CHAPTER SIX

THE WOLVES OF OREN-YARO

A curious thing happens when you return to your childhood home. No matter how long you’ve been away, the wave of nostalgia becomes inescapable. You get glimpses of a life you thought you had left behind. A long time ago becomes yesterday and you find yourself automatically searching for other familiar sights and voices, even those who had long since left the world. I remembered riding in a boat much like this with my father, the same muggy sky hovering over us. He had pointed to Oka Shto on the mountain in the distance, his hand on my shoulder.

Almost out of reflex, I found myself reaching up to touch it. It was the same shoulder the dragon had bitten; I cringed at the dull pain. My father could be affectionate, given the chance, but there was always a layer over it—an almost orchestrated warmth that didn’t run any deeper than You are mine. But you hold on to what little you get when you don’t know any better. Knowledge of Yeshin’s betrayals did little to sway the fact that once in a while, I still missed him.

Even now, I don’t like to admit this. I always knew what my father was. I must’ve been only five or six years old when I first heard them call him murderer. A quick word, uttered by one of the kitchen staff. She was hushed as soon as it left her lips. Two days later, she failed to show up for her shift, and it was assumed she had gone off with a lover on a riverboat. But even at that age, I knew what had really happened. There was a layer over my affections towards him, too. I loved and respected him, and I believed he could have led a better nation given half the chance, but a part of me still wanted a father I didn’t have to defend.

I set these thoughts aside. I was not as emotional as Rayyel liked to believe. Warlord Yeshin was sixteen years dead. Whatever had happened, whatever motions he had set into place, this world was my creation, too. If I was to escape the shadow my father’s actions had cast over my whole life, I needed to understand the part I had played in everything. My doing, my mistakes.

We reached Agrayo Bridge before dawn. As the boat crossed the shadow of the enormous stone structure—a project that had nearly bankrupted the Orenar clan, I was told—we jumped. I was not a very strong swimmer, Rai even less so, and so we drifted along the bank on wooden boards, all the way to a storm tunnel that fed right into River Agos.

The tunnel itself held nothing more than a trickle, a by-product of the drier-than-usual season. We plunged into the darkness. Agos knew these tunnels by heart—had to learn them, he explained, in case he ever needed to take me out of the city in a heartbeat. I wondered if Nor knew these things. I had always imagined that all my guards ever had to do was stand nearby and stab people who looked at me the wrong way.

Spoiled, Rai had said. Perhaps the reason it stung so much was because I was starting to suspect it was closer to the truth than I would have dared to confess. Not in the way I would’ve put it, of course. I was knee-deep in sewage and apart from the initial shock from the stench, which threatened to bring my last meal back up my throat, I was dealing with it remarkably well. But I knew so little about the people around me, and even less so of the machinations that had been put in place to preserve my existence and position in the world. Somehow, this needed to change.

We emerged from the tunnels into a narrow maze of alleys, populated by a single beggar who snored in a dirty gutter while cats slept beside him. I dropped a coin into the dirty tin cup in his hand. I noticed Rai staring at me.

“What?” I asked. “I’ve always been charitable. You’d think you would know your wife a little better.”

“Perhaps.” Rai shrugged at his wet clothes. “We’ve never been in a situation where it’s come to light before.”

We heard bells in the distance, straight from the Kibouri temples, marking the beginning of morning prayers. “Khine might be there,” I said. “I’m going.”

“Princess—” Agos began.

“We look like beggars. They won’t look twice.” I pulled my wet hair over my shoulders. “See? I don’t look like me.”

“You always look like you,” Agos grumbled.

“Keep an eye out for guards and wait for us here,” I said. “Rai, come with me. I need you to guide me through the prayers.”

“They’ll know me.”

I reached over to yank his hair tie loose. As he glowered, I flipped his hair forward until he looked like something that had stepped out of a nightmare. “Now they won’t.”

He scowled. “And you really think this will—”

“Move along, Rai.”

“Princess,” Agos repeated. “You can’t be alone with him.”

I didn’t reply. I strode up to the temple, where the acolytes were just beginning to open the gates. Rai eventually followed, shuffling his feet one after the other. The acolytes didn’t comment on our appearance, but directed us to take our shoes off and wipe our feet on the rugs by the entrance.

Marble slabs adorned the surface of the floor. “This stone is imported from the Kag,” I commented.

“Occasionally, warlords try to curry favour with the Ikessars by donating to the temples,” Rai said. “It never really works, but we’re happy to accept the help.”

I glanced at the pews. Most of the early worshippers were people who must’ve been sleeping out in the streets. No wonder we weren’t out of place. An acolyte was going through the crowd, offering bowls of steaming hot soup. He passed us with a quizzical look, and I turned my head and refused the bowl. “It’s freshly made,” the boy said.

“Thank you,” Rai replied. “We’ve eaten already.”

The boy stared at him. “Prince Rayyel?” he stammered.

Rai squeezed the boy’s shoulder before placing a finger on his lips.

“Oh,” the boy murmured. “But…”

We took him aside. The boy now couldn’t stop staring at me. I had never been inside the temples here, but we’d called on the Kibouri priests a number of times during celebrations up at Oka Shto, and he must have been up there to assist. “I’ve heard there’s been disturbances around here,” Rai said, drawing the boy’s attention back to him once more.

“The high priestess is demanding Lord General…Warlord Ozo step down until everything is straightened out,” the boy replied. “She wants Oren-yaro to turn over the Zarojo to the council. Warlord Ozo deemed her hostile and wants her arrested. It’s…it’s a mess, Prince Rayyel. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Will the high priestess be leading the ceremony this morning?”

“No. She’s at the square, with the others. We’re not having morning prayers at all. I told you. People think there’s going to be a war soon and…”

Rai cleared his throat. “With the Nameless Maker’s help, there might not be. Have…have you heard about the condition of the crown prince?” Not my boy. Not my son. I knew he was right that to everybody else, Thanh was a political tool, but I still couldn’t accept it.

The boy stared, and hesitated for a second. My chest tightened. “He’s still up in the castle, last I heard.”

“So he’s not dead,” I broke in, stopping before I could say yet. How much longer did I have? The Zarojo were already here. “Do you know exactly who Warlord Ozo is entertaining in the castle? Say, a man going by the name of Ino Qun?”

“There’s a governor going by that name,” the boy said. “He likes to taunt the high priestess during protests.”

I walked out of the temple. Rai turned to run after me. “Don’t be hasty,” he said.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. He’s Yuebek’s right hand. I kill him, I buy my boy some time.” We reached the temple gates. Agos wasn’t on the street. I swore. For a moment, I contemplated waiting for him, before deciding I was too close. If Qun was in the square right now, I could end it here.

Around us, the wind grew colder, bringing with it the first, biting turn of the season.

We kept to the corners of the street as we arrived at the fringes of the square, at the base of the mountain. Mount Oka Shto towered over us—not the benevolent guardian it had always been, but something darker, more foreboding. And the reason had nothing to do with the mountain itself, or the weather, which had turned gloomy.

No—it was the guards. There were guards everywhere, all Oren-yaro, armed and in armour. From the number alone, you would think we were already at war.

“Inzali’s little trick just added fuel to the fire,” I breathed. “I hope the council sends enough soldiers.”

Rai looked troubled.

“What’s the matter, my lord?” I said under my breath. “You’ve played Hanza. You make a move, your enemy counter-attacks. You’re looking at Ozo and Yuebek’s counter-attack. They’ve taken your lie and used it to bolster their claims. Don’t forget. Together, the Oren-yaro and Yuebek’s soldiers are a force to be reckoned with. All it takes is a province or two to lend their support and…”

He scowled. “Oren-yaro rule, at last. With you on the throne.”

“And my son’s corpse as the rug. No thank you, my lord.” There was no sign of Qun, though I could see what appeared to be a group of Kibouri worshippers mingling outside one of the taverns. I decided to pay a visit to the one next door while I waited. The prospect of impending war didn’t seem to dampen business one bit; if anything, it increased it. The tavern was so dark and so busy, nobody paid me or Rai a second glance.

Or perhaps I had overestimated the power of people’s recollections. I ordered a draught of Oren-yaro beer straight from cellars chilled by the River Agos itself—which took forever to arrive—and barely caught news from the castle—nothing but snippets of what I already knew. Warlord Ozo had welcomed the Zarojo with open arms, designating Governor Qun as his personal guest. With so many Oren-yaro soldiers about, did that mean my son was safe from the Zarojo’s clutches? Where did Ozo stand about my son’s survival?

I sighed into my beer.

Rai opened his mouth to comment, but before he could get a word in edgewise, the door opened. Two Oren-yaro soldiers walked in. They were followed by two more men in civilian clothing. “A table for us,” one said. The Zirano accent was undeniable.

I held my breath.

The owner seated them at the far end of the tavern. The lilt in the man’s speech was enough to attract the other patrons’ attentions, too, and I could feel the tension rise as they regarded the Zarojo with clear looks of disdain.

“Governor Qun is drafting the report as we speak,” the man continued in Zirano, now to his companion. “Something about how the Jinsein folk see us.” He glanced around the room, as if aware of the irony.

The other man gave a small grin. “Is he going to lie through his teeth?”

“I’d say yes, probably.”

His companion giggled nervously. “I don’t blame him. The Esteemed Prince Yuebek doesn’t seem like the sort who takes no for an answer.”

They called for an order. I glanced at Rai, who was observing the conversation as closely as I was. Fluency in Zirano was something mostly royals indulged in—Agos knew the basics, picked up after years of having to sit with me during my lessons with Arro, but I doubted their guards understood them half as well. They chatted freely about their work—as government officials accompanying Qun, they seemed to regard it as their civic duty to ensure the entire trip went as planned.

They were close enough that I could hear them without having to strain my ears too much, but the murmur of conversation from the other tables made it difficult to follow everything they said word for word. They lapsed into their personal lives—one had a child in some university in An Mozhi, another was trying to decide which of two women he wanted to marry. I didn’t realize I was tapping my plate impatiently until I caught Rai giving me yet another look.

“Don’t start anything rash,” he grumbled.

I bit back my retort. He wasn’t the object of my irritation, anyway. It was the very idea that I was in my own city, in disguise, while listening to two foreigners ramble on about affairs that were rightfully mine, that grated at me. What kind of queen was I supposed to be? I would steal my son away into the night—and then what?

“When Lady Talyien weds Prince Yuebek…” one of the Zarojo began, and I found myself standing.

Rai reached out to jerk me back down to my seat. I slipped from his grasp. The men turned as I walked towards them. But it was their guards that I addressed. My soldiers, once upon a time. “You let them utter such blasphemies in your presence?” I demanded.

The guards blinked in confusion. Now I turned to the Zarojo. It took plenty of effort not to run them through with my sword where they stood. “You speak openly of Lady Talyien renouncing her vows. Do neither of you understand Jin-Sayeng’s laws? Divorce is impossible, and having the priests dissolve the marriage is going to be difficult without the right reasons, so either you are implying that her husband Lord Rayyel will have to be killed, or you are implying that we break our own laws to allow this…Prince Yuebek…to marry her. It is treason, either way.”

The guards’ hands strayed to their swords. One of the officials stopped them. “Let’s entertain the madwoman,” he said. “Her Zirano is impeccable.”

“Not surprising,” the other added. “There was a time when the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro was well-regarded in this backwater place. Your nation was prosperous, then.”

“For Prince Yuebek to even consider marrying a woman—especially one as disgraced as Lady Talyien is at this moment—is high praise indeed.”

“I’ve heard of this Prince Yuebek,” I retorted in Jinan, so that the guards would understand. “Isn’t he your Esteemed Emperor’s Fifth Son? Your praise tastes like ashes. Like desperation.”

“Prince Yuebek commands an army large enough to trample your warlords’,” the official replied. “I’d hardly call that desperate.”

“Queen Talyien at this point is no more,” his friend continued for him, following my lead in speaking in Jinan. The entire tavern was looking up in interest, and he looked like he was frightened of the backlash. “Even the title of head of Oren-yaro has been taken from her by Warlord Ozo, and rightfully so. Her rule has been steeped in too much intrigue and she has lost standing with not just the other warlords, but her own people. That said, it cannot be denied that she is the rightful heir of the Orenar clan, one that the Oren-yaro people won’t easily forget. Warlord Ozo will restore her title and her lands if she proves herself willing to work towards progress. In this case, her first and only available option is to marry our prince.”

“Her marriage to Prince Rayyel can be annulled easily enough,” the other man said. “He has not shown any interest in reclaiming his position as her husband, and their separation can be examined by both the council and the priests once both step out under the light once more. Her husband’s allegations will play a big part in the proceeding trial. When the investigation is over, decisions can be made for the good of the realm.”

“Decisions,” I repeated icily. “So Lady Talyien must decide between staying married to her husband or marrying Prince Yuebek.” Speaking his name so casually made me shudder.

“If you put it that way,” the official replied.

“I wouldn’t call it treason, in any case,” said the other. “Lady Talyien brought this upon herself.”

It wasn’t their words anymore, then, that was unsettling. It was the fact that everyone in that room—most of them Oren-yaro—listened without a word of complaint. As if they understood. As if they agreed. I realized some were staring too much now, that they recognized me. Their tongues were at the edge of speaking my name.

I strode out of the restaurant feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me. Rai watched me gather my breath at the side of the street. “Your over-confidence will be the death of us. Those guards…they’re following us now.”

“While pretending they’re not. I know them too well.” I sniffed. “This is my city. I’ve been slinking about here since before I met you. But walk a little faster—I want to lead them straight to Agos before they realize what’s happening.”

He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “You think he can take that many?”

“Those were once his men. Two runts he trained, and two unarmed officials? Not a problem.”

“Their conversation was upsetting to you, wasn’t it? More than it upsets me. This is our marriage they were speaking of, too.”

“Maybe it’s because you never cared about the marriage.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know that’s not true.”

I fell silent, allowing my steps to match his.

“Being used as a figurehead and a scapegoat…” he began. He cleared his throat again. “Let us just say it is not a privilege afforded only to you.”

“Tell me, Rai. We’ve gone far too long keeping things from each other.”

“My lady, there are guards behind us.”

“We have to look like we’re in conversation, anyway.”

He sighed. “It is not how I made it sound. Only, if you have ever wondered about the lack of support from the Citadel with regard to this issue, then you have your answer. They argue about me. Have argued about me from the very beginning. Many of the Ikessar bannermen do not agree that I should have been put forward as the heir. They do not agree my mother should’ve led the war against your father in the first place. And so it goes.”

We walked in silence for a length of time.

“Figureheads,” I repeated. “Puppets. Was there a time when we were anything more?”

Rai shrugged. “There was a time, back then…” He paused, fishing for words. “When you told me you were with child. I liked the name Thanh, I said. For a boy.”

“I remember.” I remembered dreaming of it, too, back in Phurywa. I could still feel the snakes inside my belly.

“Thanh. The first Kibouri priest. A great man. Perhaps not to your people, but to mine. He stood for the very ideals that the Ikessars would later be known for. I had the misguided notion that perhaps my Thanh could lead the whole of Jin-Sayeng along such a path. A boy loved by both his parents, and not for what he could offer them—not like you, who was Warlord Yeshin’s sword against my mother, or I, who was to be the dagger to his heart.”

My Thanh. He was chewing his lip now, staring into the distance. For the first time, I understood exactly what I had done to him. Old enough to have known better, but far too young to look ahead, to peer into a future that held no meaning for me…I had cast doubt on the one thing he could ever truly call his, dragged it back into the shadows of titles and facades. What was the love for a child in the face of political maneuvering? There was no room for uncertainty in our world.

“You did jeopardize the succession,” he continued in a low voice.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t just turn a blind eye. If another had learned of it first, you might not even get an investigation. You’d both be dead before you could deny the allegations.”

“I know that, too. But Rai…we could’ve done better. I should’ve considered the weight of our actions. I should’ve told you about Agos. And you…you could’ve told me about Chiha.”

Rai took a sharp breath before lowering his eyes. “My lady, I…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have no excuses. I was young. We were not yet married, and Lady Chiha had been…a friend.”

“You knew that I knew.”

He scratched his chin. “I had wanted to believe…that I was mistaken. That the rose…I fooled myself into thinking it must’ve been a servant who…but I always knew…” He fell silent. I realized that this was not something Rayyel knew how to talk about, not something he knew how to face. I wanted to lord it over him, wanted to gloat. Instead, I just felt a hollow weight. And so here we were in this sea of treachery and vipers and intentions too muddled to break apart, with nothing to show for it.

“She was saying her farewell,” Rai continued.

“Some farewell,” I grumbled.

He turned red and fell silent.

I sighed. I couldn’t even muster the old anger anymore. “You are aware of the hypocrisy, in light of everything that happened.”

I had to give him credit. He simply nodded. “I am aware that I did not act as honourably as I could have.”

A part of me felt as if such a moment should’ve carried more weight than it did. Should’ve felt like a blade in my heart, that thorn Agos had mentioned, getting yanked out without a care for how it made me bleed after. But I didn’t feel that way. It was as if I was looking at our lives from the bottom of a glass jar, the distortion becoming more apparent with every passing hour. If our lives had been a play, if we had been nothing but puppets to our parents’ desires, then I was now at the applause, clapping as I was made aware of what was and wasn’t real. “It’s all in the past,” I said. “You said it yourself. We have to live with what we created.”

He gestured. “This, you mean?”

“This. We can put the blame on my father, who managed yet another underhanded trick on your mother from beyond the grave. Or Yuebek and his damn ambitions. Or we can understand the part we played in all of it, too. And we can try to fix it.”

“I thought I was trying to do that,” he grumbled. “But it seems that Yuebek has always been one step ahead of us. None of us would’ve anticipated such a brazen move from the Oren-yaro. No wonder they chose to accept your disgrace—Lord Ozo stood to benefit from it.”

“Then Qun really needs to die. We have to save Thanh and somehow kill the bastard while we’re at it.””

He frowned. “I don’t know what that will do. Yuebek will still be alive.”

“Didn’t you hear what those men were saying? If the Zarojo are seen as saviours, they can’t very well be seen as invaders now, can they? They want the Jinsein people to cheer them through the streets. But without Qun, they’ll be floundering. There’s a reason he’s here.”

“Killing him will only add to your crimes.”

I gritted my teeth. “Didn’t you hear them, Rai? I’m beyond redemption. What do I have left to salvage?”

My words were ominous. As soon as they left my lips, I heard the heavy clop of boots behind me and realized the Zarojo officials and the soldiers had finally caught up to us. We were also within sight of the temple. Agos stood nearby, looking frustrated.

I turned around. “Yes?” I asked.

“Who are you?” the older Zarojo asked. “A commoner doesn’t just speak out in public the way you did.”

I smiled. “I suppose there was no point in hiding it. But why don’t you ask them?” I nodded towards the soldiers.

“Lady Talyien,” one of the soldiers offered.

“You were once my guards,” I said. “Does that not count for something anymore?”

They hesitated. It wasn’t much, but the fact that they didn’t pounce on me immediately gave me a surge of hope, the first I had felt in months. But before I could do anything about it, they glanced at something—at someone—behind me, and their expressions verged on panic and fear.

“Suras, Nandro,” Agos said, sauntering up to them like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Captain Agos,” the guards said in unison. Their last words. Agos drew his sword, using the familiarity to his advantage, and cut them where they stood. They were dead before they hit the ground. I was still staring in shock when Agos stepped over their bodies and slid his sword into them a second time, just to make sure.

“I’m sorry, boys,” he murmured. “A waste, really. Akaterru forgive me.” He turned to the Zarojo officials, who were both staring with sheet-white faces.

“We’ll call for more,” one of the officials stammered.

Agos rubbed his wet brow. “You’ll be dead, and us gone, by the time they get here.”

The official pointed. “If she really is the lady of Oren-yaro, then she has nothing to fear. We’re…”

Agos killed the man. He didn’t even have time to shriek. But the other did, scrambling over the blood and bodies in an attempt to flee from us. It was Rai who tripped him. He didn’t do more than that, but he didn’t have to. Agos struck him from the back.

“No time to hide the bodies,” Agos said, spitting on the side. “Let’s get out of here before a patrol comes this way.”

We ripped out their pockets as an afterthought, to make it look like a theft gone wrong, and then we left them to stiffen and stink on the empty street.