The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “Where is she now?”

  “Slunk back into the mountains.” Lo Bahn gave a nervous giggle. “How fast can she gather an army? Sounds to me like the bitch’s got clout in your little nation. Ong warned the prince not to take her lightly. The prince had him beaten for his insolence.”

  “Even my father couldn’t kill that persistence.” I turned, hearing Rai take a deep breath.

  “My queen,” he croaked out, as if having just woken from deep slumber. “You’ve returned. You…” He trailed off, looking at me with bloodshot eyes full of uncertainty. He must’ve thought he was talking to a phantom.

  “He can’t treat you like this,” I said. “I’ll get you out of here, Rai.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Lo Bahn commented. “Hope can be the most painful thing in the world.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE COURTSHIP

  I could’ve told Lo Bahn he was wasting his words. I knew that already, as well as I knew the memories I swore to lock behind me forever. But I had no intention of making this promise empty. I returned to be queen, not simply to pander to Yuebek’s desires. If he wanted to be Dragonlord, he needed to treat the nobility with care, Rayyel included. If nothing else, my husband deserved a clean death.

  I squeezed his arm, which had grown remarkably thin since I last saw him, and pulled away. But I didn’t ask Lo Bahn to take me to Yuebek immediately. First, I grabbed the shovel from the kennels and went back to the grove of trees where Yuebek had killed my dogs. Lo Bahn watched silently as I cut each of them down, bonds and all. My heart was all the way up to my throat and it was difficult not to recoil from the scent of rot and old urine, but I forced myself through the motions.

  Eight dogs in all, each as stiff as a board. Only eight. Some were missing, but I didn’t stop to think about what else might’ve happened to them. Three of the bodies I didn’t recognize—they were young, born after I left for Anzhao. The way their bones jutted out, the lack of muscle along their hindquarters, and the clumps of hard feces matted on their fur told me they hadn’t seen much of the outside of their cages, if at all.

  The things that fall to the wayside when we focus on the unattainable. Life could exist, even thrive, in the fringes of what we consider important. I should’ve paid more attention. I buried them in death with the reverence I never gave them in life, knowing I was going to have to make a habit of this. To hold the grotesque close, awash in memories of everything I loved. My mouth tasted faintly of grave dirt when I was done. I wiped it with the back of my arm, sweat pouring down my face. The sun was high in the sky, sending a clear light that made the shadows from the now-bare tree branches dance.

  Lo Bahn cleared his throat. He hadn’t uttered a word the whole time I was shoveling dirt. Apt, I suppose, that we had made a habit of burying the dead since Shang Azi. I should’ve asked him to join me, but it was something I needed to do myself. My life, my dogs. Their deaths were on me. I took a deep breath, unshed tears stinging my eyes.

  “You should probably wash up,” he said. There was a hint of concern in his tone. “You can’t present yourself to him like that.”

  I glanced at him, holding the shovel like it was a sword. The temptation to strike Lo Bahn and bury him with my dogs, then go down to the castle to do the same to Yuebek, was strong. But I didn’t want to taint the sanctity of their graves. People like us—we belonged in a garbage heap. Instead, I turned away. Just as I came down the path, I heard a whimper.

  I sucked in my breath as Blackie emerged from the bushes, limping. I dropped to my knees. He grabbed my sleeve with the front of his teeth and buried his nose in the fold of my arm, breathing in deeply, as if asking where I’d been, what was wrong, why did it take me so long, he thought he had lost me forever. I ran my fingers through his dry coat. His shoulders were laced with crusted wounds, his claws were filed down to the quick, and his fangs were broken. But despite his injuries, the joy exuding out of him was pure; his tail beat against his gaunt hindquarters with as much vigour as it had when he was a young pup. Whatever I had done to him and his kin, whatever useless thing I was chasing out there only to end up bringing this foul beast back with me… none of it mattered. I was home; all was forgiven.

  My tears leaked out. He licked them before they could run down my cheeks. I wanted to sob into his fur, but held myself. I couldn’t let myself be undone by a dog before I’d begun.

  “That one,” Lo Bahn said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t think he’d come back. Take him away before the prince sees him. He broke those fangs on the prince and kept coming. Prince Yuebek won’t forget that easily.”

  “Good dog.” I scratched his face. “You got him, didn’t you? You crazy bastard.”

  He whined at my voice, beating his tail against my leg as if my praise was music to his ears.

  I started down the hill, whistling. He rushed to follow me. But he was so weak that he toppled two steps in, so I braced myself and picked him up from the ground, lifting him over my shoulders. Blackie was a big dog, and the last time I carried him was well before his adolescence. Even just placing his paws on my knees was enough for me to think he could crush them. The fact that I easily could carry him spoke much of the neglect he had suffered the past few months. He pressed his paw on my arm as we came down the path. What was I doing? He could walk. If I just gave him another moment, maybe two, he’d prove it. As if realizing he wouldn’t be able to change my mind, he turned to licking my ear.

  Yuebek’s soldiers were waiting as I emerged into the courtyard. I could see them glance at each other with uncertainty, wondering if they should alert their master. I almost wanted them to. Let him come out. Let him defend his actions. Let me wring my hands around that pristine neck, too polished to be real…

  I focused on breathing, ignoring the oily scent of dog hair under my nostrils and the strain in my arms. I caught Ozo’s eye as I walked past him. He stood aside, as if he understood what I was doing. Every heavy step I took filled me with courage.

  I carried Blackie all the way down to the barracks. An Oren-yaro officer appeared to see what the commotion was all about. I handed the dog over, and ordered him to take care of Blackie with the sort of voice I used to tell people I was going to chop their heads off. He looked at the dog’s injuries with horror on his face and didn’t even try to argue. We all knew what was at stake, but we couldn’t forget our humanity in the process. For what else were we fighting for?

  As I returned to Oka Shto, I heard Blackie call after me with a low moan, a howl that struck my bones. It sounded like he was saying goodbye.

  Ingging and Yayei took over from Lo Bahn. Both handmaidens were quiet, subdued, and clearly frightened out of their wits. Ingging slipped pouring water into the bath, while Yayei brought the wrong kind of soap at least twice. They refused to meet my eyes. I noticed bruises on Yayei and didn’t want to ask who laid a hand on her. Yuebek, Yuebek’s soldiers, why did it matter? Ozo must’ve told them the same things he’d told me. Bear it. This is bigger than all of us. We are, each of us, a sacrifice for the greater good. A wolf of Oren-yaro suffers in silence.

  So, they said nothing as they went through the motions of transforming me from a bedraggled woman into a queen yet again. They cleaned dirt and blood from my fingernails, trimmed my hair, scrubbed my skin smooth with pumice and oil. I sat at the edge of the bath with my feet in the water with only a heavy piece of cloth draped around my shoulders and wondered why I should even bother. Even without a mirror, I could see the pale lines running over my sun-darkened skin. My hands alone had more scars than most people had on their bodies.

  I gave a grim smile. My father wasn’t infallible. Even without the scars, I was already too old. You use fresh meat to bait beasts, not gristly meat—I held no trace of the young, desirable beauty he must’ve dreamed of when my mother gave birth to a girl child. I didn’t think Yeshin ever considered that I would be a match for Ozo in my prime. If not for the power I represented, I was sure Yuebek wouldn’t
even bother. It worked in my favour that he really didn’t want me. He wanted what my hand in marriage could do for him. We’re beyond your scheming, Father. All of that disappeared the moment you died. I am nothing like what you wanted, and yet here I still stand. Maybe the gods have not given up on me after all.

  Or so I tried to convince myself, working to gather courage over the thought of facing him without the barbed words I’d used to shield myself in the past. But it was hard not to remember that first night I spent in Zorheng City, how Yuebek had pawed at the door I had the foresight to block. Rape to subdue, rape to terrify… if things never went much further than that, I think I could manage. I’ve been told you can harden yourself to such things. Close your eyes, count in your head, maybe think of a song. Anything to pretend you’re not there. I wasn’t a virgin. I’d been with men. There was no longer anything mysterious or terrifying about the act.

  But if he wanted more…

  I covered my mouth with my hand, trying not to vomit into the bath my maids had worked so hard to fill.

  “Beloved Queen,” Ingging whispered over my shoulder. “Your dress is ready.”

  “Forgive me, Ingging.”

  She looked at me, confused.

  “I met Liosa.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” Ingging replied. “That’s all in the past. None of that was your fault.”

  “Isn’t it?” I asked. “I came from that damn union. I don’t know what’s worse—the girl who wanted so badly to be mother to a queen, or the old man who knew better than to indulge her because it would be the sweetest vengeance of all.”

  “My queen…”

  I wiped my mouth. “I need you to find the best herbalist in the city. Whatever that monster does, I will not carry his child in my womb. I’d sooner kill myself.”

  She pressed the back of her fingers against my cheek and bowed, withdrawing.

  “Beloved Queen,” Yayei broke in. “Is this necessary?”

  I sucked in my breath before slowly nodding.

  “But—”

  “Your Lord Rayyel,” I said, changing the subject. “Who takes care of him?”

  “Prince Yuebek’s soldiers,” she replied. “But they won’t let us near him. They don’t even like us talking about it. One time, Ingging yelled at one after he went back to fill that infernal bucket a third time during the day when they’d been ordered to do it only twice, just to see what would happen, and he…” She swallowed and looked away.

  “Is that all they’ve done?”

  “They beat him when they first arrived,” Yayei breathed. “Tied him to one of the trees out front. Stripped him down, lashed him until he bled. Prince Yuebek was waiting for him to cry out. He said he would stop if Prince Rayyel would just cry out.”

  “He didn’t, of course. The stubborn fool.”

  “They tried to starve him,” Yayei continued. “But the Ikessars do that to themselves for fun…” She almost laughed, and stopped herself just in time.

  “It’s true.” I shook my head. “When did they put him in the kennel?”

  “When the starving didn’t work, Prince Yuebek threatened to have him torn apart by your dogs. He… I’m sorry, Beloved Queen, but he ordered us to starve them, too. One of the guards later told me all Prince Yuebek wanted was for Prince Rayyel to acknowledge him as his superior. He wanted Prince Rayyel to kiss his feet. When he still wouldn’t do that, they poured kitchen grease all over him and then dragged him down to the kennels in rags. Prince Yuebek opened the cages himself. He was laughing like a madman, taunting them. Taunting your husband. The dogs were snarling.

  “They rushed out as soon as the cages were open. We thought they would tear everything in their path apart. But Beloved Queen, your dogs didn’t hurt Prince Rayyel. They crowded around him, licking him, tails wagging. Even after weeks of starvation…”

  “He’s my husband,” I said in a low voice. “They’re my dogs. Blackie would remember him. Yuebek is an idiot.”

  “Yuebek was furious his plan didn’t work. He came stomping for Prince Rayyel and we thought he would kill him then, but your dogs turned around and went after Yuebek like hellhounds. They were out for blood. The old one, Blackie—he tried to go for his throat. I thought for a moment that he did rip it out.”

  I stared at the water. “He didn’t, though. It wouldn’t have been more than a scratch to Yuebek.”

  “It was strange,” Yayei said. “He tore the dogs from him as they attacked before trying to get away. He toppled down the steps… and he fell.”

  I tried to conjure the image in my head. It was difficult. Even thinking I’d killed him that first time couldn’t convince me the man could ever fall.

  “I was sure he was dead,” Yayei continued. “He was bleeding. He started calling for one of his men—Ong, I believe the name was. But no one came. And then he grabbed the foot of a soldier and then…”

  She swallowed.

  “What happened, Yayei?”

  “I’m not sure, Beloved Queen,” she said, shaking her head. “He got up again and there were no wounds on him. The soldier, though, was convulsing on the ground. I think he died. They made us go away after that, but I’m sure he died.”

  My senses darkened. “Yuebek is…” I couldn’t finish it. My mind turned to another image: of my dogs charging him, drawing blood, almost succeeding. Almost. A foolish courage, but it was courage, still. Was I capable of the same? I didn’t return here with my tail between my legs. But I thought about what we needed to happen after he had closed the rift. We needed him to die. How were we supposed to kill him? I had stabbed him in the heart, watched with my own eyes as the fear of death flushed over his porcelain face. Yet here I was, getting myself ready for him, dreading every passing moment.

  “Lord Ozo says we have to embrace our new lord.” Yayei swallowed. “It can’t be true, can it? He’s really not going to stay here forever? Even your father wasn’t—”

  I got up, stepping away from the bath. “The dress, Yayei,” I reminded her in a curt tone.

  Her cheeks flushed. She bowed, rushing to get it ready.

  Even your father wasn’t like this. It wouldn’t have been the first time the castle was forced to entertain the whims of a foul-tempered master.

  But the comparison made my skin crawl. I thought about this as I made my way from the back door and then down to the great hall. Judging from his letter to me, my father’s distaste over Yuebek came with enough respect in return—enough for him to remain cautious.

  Yeshin knew he needed Yuebek—needed his abilities as a mage, and the power and influence even a younger son of an emperor can hold. But I had the impression that my father really didn’t think much of Yuebek until he met him himself. Until that first visit to Zorheng, Yuebek was a story, the sort you tell little girls to make them grow up prim and proper so that they’d never be given to such a man. My father seemed to have thought it the easiest thing in the world to manipulate him into accomplishing what we needed him to do. Only after they had spoken in person did Yeshin understand exactly how delicate the operation needed to be. For the gods to bestow such a vile person with wit and untold power was beyond comprehension. The letter told me that Yeshin barely got out of Zorheng alive.

  Listen carefully, Talyien…

  He didn’t go over the details. Rayyel would’ve written me a novel about every single thing, from the time of the day to what he ate every morning, but my father only told me enough to warn me. Yuebek was a gracious and generous host in the beginning. He welcomed Father to Zorheng with open arms, begging him not to bow—no, we were sister cities now, Oren-yaro and Zorheng, pledged together long ago. Just during my father’s war, in fact. His poor mother—now so ill, and kept locked away in the capital of Kyan Jang for her own health—had told him of how Warlord Yeshin first made correspondence with her. The highest of honours, that such a powerful warlord would bestow attention on such poor, humble servants of the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro…

  My father sensed an
ger in Yuebek’s words and sought to find the source of it. Yuebek was not pleased that my father had set him aside in the first place, let alone that a mere bastard was allowed to sully me. My father reminded him that I was too young, only ten years old. Yuebek interjected, claimed he wanted to marry me immediately. My father had to lecture him about how our government worked—that the agreement was that my marriage to Rayyel would allow both of us to rule together. Otherwise…

  Yuebek grew increasingly impatient. Furthermore, he seemed obsessed with my virginity, which my father deflected as best as he could. He offered to have Rayyel killed; my father rejected it. Enraged, Yuebek had him seized.

  Yeshin didn’t say what happened afterwards. If what Yuebek had done to Rai was any indication, I assumed he was tortured. Somehow, Yeshin managed to convince Yuebek of his hatred for the Ikessars—perhaps not the most difficult thing in the world—and that he was genuine in his desire for an alliance. I would rather bed with Zarojo mongrels than Ikessar snakes. It made me shudder to recognize that I was the currency that exchanged hands during this delegation.

  My thoughts died as I entered the great hall and beheld Yuebek sitting on my throne, a bored look on his face. In all the times I had seen him before, he wore an expression of sheer delight and amusement. Now he regarded me as one might regard a piece of dirt. There was no one else in the hall, and yet Yuebek and the disgusted look on his face was presence enough to fill a thousand seats.

  “I offered you my heart,” Yuebek said, “and you shat on it.”

  I approached him, each footstep echoing through the empty hall. “My lord—”

  Yuebek laughed. “Spare me the pleasantries. I know what you really think of me.” He turned to me, eyes sharp. His face remained immaculate, with not a single sign of the dogs’ attack on him. It was almost as if he was made of wax and his mages had simply… molded him back to the way he was. Except now I knew better than to believe that. I had not seen other mages the whole time I was at court. I glanced at the veins running along his neck, a thin web of blue that contrasted with his white skin. I wondered what was healing him. Something kept him alive when by all rights he should be dead.