by Claire Luana
“You sound as meddlesome as your mother,” Hiro remarked.
Kai laughed and held up her hands. “All right, I’ll let it go. For now.”
“Speaking of letting things go,” Hiro said, turning to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Ryu said he smelled a stag in the clearing up there.”
She blushed. “Tell him to get his nose checked.” She tapped her horse’s flanks with her heels and trotted back towards the citadel.
The sun loomed large and red over the brown farmland as the hunting party made their way out of the forest. Cooler autumn weather should have settled over Miina a month ago, but sweltering summer hung on with a vengeance. Kai had dressed for the heat in a loose white wrapped top and light brown trousers, her silver hair knotted in a bun under a wide-brimmed hat. Nothing helped. She could have been naked, and it would still have felt as if she were riding through an oven.
The farmland around them served as a testament to the stark devastation of the drought. Fields that should have been filled with green crops ready for harvest instead sat brown and dusty under the oppressive heat. While the hunt was an opportunity for her to bond with her subjects, it also served a practical purpose. The citadel would need all the resources it could get to survive the coming winter without the crops and plenty it normally relied on. Every little bit helped. Kai thought briefly of the stag she had let go, but then banished it from her mind. The bony creature would do little to stave off the hard season they faced ahead. She was glad she had let it live.
It was as if their world itself was rebelling against them. Last winter had been bitter, cold, and long, and then the land had skipped spring entirely, roaring straight into a sweltering summer. It hadn’t rained in months. Crops hadn’t stood a chance. Her people couldn’t feed their families. Frightened whispers of a new disease, a spotted fever, was sweeping through both nations. It was supposedly highly contagious—skin-to-skin contact was enough to spread the disease. Only a few cases of the fever had been reported so far—on the outskirts of Miina—but those cases had been fatal. These new enemies she faced were not flesh and bone. How could she fight them?
Kai had heard whispers already. Her mother and advisors had tried to keep them from her, but she wasn’t blind. Her people were saying that the gods were displeased with Kai’s ascension to the throne and the peace between Kita and Miina. Word of the Oracle’s prophecy, spoken the night of her coronation, had spread.
“And in the reign of Kailani Shigetsu, daughter of Azura, there will be a great war. A war of gods and men. For Tsuki and Taiyo are displeased with the lands of Kita and Miina, and only one side will remain standing when it comes to the end.”
People were whispering that the only way to break the unnatural weather cycle was to return to war with Kita. Kai wasn’t sure what would happen to her in that scenario, but she didn’t think it would be pleasant.
Emi slowed her mare down to match Kai’s pace. “You wear your worry plainly, Your Majesty,” Emi said softly. “Best to not let them see it.” She nodded towards the nobles.
“A good reminder, Emi; thank you,” Kai said. “And speaking of reminders, how many times have I asked you to call me ‘Kai,’ not ‘Your Majesty’?”
“You think just because you’re queen, I’ll listen to you?” Emi said, a ghost of a smile passing across her face.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kai said.
“This will pass,” Emi said, growing serious. “It has to pass. Soon we’ll stand in the rain and laugh about how worried we all were.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Emi gave Kai a sympathetic smile and nudged her horse’s flanks, rejoining the other moonburner guards, who were riding ahead with the nobles.
Kai rode alone for a while, Quitsu silently trotting at her side. It was how it was to be queen, she realized. To be surrounded by people yet always alone. She shot a furtive glance back at Hiro, who was bringing up the rear of their column, chatting with Ryu, his lion seishen. Maybe not alone. If anyone understood the demands of ruling, Hiro did, as crown prince of Kita. If anyone could love her as queen and as herself, it would be him.
They neared the farming settlements that dotted the land outside the city of Kyuden. To her left was a stout house, the wood of its walls faded and shrunken with age. The house was surrounded by a dusty farmyard, vacant but for one sorry-looking chicken. It’s much like the house I grew up in, she thought wistfully. Solid and functional.
“Get off the road,” a high-pitched male voice called from ahead.
“Please,” said a sobbing female voice, hardly coherent. “My husband.”
Kai urged her horse towards the commotion. There was a woman in the middle of the road sitting on her knees. Her dirty face was tear-streaked and wreathed in greasy black hair. A threadbare dress that once might have been pink hung from her thin frame, tied tight with an apron. The nobles’ horses danced back from the woman, no doubt picking up on their riders’ unease at being so close to a commoner.
Emi had dismounted and was trying to help the woman stand.
Kai swung off her horse and strode to join Emi, taking the woman’s other arm. “We have to get you off the road. Then we can talk about your husband.”
The woman nodded and stood shakily with their assistance. “He’s sick. He’s so sick.” She was near hysteria, her eyes darting to and fro. “I thought you could heal him. With your moonburning. You have to help him.”
Emi and Kai sat the woman down on a bit of brown grass at the side of the road, leaning her against a fence post.
“I have medical training,” Kai said. “I will look at your husband, and we will send a healer for him if we can help.” If the man was truly ill, there wasn’t much she would be able to do without supplies or herbs. But at least she could evaluate his condition and give the healer she assigned her diagnosis.
“Thank you,” the woman said, gripping Kai’s hands tightly.
Kai wriggled from the woman’s grasp, standing.
“Your Majesty.” One of her master moonburner guards approached, an older woman with thick silver eyebrows. “I have to advise against this. We don’t know what his condition is. You should not risk yourself.”
The peasant woman’s eyes widened as she realized who Kai was.
“Thank you for your suggestion, but I did not ask for your permission,” Kai said.
“I must insist,” the woman continued. “It is our job to keep you safe.”
Hiro approached from behind her, putting a broad arm around Kai’s shoulder. “You should know by now that the queen will not be dissuaded when she has decided upon a course of action. I will accompany her. She will be safe.”
The moonburner guard’s thick brow furrowed, but she nodded her acquiescence.
Kai ground her teeth in frustration. How was it that Hiro commanded more obedience from her own guards than she did? She knew he meant well, but she would have to talk to him later about undermining her authority. He was not in charge here. She was. And she didn’t need him to protect her…
She was getting worked up now, and there was a sick man to see. She shook off her annoyance and smiled at Hiro. “I would welcome your company. Let’s see if we can help him.”
The smell of disease struck her like a stiff wind as they walked into the farmhouse. Hiro placed an arm over his mouth, breathing through his shirtsleeve.
“Open the windows,” Kai instructed. “Let’s get some airflow in here. Fetch some clean water. And the wife. I need to know his symptoms.”
Hiro handed her the water flask that hung on his belt and saw to her other orders.
Kai sat gingerly on the edge of the bed next to the man. He rolled about in the tangled sheets, deep in his delirium. He was thin but wiry with salt-and-pepper hair and a face deeply lined from a lifetime of sun and hard work. His ragged trousers and worn shirt stuck to him, soaked through with sweat.
Kai felt his forehead and let out a gasp. He had a raging fever. Despite this, his color was pall
id and his lips were almost blue, as if he were chilled to the bone.
Hiro returned with the man’s wife.
“How long has he been like this?” Kai asked.
“Two days, Your Majesty,” the woman said.
“Was he exposed to anything?”
“No, I don’t think so,” the woman said, desperation in her voice.
“Did he receive an injury? A wound or a bite? Could it be an infection?”
“No,” the woman said. “But he does have some strange marks.”
“Show me,” Kai commanded.
The woman knelt next to the bed and unbuttoned her husband’s shirt.
Kai hissed and stood up, backing away from the man into Hiro.
“What is it?” Hiro asked.
The man had red-ringed marks covering his chest and stomach.
“We’re leaving,” Kai said. “We will send a moonburner healer for your husband as soon as we return to the citadel,” she told the woman. “Keep him well hydrated and as cool as you can until she arrives.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, still on her knees. She tried to grasp Kai’s hands, but Kai jerked back involuntarily.
Kai swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, striding from the farmhouse.
“Mount up,” Kai called to the hunting party, who had dismounted and were fanning themselves by the side of the road. “We head back to Kyuden.”
Kai swung onto her mount and trotted off, leaving the rest to follow. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She willed it to slow.
Quitsu leaped from the ground onto the saddle in front of her. This was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t startle her horse anymore. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Hiro approached from the other side. He had put the pieces together. “That was the spotted fever, wasn’t it,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t know it had spread this far.”
Kai nodded, refusing to look at him. “Neither did I.” Her voice sounded hollow. “The only reported cases came from the outskirts of Miina.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Hiro said. “We’ll find a cure before it infects too many.”
“We’d better,” Kai said. “I touched him.”
CHAPTER 2
The hunting party reached the citadel an hour later. Kai felt fine, despite being worn out from the hunt and the heat of the day.
“We don’t know for certain that I’ll get it,” Kai had said, more to reassure herself than Hiro. She couldn’t afford to fall ill with Miina in such a precarious position.
Hiro had opened his mouth, no doubt with a concerned but nevertheless patronizing lecture about taking unnecessary risks. Thankfully, he had shut it. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said. “Whatever happens.”
Gratitude had welled in her. There was no criticism he could have leveled that she wasn’t already berating herself with tenfold. It had been a foolish risk to tend to the man herself. But the only other reported cases of the fever had been hundreds of leagues from here. She had only wanted to help.
Kai stifled a sigh as she dismounted and handed her horse to a servant.
“I’m going to give the news to my council,” Kai said to Hiro. “I’ll see you later?”
He nodded, concern etched across his tanned face. “I’ll come check on you.”
Kai blew him a sorry little kiss and turned to Emi. “Will you find a servant to gather my council? We have work to do.”
The queen’s council met in a long rectangular room lined with parallel rows of high windows. It housed a polished wooden table flanked by high, stiff-backed chairs, and the whitewashed walls were decorated with tapestries bearing scenes of grisly battles plucked from the annals of burner history and lore. Kai sometimes glanced at those tapestries to remind herself of the cost of a wrong decision. Or even a right one.
Kai stood in the corner of the room near her usual chair to put more space between herself and her advisors. One by one they filed in.
Her mother, Hanae, formerly Azura, arrived first, her graying hair pulled into an elegant bun that complimented her neatly-tailored lavender gown. She took the seat to Kai’s left.
Next came Nanase, headmistress and armsmistress of the Citadel, known reverently by students as the Eclipse. Her stern face was covered in a sheen of sweat. Judging by the leather armor she was removing and depositing on the floor next to her chair, she had been summoned in the middle of a sparring round. Her silver eagle seishen, Iska, flew through the doors after her and perched on a bookshelf in the corner of the room as Nanase dropped into the chair next to Kai’s mother, blowing out a deep breath.
Nanase was soon followed by Quitsu and Master Vita, Quitsu moving slowly to match Master Vita’s shuffling steps. Master Vita’s bright white hair looked even more disheveled than usual. He struggled to pull the big chair out from the table and lowered himself into it gingerly, leaning his cane against the table. He was still weak from his near-death fight with consumption, but he had been nursed back to some semblance of health by Hanae’s skilled hands.
The last member of their council came in a few seconds later proceeded by her silver raccoon dog seishen. Chiya and Tanu padded to the final chair at the table. Chiya straightened her navy uniform and sat down, tossing the end of her silver ponytail over her shoulder. Tanu curled up at her feet. Chiya had healed from the bolt of lightning Queen Airi had struck her with at the now infamous Battle at the Gate, though she had lost the baby she had been carrying. Kai had appointed Chiya to a teaching position at the citadel and to her council. Despite their former animosity, Chiya seemed committed to the citadel and to serving her queen. More importantly, Chiya would not hesitate to call Kai out if she failed in the least bit to act like the ruler that Miina deserved. She needed that sort of honesty.
“Should we see if we can get General Ipan in the bowl?” Nanase asked, nodding her head towards the silver basin of water that sat quietly in the middle of the long table. The enchanted bowl allowed the council to communicate with whoever possessed its twin, which happened to be General Ipan, head of King Ozora’s sunburner forces. He participated in many of their regular council meetings, keeping them apprised of the situation in Kita. He had provided valuable intelligence and sage advice thus far.
Kai shook her head. “What I have to say is not for his ears.”
Nanase shrugged, fixing her hawklike gaze on Kai. “What’s going on?”
“There is no easy way to say this. We saw a man on our way home from the hunt today with spotted fever. The disease appeared to be advanced. We need to send a team of moonburners to keep him and his wife quarantined and to try to keep them from infecting any of the neighboring villagers.”
Her council looked at her, stunned. “So close?” Master Vita asked. “I can’t believe it has spread so quickly.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kai admitted. “I touched him. I might be infected.”
For a moment, four sets of unblinking eyes stared at her, words temporarily stolen by the shock of Kai’s statement. Then they all started talking at once.
Kai held up her hands to quiet them and they grudgingly obliged.
“We don’t know that I’m infected. But to be safe, I’ll need to be quarantined. We can’t risk anyone touching me until we know whether or not I have it.”
“We must find a cure,” Nanase said. “I will charge our best healers with this task.”
“I agree,” Kai said. “Unfortunately, despite our other issues with the famine, we need to make this a top priority. If the disease reaches the city, people will start to panic. Start with the man and woman I found today.”
“We will have to keep your quarantine a secret,” Hanae said. “You normally do your weekly ride through the city. We can say you are praying and consulting with experts to discover a way to end the drought.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Hanae’s right. We can’t let this get out,” Chiya said. “The people’s confidence in your rule is already at an all-t
ime low.”
Kai winced.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Chiya said with grudging respect. “But it’s true. There have been demonstrations in Kyuden, people in the squares saying that the drought and the fever are punishment from the gods for your peace with the sunburners. There are rumors that those who would see us return to war are rallying.”
“That’s insane,” Kai protested. “Have the people forgotten so quickly what the war was like? Sons drafted and sent to the front lines like fodder, crops requisitioned for the crown, villages indiscriminately attacked and burned?”
“People can be shortsighted,” Hanae said. “Their lives are a struggle to get from one day to the next. It’s hard to look at the bigger picture when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from.”
Kai massaged her temples. “You’re right, of course. I just wish we could make them see sense.”
“You can’t fight this kind of superstition with reason,” Nanase said.
Master Vita spoke softly. “Perhaps it is time for us to address the leviathan in the room. Is it superstition? Or are the gods targeting us? Are these natural disasters their doing?”
Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
Chiya spoke first. “The Oracle’s prophecy is hard to ignore. She said there would be a war between us. She was right about the eclipse before the Battle at the Gate. Why would she be wrong about this?”
“Perhaps it is just figurative. We will be battling the forces of nature and such,” Hanae said.
“What does Roweni say?” Master Vita asked, referring to the moonburner Oracle by her given name. He looked pointedly at Kai.
“She says that she sees real…gods. A battle. She doesn’t think it’s figurative.” Kai spoke reluctantly. She knew the reason for that look. For the thousandth time since Kai had heard those prophetic words, she thought about telling the rest of her advisors what she had seen. General Geisa and Queen Airi had used a blood sacrifice to summon the goddess Tsuki, but not the benevolent goddess they all worshipped—a dark twisted form of Tsuki intent on suffering and destruction. Kai had no problem believing that the creature she had seen would try to destroy the burners—or to incite a war so the sun and moonburners destroyed each other. Master Vita had seen this dark Tsuki’s destructive appetites firsthand. But Kai wasn’t ready to tell the rest of them yet. Because telling them meant actually considering a return to war. And so she had sworn Master Vita to silence. They would continue to bear this burden alone.
