CHAPTER NINE

THE LONE WOLF

The tunnels opened up into the kitchens. It was very late, and I knew that most of the servants slept early to make sure they had tea and coffee ready before the rest woke up. With a storm right outside, it was unlikely they would linger through the castle hallway for long. But as we took a turn around the pantry, past sacks of rice, flour, and mung beans, I caught sight of a familiar figure bent over the large kitchen table. A fat woman, with eyes that disappeared every time she smiled. She turned at the sound of our footsteps.

“Agos,” she gasped, recoiling as if seeing a ghost. And then she turned to me, and her face grew whiter. “My queen.”

“Ma,” Agos breathed. He walked towards her.

She slapped him.

Agos’s face was red, though it had nothing to do with the heat from the hearth or the slap itself. A man who took blows like a tree trunk would have hardly felt it. “You show up here after years, without a single word…” she began.

“The queen’s orders,” Agos said. He took his mother’s hand, pressing it against his forehead. If there had been room to grovel, he would have.

Hessa shook her head. “She ordered you to leave and never speak to your mother again? I find that hard to believe.”

“I—”

“Beloved Queen,” she said, pushing Agos away to look at me. She patted my cheeks with both hands, leaving flour on my skin. “Ah, you look thin. Wherever you’ve been, they haven’t been feeding you very well, have they?”

“Not half as well as you did, Ma Hessa,” I replied.

She bowed a little before pulling me into an embrace. “We missed you around here, child,” she said, and I felt a flush of embarrassment, because I never imagined anyone in the castle would ever feel that way about me.

“I went to fetch Lord Rayyel,” I said. I glanced towards Rai, who looked like a drenched rat in the corner.

Hessa pulled away without comment—you would’ve thought that wayward princes showed up at her doorstep every week. Instead, she gestured at the stove. “There’s fried milkfish and bean stew, if you’ll give me a moment to get the stove going. Maybe I’ll fry some eggs, too—that’ll warm up the rice. And you’ll want to see Prince Thanh while you wait, I suppose. That child—ah! Don’t you worry. We took good care of him while you were away. He pined for you, dear child, but I told him—your mother is smart, and strong, and quick-witted. Nothing they do will hurt her. She’ll be back home, you’ll see—and here you are.” She beamed, her cheeks deepening. The familiar sight of her, the scent of sambong tea that seemed to reek from her pores, and even the way her hair curled around the fringes of her hat told me I was home at last. I felt as if a dreaded weight had been lifted from me. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Is he in his room?” I asked.

“The last time I checked. But hey—you’re not supposed to be wandering around the castle this time of the night, are you?” She took me by the arm, pinching me. “Warlord Ozo, he calls himself now. The nerve. You watch out for that one, child.”

“I think she knows—” Agos began.

She turned to him with a vicious glare. “Children,” she huffed. “You know less than you ought to.” She finally uttered a soft sigh, this time pulling him into her arms. It looked odd to see such a large man pressed against his mother’s bosom, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I may just be a servant, but I know where my loyalty lies. We’re Oren-yaro, after all. Can’t say the same for your soldiers. I don’t know what came over them. I’ve been asking for months why they haven’t found you, or saved you if you were in trouble, and they kept their silence. You best be careful, whatever it is you plan to do. You…” She pushed her son aside and wagged a finger at him. “Pay me a visit once in a while, eh? I’m getting old, and lonely. A woman my age shouldn’t be alone.”

“I don’t know if I can after this, Ma.”

“Always so honest. Can’t even lie to make me feel better. So nothing like your father.” She patted his cheek before reaching up to kiss it. “Go, with my love.”

We drifted from the kitchens towards the empty dining hall. My father’s table was gone, replaced by a rectangular monstrosity of Kag make, complete with thick-bodied, velvet-backed chairs similar to the arrangement in Shirrokaru. Tapestries hung from the wall. They bore the wolf emblem of the Oren-yaro, but of the green-and-yellow pattern attributed to the Tasho clan instead of the Orenar. I longed to rip them out and set them on fire. Should I kill Ozo, on top of Qun? I didn’t like killing, but what was one more death? I was keenly aware that my anger, at times, was stronger than my ideals.

Agos took one of the swords hanging from the wall—a royal’s sword with a hooked blade and a hilt carved like a crocodile’s mouth. “I hope Lamang’s putting mine to good use,” he said, hefting it with a grin. “In the meantime, I’m going to help myself to this. Sorry, General Ozo.”

“Is Thanh’s room still at the top floor of this wing?” Rai asked.

It felt strange to hear his voice again here, echoing through the castle. “Yes,” I replied. “The one next to our…to my room.”

Agos bade us to wait in the shadows of the dining hall while he went ahead to make sure the path was clear. It seemed to take forever for him to return; I stood with my back to the wall in silence, trying not to think about Khine or compare that with my husband’s presence beside me. Did I ever really expect Rayyel would be back, after all this time? A part of me must have set my hopes on fire before the rest caught up. I certainly didn’t think I would find myself here, staring at my husband from the corner of my eyes without feeling a damn thing.

Eventually, we heard Agos whistle. We made our way to the staircase, which went up three levels to the main chambers and the study. I instructed Agos to stay on the second landing to keep an eye out for anyone coming in from the guest rooms. He looked conflicted.

“Rai could do it, but I’m pretty sure you’ll fare better if there’s trouble,” I said.

Agos scratched his cheek. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

He swallowed. “Nothing. Go get the prince.”

I sprinted down the hall. Rai followed close behind. I reached the door and threw it open.

The bed was empty.

I felt my insides unbuckle. “Thanh,” I croaked out. It was not a very large room and there was nowhere to hide. I looked behind the door, in the closet, and under the bed. As an afterthought, I tore the sheets from the mattress and yanked the curtains from the windows.

I felt Rai’s hand on my shoulder. “The study,” he said calmly.

My senses started to blur, but I found myself nodding. Of course. If not his room, then the study—he always finished at least a book a night. I tore myself away from Rai. My hands were shaking so much that I could barely get the door open. When it did, I felt the sob rise from my chest to my throat.

He had been there. There were two books on the table and a candle that was burning dangerously low around a pool of wax. The cushions were scattered, flung to every corner of the room past the rug, and one of the shelves was toppled over, spilling more books on the floor. As my eyes focused, I noticed blood on the rug. There was no sign of Thanh.

Rai walked up to the candle, pinching it with his fingers.

Through the haze of my thoughts, I heard the rain dripping from the roof eaves and the sound of the wind howling through the curtains. I realized the window was open. The shutters were broken in, as if someone had crashed through them from the outside.

“Someone else got here before us.” It was as if another woman was speaking in my place.

Rai’s face flickered. “An assassin?”

“Gods, Rai, don’t start—”

“I’m just making suggestions. It looks like there was a struggle.”

I allowed myself to look back at the blood. Too much, from a little boy? I could see streaks of it on the wall, and more gathered near the windowsill. But there was none on the bed and none on the books, which meant it came from someone who fought back. If this was my son, they could have killed him while he was sleeping or reading.

I pressed my fingers into the warm wax on the table and glanced down at the books. It was Famous Wars of Jin-Sayeng by Ichi rok Sagar, a magister who served in Rysaran’s time. The other was a book on Dageian fairy tales, the sort of thing Rai wouldn’t be caught dead with. “Who could’ve gotten here before us? The castle is impenetrable.”

“We got here,” Rai pointed out.

I frowned and stepped back into the hall. I went to check the room Rai and I had shared in our brief time together. It was cold and dark. Grey. Empty. There were no lanterns on the wall, no candles, and the mattress was stripped bare—a thin, white surface that looked like something you might lay a corpse on. The air smelled of damp and mothballs.

I felt him utter a deep breath, as if his mind was wandering down the same path. For one long moment, we both stared at this reflection of our marriage and our lives. And then, without another word, I closed the door and bade him to follow me back to the staircase.

Briefly, I wondered if Thanh might be in the other wing, where my father’s quarters and study were. I had not touched either since his death. For a time, it was because I couldn’t bear to move his things around—a part of me still expected to hear his booming voice telling me to leave his inks and brushes alone. And then later, it was simply because other things had occupied me…life moved on, even after the loss of a man like Yeshin.

But I didn’t have time to say these thoughts out loud. Agos wasn’t on the landing where I left him. I could hear movement down on the first floor, in the great hall that also served as the throne room during my reign. I felt my skin crawl and drew my sword, motioning for Rai to keep alert.

The lamps were still lit. I craned my head around the arch and saw Qun sitting on the throne—on my throne. I couldn’t help myself. Before Rai could stop me, I stepped out into the light. “That’s my spot, you bastard,” I said.

“Merely keeping it warm,” Qun replied. He remained seated.

“You’ve worn my patience thin. Where’s my son?”

“Where’s my husband? Where’s my son? You need to take better care of your family, Beloved Queen.”

I drew my sword and advanced towards him.

“A moment,” Rai said in a raised voice.

Qun’s eyes brightened. “Prince Rayyel!” he exclaimed. “Now, this is an even better surprise. You both should have sent word—I would’ve ordered a magnificent spread. None of this despicable peasant food you all seem to love.”

“I intend to withdraw my accusations personally, in front of the entire council,” Rai continued. “I hope you understand what she will do to you when she is queen again.”

“Withdraw?” Qun pretended to look shocked. “But that would mean you lied. How awful! Because you can’t expect us to believe she really didn’t spread her legs for another man?”

It took all of my newfound patience not to launch myself at him.

Rai barely flinched. “Your insults will not go unpunished.”

“Ah. And such crimes, I believe, are punishable by death, yes?” Qun laughed. “What good would that do? Even as we speak, Prince Yuebek is on his way with all the documents of her wrongdoings in the years since you so honourably—as is your right!—departed from her despicable, debased presence. Her nightly activities, her many lovers, which includes one or two lords you might be acquainted with, Prince Rayyel, in addition to her usual menu of guardsmen…”

“You’re babbling. Dead men like to babble before I cut their heads off,” I said through gritted teeth. “My son,” I repeated. “Where is he?”

“Wandering around the castle halls no doubt, hiding in shame from his mother—”

I struck the throne. The blade sank into the wood below his thigh. I could see the sweat pouring from his face. Yet somehow, the fear wasn’t enough to stop his mouth. “You need not worry so much, my dear,” he gasped. “When Prince Yuebek is here, he’ll set everything aright. He is a loving, generous man, as you well know, and he is still willing to take you on as his wife despite your many faults. The nation need not learn of your many depravities. With the prince’s assistance, you can secure the throne and end this foolishness once and for all.”

I managed to wrench the sword loose and struck the armrest. He jumped back—I had cut him on the shoulder, a small nick. I don’t think the man had ever seen his own blood in his life. It was amazing how fast he went from a smug official to a doddering fool.

I heard footsteps behind me. Guards.

“Governor!”

Jinan. I turned to see five Oren-yaro bearing down towards me. My own men, once.

I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out. “Why are you on the Zarojo’s side?” I called.

They had the same expression as the guards in the city—a mix of resolution and shame, as if the same unseen hand that had forced me into Anzhao was now driving them. That same hand that wanted to drag me, kicking and screaming, to Yuebek’s side. I laughed as they drew closer. If this was how the bastards wanted it, then so be it. Five against one wasn’t fair, but when had it ever been? It was always me against a multitude.

I lunged at the nearest guard. He backed away, and I realized my advantage quickly—he needed me alive. I, on the other hand, had no such qualms. The narrow passageway between the wooden columns that decorated each side of the great hall meant that his companions couldn’t get to me fast enough, and I had his back to the wall in no time. My sword managed to cut his belly. The poor boy didn’t even have time to scream. As he dropped to his knees in an attempt to staunch the blood, I turned to the next.

“Talyien!” Rai warned. “The governor!”

I saw Qun’s robes disappearing in a flash.

“He must be going for Thanh,” I cried. “Where the fuck is Agos?” I struck at the next guard, who wasn’t as careless as the last one.

“He—”

“Stop talking and go after him, Rai!”

He turned awkwardly on his heel before scampering after Qun, who was heading for the back door, the one leading to the gardens. I covered his path as my opponent pressed forward. Parried, lunged again. Caught his arm. Harder to fight someone you were tasked not to hurt. Did they all think I wouldn’t take advantage? He struck me with his elbow in an attempt to pin me down and I rewarded him with a dagger in the throat.

I wondered what went through the bastard’s mind as he died. Regret, possibly. I didn’t want to blame him—to defy orders would be to face death, too—but I still felt a pang of anger. He could’ve defied the easy path and deferred back to me. Wolves? They were Akaterru-damned dogs. We all were.

His body dropped to the ground and I managed to squeeze into the next hall and then through the back door, slamming it shut before I jammed the dagger into the crack between the frame. I knew it wasn’t much of a deterrence, but anything to delay them was good enough for me. I could see Qun at the fountain, that same one where I had killed that innkeeper a lifetime ago. Rayyel had his sword drawn a few feet away.

“My son, Qun,” I said, spitting to the side. “I just killed two soldiers back there. How much easier would you be, I wonder?”

The nervous expression had left Qun’s face. “Let’s say I have him in the woods behind me,” Qun said, reverting to that old grin.

“He’s lying,” Rai commented.

“Bound, gagged, with my master’s mages standing over him,” Qun continued, ignoring him. “Would you be so confident then, Beloved Queen? Knowing you have everything to lose? My master doesn’t need the boy at all, as he must’ve told you once. A worthless piece of meat.”

“You’re talking about the crown prince of Jin-Sayeng,” Rai said.

Qun held out a finger. “No. Not at the moment. You yourself made that clear.”

“I fabricated the announcement. It wasn’t approved by the council.”

“And they’ll readily admit that, the mostly Ikessar council, that their boy would go and do such things behind their back? No, no.” He made a sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head. “You knew you were playing with fire, Prince Rayyel.”

“You—” I started.

“The sword, Beloved Queen,” Qun said. “Drop it.”

I stared at him, breathing hard.

“He’s lying,” Rai repeated. “Don’t fall for it, Talyien. He’s not…”

I dropped the sword into the fountain. It sank with a splash.

Qun clapped his hands twice. “There. Easy enough, isn’t it? Any other weapons?”

“See any?” I replied, holding my hands out.

He smiled. “Now let’s go say hi to your boy. You,” he added, pointing at Rayyel. “Stay here.”

“Don’t believe a word he says, Talyien,” Rai said in a low voice. “Why would Thanh be with him? In the middle of the night, after tearing his room asunder—”

“Stop, Rai,” I replied. “Just stop for once, for the love of the gods. I have to see this through.”

“You’re going to be at his mercy in there.”

“I already am,” I murmured. I stopped right in front of Qun. “My son, you bastard.”

He dropped his head in a quick bow, gesturing. Together, we stepped into the dappled shadows of the Oka Shto woods.

No, of course I wasn’t a damn idiot. I was busy ripping my sleeve as I walked behind him, because if it came down to strangling him with a piece of cloth in order to save my son, well…I was happy enough to do it. I didn’t think he noticed. The moon was shining on the cliff to our right, peering out from behind the tall trees.

“You make it seem like marrying our prince would be such a chore,” Qun said, folding his hands behind him.

“The way he looks these days?” I asked. “I can imagine. The servants would be forever tripping on bits of him in the hallways.”

“He’s recovering,” Qun said. “If you see him now, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“I really doubt that.”

“He—”

“I’m bored, Qun,” I drawled. “Nothing Yuebek offers can ever interest me. Ever. I don’t know why my people are so enamoured with him or why they let you just walk into my palace with open arms, and at this moment, I don’t think I care.”

“Ah, I do suppose you wouldn’t. You’ve never cared much outside of your sordid little affairs, did you? Your husband. Your lovers. Your despicable little brat. Did you think we haven’t kept an eye on what’s happening out here?” He pressed his lips together. “Your lords to the west are riding against peasants as we speak. To the south—after the mess in Kyo-orashi, your coastal lords are arguing amongst themselves. The east is silent, but of course they would be after the remarkable news your husband gifted your nation with. Who knows what will happen once the truth of that is revealed?”

I swallowed. “So be it,” I said. “If I must abdicate—”

“Ah, but we can’t let you do that. They won’t let you. It’s so very interesting to me as someone who has observed power his whole life to see how you’re the center around which everything revolves. Why you, Queen Talyien, and not your husband?”

I smirked. “Everyone hates me, so it can’t be my charming personality.”

“No,” Qun agreed. “Definitely not.”

We found ourselves where the path met the side of the cliff.

“It’s your father, I believe,” Qun said, folding his arms together. “Such a brilliant man. Such faith in his young daughter. I think the story he painted for you—what you were, what you could do—was enough to set your path. Your husband’s mother never did such a thing, you see? To her, he was weak, unworthy, and so he spent his whole life trying to prove her wrong. A big difference. You spent yours trying to prove your father right.

“The power you wield was never attached to your name. It lies in that steel heart, the red-hot blood that runs through your veins. I didn’t really think you would face that dragon, let alone make it all the way out here on your own. I was expecting you to give up. You looked like you wanted to give up. We needed you down on the ground, on your knees. Instead, every blow that should’ve sent you crying into my prince’s arms only seemed to strengthen your resolve. I’m not quite sure how you’ve done it all, to be honest.”

I stared back at him in shock. Admiration coming from this man was the last thing I expected. He smiled, seeing the look on my face. “You shouldn’t have killed my wife,” Qun said with a sly grin. “I might’ve been more lenient. Perhaps I could have learned what I could from you before—well, before the inevitable. But you, with all this power, can never bring her back, and my master finds your eccentricities a touch too much for his tastes.” He grew serious. “Jump, Queen Talyien.”

“What?”

Qun gestured at the ravine. “If you want to see your son alive again, jump.”

I remember telling Khine that this was what they had been trying to do all along. I didn’t realize they would mean it literally. I struggled not to laugh as I glanced at the sharp rocks, and then back at him. “That fall will kill me.”

“If it does, that’s nothing to me,” Qun said. “But I don’t see it happening. It will break your bones, yes, and quite possibly more. I have mage-healers in the castle—they will set you back the way they set my prince back. It will then be a match made in heaven, you see?”

“You’re insane,” I hissed.

“No,” Qun replied. “I’m perfectly fine. You might not be when we’re done with you, but you know…such are the sacrifices of war, won’t you agree? My prince wants you compliant. My prince wants you chained to him, held together by the agan and unable to function without the same spells he needs after what you did to him. And then you can never run from him again.” He reached out to grab hold of my shoulder. “Jump,” he repeated, his voice seething. “Or I will do things to your boy that will make you wish you were never born.”

I pushed him away from me, reeling, the memory of the threats he had uttered that night on the ship intermingling with thoughts of Thanh. “You fucked-up bastard,” I said, before I threw myself off the cliff.