The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  I was so close I could smell the rotting-mothball scent of him. I placed my hand on the throne’s armrest.

  Yuebek turned to me and scowled.

  “I have been a terrible queen,” I said, the words stinging as I spoke them. “I see that now, my lord. I escaped you because I didn’t want to accept the truth—that I’ve been weak, a woman beating my head against an oaken door. My influence is a drop of water in a barrel of wine. My own soldiers won’t even listen to me. They continue to follow my father’s will.”

  “And now I’m supposed to believe you’ve seen the error in your ways and have come slinking back to me?” he spat out. He laughed. “You’ve all but made it clear that I disgust you, Queen Talyien.”

  I gritted my teeth. “It wasn’t disgust, my lord. But a woman in my position—well. To understand that I need a man to save me after all, when I’ve been convinced I didn’t need anyone’s help… is an uncomfortable position to be in.” I tried to touch his arm, but couldn’t bear to, and ended up curling my fingers on the throne. Breathing the same air he did was too abhorrent already.

  He leered at me. “And you expect me to believe that? Did you think I was born yesterday, Queen Talyien?”

  “I think you are an intelligent man,” I said. “Intelligent enough to know, too, that your movement is hampered without my support. I hear you’ve been playing warlord.”

  He turned his head with a snort. “Playing. Of course! What else do you do here? You’ve no arts, no culture… everything you have out here is a poor mimicry of the Empire’s might and history. I tried to attend one of your tiresome plays. Talentless actors, a nonsensical plot, music that grated my ears… how have you people survived all these years? No wonder you turn to war to amuse yourselves. It’s pathetic.”

  I grabbed my anger by the throat, forcing it back. “There are other theatres, of course.”

  “I went to the one your general recommended.”

  “I’m convinced General Ozo has never stepped foot inside a theatre. But I believe it doesn’t make a difference. You’re not here to discover Jin-Sayeng’s cultural authenticity. You’re here to become Dragonlord.”

  He turned to me, a thin line of disgust on his face. “That title,” he said with a sneer. “I’ll admit—the very sound of it excited me once. Better than a mere husband to the daughter of some backwater governor. But maybe I don’t want this after all. When I was a boy, my father promised me an empire where the sun will never set, an army that can trample continents. This? Your war-torn nation is nothing but a collection of squabbling nobility and mindless peasants.”

  “Did you start thinking this before or after Princess Ryia unmanned you?”

  He lifted his hand to strike me. I saw the movement and could have avoided the blow if I wanted to. Instead, I let it land on my cheek, on my mouth, hard enough to cut. Blood dripped from my lip.

  “Your people—” he snarled. “Your people know nothing about how to treat true royalty. Look at you. You claim to be deferring to me, but you have yet to kneel. Do you think you are better than me, my queen, I with the army that could crush yours? I, the real emperor’s son, compared with you, a mere warlord’s daughter? What right do you have to look at me like I am less than you are?”

  I bristled. My knees felt locked at the joints.

  “Kneel, Queen Talyien,” he commanded. “Now!”

  I could feel the shadows pressing against me as I finally dropped to the ground, my hands and forehead on the cold wooden floor of my own throne room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  PRENUPTIALS

  Yuebek began to laugh.

  It was nothing to me. I convinced myself it was nothing to me. Pride wouldn’t save us. Pride wouldn’t save my son. I heard him stand up and fought against the instinct to defend myself. If he decided to rape me in the great hall, no one could stop him, me included.

  Eyes shut, I also fought back the onslaught of memories I wanted to reach into for comfort. You are already dead, I told myself, burying all desire to be back in the Sougen, to be back in Khine’s arms. Dead as the corpses of the last war, as dead as the ones piling up now. Dead the moment your father decided to sacrifice you for the greater good. The dead don’t feel anything, Talyien. So feel nothing.

  The ground quaked as the doors swung open. Soldiers stomped in, their armour clinking. “Prince Yuebek,” General Ozo said. “Queen Talyien.”

  I rose to my feet as he bowed to each of us in turn. Yuebek looked irritated.

  “A messenger has just arrived. Princess Ryia is at our borders. She brought… friends.”

  “Whose army?” I asked.

  “Ikessar supporters from the north, I’ve been told. Darusu has also stirred. Warlord Hhanda aren dar Hoen has allied himself with the princess and has lent her his full force.”

  I cleared my throat. “She’s managed to repair relations with the Hoen clan?”

  “Momentarily, so it seems,” Ozo said, bristling.

  “To have been a fly on the wall during those negotiations.”

  “Crush them,” Yuebek said, returning to the throne. He slumped down the seat. “All this is squabbling between ants.”

  Ozo licked his lips. “I would rather we speak with them first. The queen has returned; she can formalize her accusations concerning Lord Rayyel.”

  “He’s confessed,” Yuebek snapped. “What need is there for that?”

  “The need to have an intact army at the end of it all if your plan is to seize control,” Ozo said. “If the entire nation bands against us, we’re done for. This would’ve all been for nothing.”

  “This prattling bores me,” Yuebek replied.

  “There’s also the issue with the Oren-yaro bannermen…”

  “I thought you had them under control,” I said.

  Ozo ran a hand over his forehead. “Your disappearance has led a number of your foothill lords to… question… what is happening.” He was deliberately softening the words. Question probably meant they were on the verge of stabbing each other. “You need to unite them under your rule once again.”

  “And how, pray, am I supposed to do that? Considering you’ve done everything within your power to weaken the influence of that rule?”

  He snarled. It was somewhat amusing to see him hold himself back.

  I turned to Yuebek. “General Ozo is right. We need a formal trial. That’ll stay Princess Ryia’s hand. The Ikessars do everything according to law. Or at least, that’s what they want people to think, something even your presence in this land won’t change. If you want to unite Oren-yaro’s lords…” I swallowed. “The best way to do it would be with a wedding.”

  His eyes danced towards me. I wasn’t sure if he looked amused or even more irritated. His eyebrows were raised, but his mouth was turned into a scowl. “So,” he said. “You really are that desperate, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t disagree. A stranger was sitting on Oren-yaro’s throne, and here we were: Yeshin’s daughter and his right-hand general both cowed, heads lowered, eyes not really settling on one thing. I heard Ozo take a deep breath. “What are your wishes, Beloved Queen?”

  “Announce the trial,” I said. “For that, you need to begin treating Lord Rayyel as befitting his position.”

  “I’ve treated him exactly as befits his position,” Yuebek snapped. “Better, in fact. Bastards like that have no business pretending to be someone of importance. I told his mother as much. Rallying an army simply because I spoke the truth—you people are hopeless.”

  “What you’re doing to him—what you may have already done to him—won’t serve our cause,” I replied. “Show the people you are capable of respect. Put Rayyel in a proper prison, at least. There’s one in the barracks.”

  “That’s too far away.”

  “Lord General Ozo will see to it that he doesn’t escape.”

  Yuebek gave me a scrutinizing look. “Do you still love him?”

  “I don’t see what that question has to do with—”


  “Do you still love him?” Yuebek repeated.

  “No,” I replied easily. “Of course not.”

  “Then why do you care what I do to him?”

  “Our politics demand it,” I said.

  “You demand it. General Ozo doesn’t give a damn. Isn’t that right, Lord General?”

  Ozo inclined his head to the side, as if he agreed but didn’t seem to want to open his mouth to do it. Was it because he was afraid how I would react? I struggled to remember a time when I trumpeted both my rage and my love for Rayyel from one end of the land to the next.

  “You will let him go,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure. “Lord Ozo, rally the lords. We will speak with them during the engagement party.”

  “Presumptuous bitch. I haven’t even decided if I still want to marry you,” Yuebek said.

  “You have,” I replied. “You’re still sitting on that throne.”

  “It’s a comfortable seat, but not as comfortable as my lap.”

  I stared at him. Even Ozo looked startled.

  Yuebek began to laugh again, a sound that sent shivers up my spine. And then, without another word, he lurched out of the throne and glided past the doors, calling for his guards.

  “You push him too much,” Ozo told me as we were left alone in the great hall.

  “You want him to believe I’ve grudgingly accepted him,” I said. “Not that I’m pretending. A castrated dog still bites.”

  “That’s what you think you are?”

  “No, that’s what you are,” I hissed under my breath. I turned back to the throne. After a moment’s hesitation, I placed myself on the seat. It was cold, as if no one else had just been on it.

  “Yeshin’s child,” Ozo said, shaking his head. I couldn’t tell if it was an insult or praise.

  “That’s what you want to see, isn’t it?” I asked. “Or are you just going to complain again, Ozo? If you wanted me to be demure, there’s hundreds of other royal daughters you could’ve dangled in front of his nose.”

  “You’re the queen. You’re all we have.”

  “How pathetic.” I turned away from him in distaste. “Your grandchildren…” I began.

  “They’re nothing until this is all over,” Ozo grumbled. “Safest place for them to be. If they’re nobody, they can’t be used against us.”

  “Is that why you never told your son he was yours?”

  Ozo’s face tightened. I found myself glancing at the scarred floor, where Agos’s sword had gone through while trying to pursue Rayyel. Hard to remember it was just this winter past. Time had lost all meaning. When you are holding yourself against an unforeseen future, everything becomes distorted. I glanced through the broken windows of my castle, counting what stars I could see, and for a moment imagined that things had not changed much at all.

  I remembered holding court here. How there was always an Ikessar representative or two making sure I was adhering to their laws (the land’s laws, they called it), in addition to Magister Arro and the rest of my own advisers. I did nothing that wasn’t recorded several times over, and argued and deliberated upon in the coming weeks, never mind if I did it on a whim. Offer assistance to a peasant woman who just lost her husband and they’ll tell you that we don’t have the resources to do it for everyone else—if one family must starve to stop the riots of a thousand others, then so be it. Threaten to kill a warmonger and they’ll whisper repercussions in your ear.

  A bird screeched outside. The doors opened and Yuebek walked in, dragging a chain. Rayyel was attached to the other end.

  I didn’t move.

  Yuebek shoved Rayyel forward. He was so weak that he toppled over easily.

  “Do you care if I kill him?” Yuebek sneered.

  “You’ve been threatening that for months,” I said. I pretended to stifle a yawn. “If it’ll make this all go away, then by all means, bury the bastard. But I’m not your problem here. The Ikessar army at our borders is your problem. I don’t care what you think about this man—he’s still their heir. The uncrowned Dragonlord, as far as the rest of the land is concerned.”

  Yuebek gazed at me, a smile on his lips. How well could he read expressions? I still cared about Rai’s well-being, but the desperation was gone. Even he had to see that.

  He pressed his foot against Rai’s back, pinning him to the ground. “He doesn’t seem to feel pain,” Yuebek said, cocking his head to the side like a curious dog. “Is he man, or stone?” He kicked the crumpled figure. Not a single sound erupted from Rai. His eyes were staring at the floor. It was as if he had disappeared completely inside of himself.

  “I’ve been married to him for years,” I said, looking at Rai’s hollowed face. “Stone is an appropriate description. What’s the point of trying to break him, Esteemed Prince? The gods know I’ve tried to do it our whole marriage through. There’s nothing inside of him worth finding.”

  “A woman scorned—” Yuebek began.

  “So I was,” I said. “All the more reason for you to believe I’m willing to dissolve this marriage now. I gave this man everything I was asked for, and more. Too much more. We all marry for convenience, for alliances, because our parents were audacious enough to plan out our lives before we ever got a say. But you all know this was more. I loved this man.”

  A surprise, then. He wasn’t made of stone—not entirely. I saw Rayyel’s face twitch before his eyes slowly turned to me.

  “I loved him,” I repeated, staring back at him, knowing I wasn’t acting this time. I wasn’t lying. “From since I was a girl, too young to understand what I felt. He irritated me at first—my father’s upbringing had ensured I held no fondness for the Ikessars. But because I thought my destiny lay with him, I made myself fall in love with him. Or maybe I did. The line between my father’s orders and my own feelings blurred over the years.

  “I know one thing. Wisely or unwisely, I know I gave it all. You think you gave your heart, Esteemed Prince? That is nothing to what I offered this man. I was his to cherish or ruin, and he chose to ruin. Why would you think there was anything left? Now that I don’t have to be with him—now that I have a way out—why would you imagine that I, my father’s daughter, wouldn’t choose to take it?”

  “A magnificent speech,” Yuebek said with a smirk. “You do seem overly fond of them.” He kicked Rayyel a second time, fishing for my reaction. When he got nothing, he made a wide circle around the prostrate body. “If I kill him now, will you still marry me?”

  “I’d marry you, but I wouldn’t be very happy about the complications his death will bring,” I said lightly, tapping my fingers along the throne. “Do you want to be Dragonlord, Esteemed Prince? Or are you just a sadist?”

  “A sadist. I like that. No one’s ever called me that before. Not to my face.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Will you marry me with his blood on my robes, Beloved Queen? Kiss me with that between us?”

  Bile stirred in my throat. Without waiting for my reply, Yuebek turned around and clicked his fingers.

  His soldiers stepped forward and I readied myself. If he was going to kill Rai, I couldn’t very well stop him now. Does the end justify the means? I looked back into Rai’s eyes and realized he was still staring at me. Despite my resolution to see this farce through, my hands went to my sword. I couldn’t help myself. I could suddenly see something that wasn’t clear before. They were Thanh’s eyes—the very same colour, a soft shade of brown.

  I got up. But before I could do anything, the soldiers drew closer, dragging another figure behind them. Ingging.

  Yuebek grabbed her arm, yanking her up. “This one was caught sneaking back here,” he said. “I believe you know exactly where she came from. An herbalist, I’m told. Why so much secrecy, Queen Talyien? Were you planning on having trysts with your husband?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “And yet you say you don’t want him anymore. It’s me you want now.”

  I swallowed. “Of cours
e, Esteemed Prince.”

  “Even if I do this?” He laughed, his hand reaching for her throat. My eyes widened as I saw his other hand rip her dress.

  She screamed. I tore down the dais to stop him. Ozo twisted me around, making me face the throne, his big arms holding me still, blocking me from what was happening behind us.

  “You will not do a damn thing,” he said in a low voice. “Did you think my son was the last casualty?”

  “He should be!” I tried to strike him. Any doubts I might’ve had that he was truly Agos’s father disappeared; even for his age, the man was just as strong. He didn’t budge even as I shrieked and struggled and bit him so hard I drew blood. Behind me, Ingging’s cries bounced off the walls, as if each had a life of its own.

  I will not describe what happened in that throne room. I don’t think I have to. War has enough horrors to sate the most ravenous appetites, and the sum of Ingging’s life did not revolve around those moments. I will not revisit her pain to give weight and colour to my words, or sensationalize another person’s suffering to make a point. I didn’t write this to entertain you, and Ingging deserved better. I will say this: In those few, horrific minutes, I suddenly understood that monsters like Yuebek aren’t born. We make them.

  We make them when we hand power over to another. When we pull the blankets up to cover our eyes and pretend the world isn’t ours to change. When we take the gifts handed to us without questioning where they came from, how they were taken, who suffered to give us what we pretend is our due. We were all to blame for what happened there. And though nothing can change that this is the way the world works, I can at least allow myself to carry the weight. To do nothing is also a choice. We did nothing until it was too late and all we had left was a madman’s solution, sitting in the palms of another madman. The sins of the world lie in too many sparkling hands, washed clean of the blood they’ve shed. Even writing this is a sin. The stories we tell you, the stories we tell ourselves—they twist things, make the tangible insignificant, remove barriers between truth and fiction until nothing sounds real and everything is a lie.