“I won’t,” Huan said. “I’m not entirely sure he wants to be warlord anyway. Something about royals and commoners and the dividing line. If he works with us, I’ll entertain him. The bigger concern is what you’re going to find out there.” He nodded towards the mountains. “My brother hasn’t shown himself, and I’m beyond worried.”
“You and me both.”
“We need a Dragonlord,” Huan said. “More than ever. We need a symbol to unite this land. It’s not ready to function without it. If you can bring even just one of them back…”
“My dear,” Grana broke in.
Huan took a deep breath. “I know. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. But gods. I always knew this wouldn’t be easy—I just didn’t think it would be this hard. I just want our family safe.”
“We all want that,” Grana said. “Promise me that if things don’t get better, you’ll let me take us back to my father’s home. It won’t be cowardice, and they won’t attack Meiokara—none of them have the fleet to launch an assault across the sea.”
“There’s always that.” He glanced back at Khine. “Will you be all right on your own? I can send soldiers.”
“You need every single one,” Khine said, heaving himself into the saddle.
“I do, don’t I?” Huan laughed. He saluted. Khine kicked his heels into the horse and tore down the road.
Staying calm was now becoming more difficult, a feeling more dreadful than anything he had ever felt with his patients. What was he doing? It was like pounding on the chest of a dead man, hoping to bring him back to life. Everyone was about ready to give them up for lost. No one would think the worst of him if he did. Inzali had called him an idiot for his stubbornness.
“I’m fond of them, too,” she’d said back at Nor’s main camp, the one that used to belong to Dai the eve before they turned against Yuebek’s ilk. “But that was a doomed undertaking, and we all knew it. We’ve both secured the trust of these people, and if things improve, we’re looking at a good position for ourselves at their court. Why risk your life?”
“I think you need to go home.”
She looked reluctant. “I want them all to come back safe, but that’s not how the world works. It’s not like a litter of puppies. What we want and what we get don’t come from the same basket. You’re older than me—you should know that.”
“What has Mother’s death turned you into?”
“You need to ask yourself that, Khine. I just want her death to mean something. Slaving away for gambling lords in the slums won’t make that happen. You can do so much if you don’t piss your life away. You know what you’re going to find out there. You know what it’s going to do to you. Give it up. There’s nothing we can do anymore, and we’ve tried everything. When this is over, we can mourn them properly…”
He threw his hands up. “Gods, Inzali, I can’t do that! I’m not going to mourn what isn’t dead!”
His words were now coming back to haunt him. What if she is? Please, gods…
He was ready to start talking to the gods again. His mother’s loss had almost been too much to take, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go through that another time. Even if she hates me forever. I know what I did to her. I know it was a step too far. It had to be done, but…
Had to be done. Tough words to swallow. But they had been running out of time. The Zarojo they encountered on the road had been carrying General Mangkang’s head around. Ozo’s men, dead before Khine could hand the boy over to them. Where was he supposed to take him? Yuebek was at least one step ahead of them. It was all the soldiers could talk about. The prince knew something foul was afoot, that his wife’s refusal to fully entrench herself in their marriage was a clear sign she was keeping something from him. For all that the man pretended to be a dimwit, he wasn’t. Yeshin had done his best. All his precautions implied he knew how clear that demented mind could be. Pulling a con from beyond the grave would be a feat in itself already; to try to do it with a man as intelligent as Yuebek was more daring than Khine could’ve ever imagined. He would’ve been impressed if he had the time. As it was, if he didn’t find a way to warn Tali, or do something—anything—everything she had suffered for would be for nothing.
It wasn’t even Khine’s idea. It was Thanh’s. “We can’t run away forever,” the boy said after they escaped the soldiers. “What if we gave ourselves up?”
“Your mother will kill me, Thanh.”
“No, she won’t.”
“We’re talking about your mother, right? The Bitch Queen of Jin-Sayeng? That woman.”
“I just have the one.”
“Oh, good, because I thought you got confused for a moment there. She will kill me.”
“You said she’s trying to trick them. But they know they’re being tricked. What’s the point in hiding? It’ll only make them angrier. The last time Mother and I tried to trick the Ikessars into giving me a day free from my lessons, they knew, and they—”
His words lit a fire in his mind. “Gods,” Khine said, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and turning him around. “You brilliant child. You have your mother’s mind!”
“I do?”
“I hope you can act better than your father.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s a no, then. But you can keep silent, at least. What if we pretend the Zarojo are these Ikessar guardians of yours, and we’re trying to fool them.”
Thanh’s eyes brightened.
“There. You’re right. They’re onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before they turn this whole thing upside down, right on your mother’s head. But if we give them what they want—what they think they want—they’ll be too distracted patting themselves on the back. They’ll let their guard down. It’ll give us a chance to think of something new.”
That something new, of course, was a lot harder to find than he first figured. With Thanh in the shadows behind him, he decided to pay the Zarojo camp a visit in the hopes that a plan would reveal itself. It did, in the form of Jiro Kaz. Khine learned they were going to attack Dai’s camp that night and offered to make it easy for them. He knew people on the inside. They could just open the gates and let them walk in uncontested.
A sensible solution, and Jiro trusted him enough to ride ahead to carry this through. He warned the mercenaries of the impending attack and embellished the number of Zarojo soldiers to triple what they really had. Most immediately split, including the injured. And because some of the mercenaries made their way to the other camps to tell their friends, there was very little resistance elsewhere.
One nail in. The next came the next day. Khine went straight to the river just as the rest of the Zarojo finished crossing, where he convinced Lo Bahn to take him to Yuebek. The man almost didn’t want to entertain him. He grovelled, said he knew things the prince had to know, and then showed them the boy as a show of trust. He was granted an audience. And in speaking with Yuebek, he realized exactly how deep of a hole they were all in.
His gut was correct. The man had guessed Yeshin’s plans after seeing the tear in the sky. It filled him with a cloud of resentment and suspicion. Tali’s disappearance, followed by Ryia Ikessar’s attack on his forces, only deepened his doubts. He meant to kill her the next time he saw her. He was going to make her confess, and then he was going to kill her.
Before Khine began to reconsider, Yuebek changed his mind again.
No. He wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He was going to pretend to go along until he conquered the city. And then he was going to let his soldiers take turns raping her before doing it himself. He could kill her then, right in front of her whole court. Spit on her stained body. He didn’t even really want her kingdom.
Khine saw red. Had to hold himself steady. Had to. Had to. He repeated this to himself over and over again before he stood up and admitted that she, too, had fooled him. They were lovers before she ran off to get married, picking up right after the last one. Agos, him, Yuebek—she was using them all
. Yuebek had every right to be angry. But didn’t he know her reputation? Didn’t he know she could turn his own men against him, too? She had that power, and men were weak.
There was a better way to put her in her place, if Yuebek was smart. Give her what she wanted—but on his own terms. Why waste all his efforts? Why demand what she couldn’t give? Nothing stopped him from taking what he wanted. He could still be king, even with a wife that hated him. He could take his time, break her over the years, make her regret ever standing up to him. Marriages and dynasties had been built on less.
Yuebek almost agreed with him. Almost. Looked at him then, dubious, his own mind poisoning him every which way. He was just like the rest of them, all those merchants and gamblers Khine had fooled over the years—already on the edge of that gap that stood between where he was and what he wanted. All he needed was a push.
“The boy,” Khine said. “Bring the boy with you. He’s the key to her obedience. Don’t hurt him, but always make her think you will, and she is yours. She’s not as strong as she makes herself seem. Her past husband, the boy… weaknesses she should have cut off long ago. She will bend. Maybe not easily, but she will bend.”
He hated the words falling out of his lips. Hated how he had to smile at Yuebek, waiting for him to see things from the stilted perspective he offered. What kind of a man knows exactly how to hurt someone he loves? How can you ever look at her again? If she buries you for this, let her. It will be exactly what you deserve.
“I will take my men—” Yuebek began.
He interrupted with a wave of his hand. “My lord, your men will only complicate things,” he said. Inzali’s letter had told him they suspected Yuebek drew on his men for sustenance. Not just any men, but his soldiers, specifically. She said Namra suspected rune tattoos had been forced on the soldiers during the trip across the empire. Illegal blood magic, like he did to the elders, like he did to Mei. Yuebek committed sacrilege as easily as a man batting his eyes. Khine wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands, but even if he had the means to do that, even if they didn’t need Yuebek up on that rift, he wouldn’t be able to. To kill Yuebek, he had to be on his own, unable to leech off anyone’s strength. “Do you think she would rest for a moment if she knows your soldiers are around? I’ve told you what she’s capable of. Are they castrated, Esteemed Prince, that they can resist her wiles? She can use them the way she used us. No. You and her—you need to be alone so she can’t turn your guards against you. She won’t try anything if her son is there. What power can she have over you with the boy as extra weight? They’ll have nowhere to run in that wilderness. Go with them alone. Relish the moments. Conquer her nation, and then conquer her. It will be worth it, my lord, believe me. I’ve had but a glimpse of it. You could own it all your life.”
With those words, Khine held the noose in his hand. He watched as Yuebek considered his words, watched as he danced over the possibility that it was still all a trick and he was a lamb being led to slaughter. But he wanted it too much. He hated and wanted her all at once, he wanted her kingdom, he wanted the power that came with having the Bitch Queen on a leash. He wanted to lord it over the woman who dared defy him so greatly he would die for it.
Too blinded by his rage to see the holes in Khine’s logic, Prince Yuebek stuck his head in.
Khine saw that first dragon-tower under a clear blue sky. Half of it was crumbling, and it seemed almost impossible that it was still standing after all that damage. Nearby, chained to two trees, was Yuebek, half naked, covered in dirt, foam around his mouth.
Khine approached the tattered figure.
Yuebek turned to him. “You!” he snarled. “It’s you! Shang Azi scum—unchain me!”
“What happened here?” Khine asked.
“I’ve done it!” Yuebek howled. “She didn’t even think I could, but I did. I did it, and then I came back. What did they think I was? That I could jump into a dragon’s body without making a connection back for myself? That I wouldn’t tear their assassins in half while I had the power to soar the skies? Did they think any of this would kill me? Idiots, all of them. Idiots!”
“Where is she?”
“She is blind to the agan!” Yuebek exclaimed. “Lying, snivelling bitch. She thought she had me. But where is she now? Dead in the bottom of the sea. And me? I’m still here. My poor wife, we can always say she tried her best. Maybe I’ll stay after all! I’ll be Dragonlord of her nation! What are you doing? Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Esteemed Emperor’s Fifth Son, the Esteemed Emperor’s most beloved son! If you kill me, you’ll never become a physician again!”
Khine stabbed him in the heart with a dagger.
Ah, he thought, watching as blood burst from Yuebek’s mouth and his body slumped against the chains with one final shudder. So that’s how.
It did get easier, after all.
CHAPTER TWO
THE MEMORY CHAIN
The horses watched him warily as he rode down to the edge of the forest. Khine caught sight of Tali’s scarf stuffed haphazardly into a saddlebag. He knew it because he had given it to her. Lent it, actually, during their journey through the Ruby Grove; he had covered her mouth with it and somehow never got it back. He didn’t know she’d had it this whole time.
He made himself take the scarf out. Her scent was all over it, strong enough that it felt as if she was right beside him. Suddenly, the courage that had taken him all the way out here dissipated. She was real, not just some figment of his imagination. More real than Jia had been all those years he had wandered through her neighbourhood after she left, searching for her ghost or whatever it was he thought could make him feel better about the things he’d done. He thought he caught a glimpse of that when he first saw Tali that day, on that same street in Shang Azi where he’d screamed those last words at Jia and swore to himself he would never love again.
Funny how that worked.
Tali—that unpredictable, infuriating, unrelenting woman—had accused him of seeking that shadow, had shown him exactly how foolish she thought he was being. To die for love was easy. And she had been right. He had been running away. He hadn’t known how to separate her from what he thought he still felt about Jia, or what she signified, what a person like her was against the dirt and muck of his world. But the night she left him for Agos, he had stayed awake and forced himself through what he knew was happening down that hall, through the anger and jealousy and rage to find something unexpected. To die for love was easy, but to live for it? To forgive, to understand, and love anyway…
It was a gift. The one thing he needed to pull himself out of the haze of near-death, both inside and out. She didn’t know that the Khine who loved Jia would’ve never spoken to her again. She didn’t have to. It already unsettled him that she accepted what he was without question. She could have her pick of princes—of kings and generals and other better, more accomplished men. He was just a thief, a quack. A liar. She knew what he was, knew better than to trust him, but she did.
He heard what sounded like gusts of wind, one after another, and turned to see Eikaro descending on the clearing. He looked—well, dragons didn’t have much in the way of facial expressions, but Khine pretended he looked sad. Thinking about it was a good distraction; he was already on the verge of tears.
He went up to him, hesitating before he tentatively tapped the dragon on the nose. “Lord Eikaro,” Khine said. “What do I do now?”
The dragon huffed, glancing towards the horizon before draping one wing to the side.
“You want me to ride you?” Khine asked.
Eikaro didn’t move. Khine drifted to his side and noticed that his wing was wounded and stuck oddly together. He lifted his hand to touch the ragged flesh.
“I’m not sure you should take my weight, friend. You need to heal.”
Eikaro nudged him with his tail, sending him toppling forward towards his shoulder. “Fine,” Khine said, clambering up. “But don’t blame me if you start flying crookedly. Not that a fraud
would know a damn thing.”
The dragon made a sound that could’ve been laughter before taking to the air.
They left the horses behind and made their way past the forest, and then a lake, the edges of which were wrapped in chunks of ice. Off in the distance, Khine spotted another dragon-tower and a campfire.
Eikaro made a wide circle around the tower before dropping down.
Khine walked to the campfire, which had been built right at the entrance to the tower. There was a man standing outside. He drew his sword as Khine approached.
“Rai,” Khine said. “It’s me.”
“I know. I saw.”
He held his hands up. “I’m a friend.”
“You will have to forgive me if I don’t agree.”
“What happened down there was—”
“Another trick?” Rai asked, glancing at Eikaro, who was limping up towards them, wings curled partway. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“You can ask Thanh. It’s civil war now, Rai. All the other provinces are marching towards Yu-yan. The Zarojo are losing, but they need you down there. Both of you.” He held his breath.
“She…” Rai began. He lowered his sword. “Come and see for yourself.” He stepped to the side of the entrance, beckoning.
Khine stepped through the threshold and saw Thanh and the priestess bent over Tali’s unmoving body.
Hope. Forget hope, Tashi Reng Hzi used to say. It’s like prayer. It’s all well and good when you’ve got nothing else, but for the moment, pretend that there is something, and that something is you. You’re the gate and death is on the other side. Stand firm.
He dropped down to her side, reaching for her hand. It was very cold.
“What happened?” he asked, turning to Namra.
“She fought a dragon,” Namra said.
“Tell me something new,” he croaked out, trying to make light of things.
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 68
