ve done nothing but tolerate their presence in my city all these years.”

“It is never too late to begin reparations,” he said. “You are trying to learn diplomacy, aren’t you?”

“I know how to fight, Khine. I know how to make men bleed. But if what happened in Sougen is any indication, I don’t know much beyond that. Every diplomatic attempt I’ve made has ended in disaster.”

“I can help you with that,” he said. “I can pretend to be a Zarojo priest, from perhaps the sect that sprouted the Kibouri religion in Jin-Sayeng in the first place. We’ll make something up.”

“You’re going to lie to priests for me?”

“I’m already going to hell, anyway.”

I sighed.

He pointed at the packet in my hands. “And could you at least let me take a look at those? To make sure they don’t tear a hole through you?”

“Quacks shouldn’t be judging other quacks,” I snapped.

He held his hand out.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” he replied. “I remain reasonable, considering what you’re doing.” Now he reached out to take the packet without my permission. I frowned, watching as he ripped it open. He sniffed the contents.

“Well?” I growled.

“Badly dried,” he replied. “It’s not moldy, and it’s at least the right kind, but…what is this, Tali? Is this all just to make a point?”

“I was wondering when the lecture would start.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

I clenched my fists together. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

He spoke, anyway. “I want to talk about Agos.”

“That’s none of your business.”

He took a deep breath. “I know it’s not.”

“Then leave it be.”

He was silent for a moment. “Tali,” he finally said in a low voice. “Are you aware that Agos has a family?”