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THE IKESSAR FALCON

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Chronicles of the Bitch Queen: BOOK THREE

by

K. S. Villoso

The stunning conclusion to the Chronicles of the Bitch Queen trilogy, in which the queen of a divided land struggles to unite her people—even if they despise her.

The chosen lie on a bed of nails.

Queen Talyien’s enemies come riding for her while she remains trapped between her duties, her desires, and her father’s deceit. War is on the horizon, a rising sun that threatens to swallow the nation whole. At the helm stands the gilded monster, the anointed, the would-be saviour of Talyien’s chaotic land.

Bearing the brunt of the past, Tali will need to decide between fleeing her shadows or embracing them, before the whole world catches on fire.

A lone wolf. An apt description. What else do you call Yeshin’s child as she sits in silence in her own domain, seven days undisturbed, unattended save for a handful of servants who ensured she was kept fed and clean like a kenneled dog? Seven days home, and no one who could’ve called themselves family or friend had spoken to me. I had heard the comings and goings of various officials and royals over the last few days, but they presented themselves to either Ozo or my husband, Rayyel.

I had to struggle to remember I was once queen.

Because you couldn’t see it even if you tried. Since my return, the servants handed me my meals, replaced my sheets, laid out fresh clothes, and accompanied me to the bathhouse without ever once looking straight into my eyes. An almost impressive feat, had I been in the mood to be impressed. But I wasn’t. These were people who had known me my whole life, who had served my father when I was little, and who had once seemed to care for me in their own way.

I found it hard to believe that respect for Ozo was enough for them to forget the way things used to be. He must’ve made threats, their lives and families’ lives in the balance. I could see it in their empty faces and dead eyes. Polite enough, but walled in, unreachable. I tried to speak to them honestly at first, to call those I knew by name. I was met with abject silence. As the days wore on, I started to see less of them. Lately, my meals were left on a tray outside the door, and the servants stopped coming for me.

To be seen, but not heard; to know that they uttered your name between hissed breaths and gritted teeth, and that if you disappeared into thin air, they would carry on as if your substance could be sustained by their falsehoods. Perhaps you are prepared to take such things from your enemies, but from your own? From the people who claimed to care for you, even love you, who once assured you they would never turn on you come hell or high water? They had lives to live, and for that they were willing to bury me at first light.

I couldn’t even muster anger. All of that left with Agos the night he turned on Rayyel—my husband’s life in exchange for mine and my son’s, an equation so simple for him he didn’t even see he was being used like the rest of us. It was difficult to become angry with a dead man, especially one whose insolence had saved your son. Agos had handed Thanh over to Kaggawa as a hostage just before the Zarojo soldiers could kill him. A treachery deflecting other treacheries—there was an irony in that somewhere. Be damned if I could be bothered to look, though. The double-headed spear of grief and fear for my son’s life had rendered me capable of little else. Certainly not the rage that would’ve once vaulted me over the window and straight to wherever Ozo had cloistered himself, to demand he hand back everything.

What had he taken, anyway, that I hadn’t thrown away myself?

I stared at the walls of my chambers, trying hard to silence my thoughts, to remind myself I had made it this far. There was still a chance for me to regain my crown and sit on the throne as was once promised. I was no longer that young, naive queen who left this castle a year ago. Beaten gold is still gold. Thinned, it remains unyielding. So fashion it into a chain. Strangle your enemies. I was Yeshin’s daughter. Tainted as I was by the weight of those words, I could take everything that was good about that and show the land that despite all the cracks, despite all the mistakes I’ve made, despite that my own father didn’t think me worthy, I had what it took to be a capable ruler. If I could be queen again, I would show them. I could rise from these ashes and be the leader they had yearned for all these years.

The knocking from the window broke my thoughts. I pretended to ignore it, but the sound persisted. With a sigh, I made my way to the end of the room and undid the latch. Khine stepped in, his hair damp from the drizzle. Water dripped from his boots.

A correction—no one I would consider family or friend had come to talk to me. Lamang was neither. After everything that had happened the past few days, I wasn’t sure how to examine my feelings for him under this new light. His presence continued to give me an odd mixture of anticipation and repulsion.

“Go away, Lamang,” I muttered, walking towards my bed.

“You’re the one who opened the window,” Khine pointed out.

“Do I have to throw a bucket of cold water on you?”

“I happen to know you don’t have one handy.”

“I have a chamberpot. It’s full.”

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty.”

“They could arrest you for this, you know,” I pointed out.

“The bastards should just kill me and be done with it.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“Who’s they, Khine? Because between Ozo, Ryia, and Yuebek, I can think of about a thousand reasons why they would.”

“They wouldn’t do it now, with the whole nation’s eyes on you. They’d make it look like an accident, at least. Poison in your food, maybe throw scorpions on your face while you slept…”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to scare you into coming with me,” Khine said, holding out his elbow and patting it. He gave a sheepish grin. “Come on. They won’t miss you for an evening.”

“You tell me that every night. We’re not in the empire anymore, Khine.”

“I know we’re not.” Khine’s face grew sombre as he reached for my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know this may be one thing too many, but this…this is the last night of the vigil. They’re lighting the pyre at dawn.”

“They won’t let me see him,” I said. “I already asked.” “They don’t have to know.”

“What will they do if they find you here? They did worse to Agos, and he—” I swallowed back the rush of tears and allowed my eyes to linger on his shoulder. His wounds had healed weeks ago, but the ones I could see near his neck were still pink. “You’re still recovering from your injuries, too.”

“That? It’s nothing a brush with the assassin didn’t fix.”

“You never even told me what happened with her.”

“I survived. That’s all that matters, Tali.” Khine squeezed my shoulder, and a rush of warmth surrounded me. “You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” he whispered, his voice as soothing as it had ever been. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You owe it to him, Tali. The man loved you. He died for you.”

My insides knotted at his words. I had never considered it that way before. Whatever I had with Agos was…a mistake. I glanced down, my eyes on the cracks of the floor as I tried to will away the image of Agos’s corpse on his funeral bed, the once-strong body now covered in arrow wounds, decaying with every passing moment. Did I need a better reminder of what my choices brought to the world? Everything I touched turned to ashes. But he was right. As much as I wanted to turn back time, to have Agos back untainted by the shadows that followed me, it was already done. Like a river, time could only flow one way. The least I could do was honour it.

I turned around to change into warmer clothes before following Khine through the window.

It had been years since I last scrambled over the rooftops of Oka Shto. What had been one of my favourite childhood pastimes did not seem becoming for the wife of a future king. Actually, Arro had often told me that it wasn’t becoming for the wife of anyone, period. “And I’m supposed to turn you into a queen…” he’d often mumble under his breath after catching me chasing cats with Agos.

It occurred to me that I was left without both of them now. Oka Shto castle without Arro and Agos felt empty. I fought back another incoming sob and focused on the grey horizon, where the first rays of sunlight were creeping over the city of Oren-yaro below. We reached the edge of the rooftops, which pressed right up against the mountain cliffs on the northern side.

“Why haven’t you been arrested yet?” I found myself wondering out loud.

Khine gave me one of his characteristic smiles. “You’ve so little faith in me. Do I look like a criminal?”

I stared at him.

“If you really must know,” he continued before I could open my mouth, “it’s your husband. He’s vouched for me and Inzali. We assisted him in the empire, and that means Jin-Sayeng should consider us friends. No one argued with him, so I assume that means they agree.”

“So suddenly you think you’re allowed to sneak around the castle.”

“No one said I couldn’t.”

“Your idiocy knows no bounds.”

“You and Inzali should catch up.”

I gave a thin smile as I ventured towards the narrow ledge along the cliff, right where it met the rooftops. I motioned for him to be careful. The ground was always a little crumbly here, especially in the summer. It was late autumn now, at the cusp of winter, and the rain had done its fair job of tearing the trail apart. I couldn’t recall it being so cramped. Dusty roots burst through the soil, brushing the top of my head.

“Agos and I made this path,” I said as we turned a corner, past caked, sandy soil that collapsed with every step. “His idea. They all kept a close eye on us in the castle. Made it hard even to breathe sometimes. So he found us a way to escape.” I paused, one foot in front of the other. It was a steep drop to the left. We had once been small enough that the thrill of freedom eclipsed the danger—small, and young, and fearless.

The ledge led to a small crag which dropped straight down to the main path. I managed a quick landing without making an embarrassment of myself and waited as Khine clambered down behind me. I supposed he didn’t want to miss his footing in the dark—the sort of man who needed to be sure of his next step, even as he hurtled after my recklessness.

“I didn’t realize you and Agos were that close,” Khine said as he came up to join me. “I knew you grew up together, but…”

“There were no other children in the castle. I think he found me an annoyance most of the time. I thought of him as an older brother. And then he left for the army, and I became busy with my studies…and with Rayyel.”

We fell silent as I wrestled with the memories. I thought I heard our laughter echoing between the trees, thought I saw shades of Agos and me as children running up the steps from the city. I swallowed, my tears burning in my chest like water swallowed too fast.

“I should’ve never taken things this far,” I whispered, the mountain a looming shadow behind us. Ahead, Oren-yaro sprawled like a rough blanket draped over the hills. Small pockets of mist drifted between the crevices and down to the valleys to the east. I felt my fingers shake and told myself it was just the cold. “If I had…found a way to push him away, perhaps he wouldn’t have taken it upon himself to try to protect us the way he did. His death is on me. I gave him hope when I shouldn’t have.”

Khine gave a soft sigh of resignation. “You gave him precious memories, which he took to the grave,” he murmured. “Tali, you know what I feel about…about you and him.”

“Do I, really?”

He smirked. “If you don’t, then I won’t burden you with it. But as a man of two minds about this whole situation, I can at least tell you that he wouldn’t have regretted a thing. He loved you. He was only doing what he thought was right. And you? You believed that, too. You cared for him, you found comfort with him—that is enough. There are no right or wrong answers. We make choices and then we simply…live with the costs.”

I fell silent again. We reached the city square, and he gestured at me to begin climbing the butchers’ warehouse near the market. Traversing the rooftops like cats, we made our way towards one of the poorer districts of Oren-yaro. I could see the River Agos gleaming behind the grey light in the distance and the slums continuing along the southern bank. The buildings were almost on top of each other here, a crisscross of shadows and dilapidated wood: roofs of rusted shingles instead of clay tiles, and stone fences embedded with broken glass on top to keep people out. Not that they worked, if our presence there was any indication. Khine once said that if you wanted to steal something and get out alive, you didn’t break down the front door.

“Down there,” Khine started when we reached an alley, and I had to struggle to keep my composure as I recognized the district from when we had arrived, swimming our way down the river. I wanted nothing more than to have the power to turn back time. Khine watched me as I sucked in a lungful of muggy air. “Are you all right, Tali?”

“Yes,” I murmured. “It’s just that…Agos was a captain, a decorated soldier of the Oren-yaro army. His pyre should be in the city square, where he could be honoured by his men and fellow soldiers, not in some dirty street corner. I did that. I tarnished his name. I ruined him.” I gazed down at the small square, where a group of people were gathered around a still form lying atop a pile of stacked logs. I suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

“They’re about to light it now,” Khine said. “It’s your last chance to see the body.”

The bells tolled just as flames lit up the streets. Through the blur of my tears, I saw the people walk towards the pyre. The first was unmistakably his wife; two little boys toddled in solemn silence behind her. Others followed; I recognized some faces: off-duty soldiers and castle staff. Some of them threw objects into the fire with him—small tokens, prayer beads, sealed letters containing their final goodbyes. I almost wished I’d had the foresight to write one myself. Not that I would’ve known what to say. Even now, my own thoughts seemed difficult to gather, drifting between memories of our time together and my revulsion over what my actions had caused.

Agos’s mother threw herself at the foot of the pyre and began to weep hysterically. His wife bent down to pick her up, murmuring something into her hair.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Khine whispered. “Honour could be found here, too. Look at all those people. What’s better than to be remembered? To be missed? He is a hero as far as they’re concerned.”

I steeled myself and climbed down the roof. Khine walked a step away, a thoughtful look on his face. I pressed a handkerchief above my nose as we joined the back of the line. We had barely shuffled in place when we heard a commotion from one of the alleys. The crowd parted, revealing guards in full Oren-yaro armour marching towards us. I stiffened, heart pounding. Khine drew me towards him, his hand cradling the back of my head in an attempt to hide my face.

The guards stopped several paces away, ignoring me as they assumed a formation around the pyre. There was a moment of silence before they bowed, faces solemn with respect. Another figure emerged. This one was in Oren-yaro armour, too, but in the green and yellow colours of the Tasho clan, with a warlord’s helmet that towered over the rest of his men.

“Ozo,” I hissed under my breath. I was torn between wanting to flee and lingering out of curiosity. Khine’s arm blocked me from deciding on the former, so I peered past his shoulder at the sight unfolding, my breath gathering on the folds of his sleeve.

The general’s movements were slow and deliberate as he made his way down to the pyre. He stopped about a foot away, close enough that the heat must’ve been uncomfortable. He removed his helmet and cradled it under his arm. Agos’s mother, Hessa, gave another cry. He made a sharp gesture without even looking at her. One of the guards pulled her aside.

I had wondered if this was an elaborate ploy to draw sympathy from the crowd, but Ozo gave no speeches—not a single word fell from his lips. He remained standing in silence, head slightly bent, eyes downcast. The flames cast dancing shadows on his face, deepening the lines. Eventually, he turned on his heel and, after one quick glance at Agos’s sons, began walking away. The guards followed him out of the square in single file, the cracked cobblestone quaking under their boots.

“Agos was always his favourite,” I murmured in Zirano. “He never quite forgave me when I sent him away. Now I don’t think he ever will. It must have grated to learn where his best man’s loyalties lay, let alone what he would die for.”

I turned my head as several people came up to console Hessa. “Ignore him,” they whispered. “You raised a good son. The gods have welcomed him to their domain.” They crowded around the old woman until I couldn’t see her anymore.

We finally reached the blaze. By now, the body was shapeless, no more than a lump of charred meat and bones in a sea of fire. It wasn’t Agos anymore. Guard, friend, lover…whatever he had been was long gone. I remembered that I hadn’t brought anything for the pyre and felt the pang of grief again. I never could really give him anything, could I? Not my heart. I tried, but you cannot will a heart to love any more than you could ask it to stop. The worst part was that he knew. He always knew.

Khine slid a sheathed sword into the flames, his brows knitted together. I recognized the sword Agos had lent him days ago, when we were cornered by the assassin in Old Oren-yaro. Like Ozo, he uttered no words. Eventually, he stepped to the side and gestured, and my thoughts drifted back to the pyre, to what lay within it.

Agos. I wanted to say his name out loud. I felt like if I heard it with my own ears, I could convince myself that a part of him lingered on. Small comforts. Not wanting to stir the crowd, I took my handkerchief instead, allowing it to touch my lips before I threw it into the flames.

“It’s the queen!” somebody cried. I froze. Khine drew his arm over me again. But it wasn’t fast enough. Recognition stirred on their faces. It felt like the moment before a thunderstorm—no rain yet, but a humming in the air, thick enough to make your skin crawl.

Agos’s wife reached me first. Her hand struck me with a sound that resonated through the square.