The Wolf of Oren-yaro (Annals of the Bitch Queen Book 1)

by K. S. Villoso

  “Nice weather,” I blurted out.

  Nor looked at me, and then up at the sky. “Grey,” she finally commented. “Best go inside before it begins to rain, my queen.”

  I had no desire to get wet and grudgingly agreed with her. Back through the arches and past the rosebushes, we reached the doorway. One of Deputy Qun’s servants took my boots. Despite their insistence, Nor didn’t relinquish hers, and they quickly left it at that; I had the impression that they had tried before. I suppose it was difficult to convince a soldier to wear silken slippers, even if she did track mud everywhere.

  “Which reminds me, Captain,” I said. “My handmaid—what’s her name?”

  “Has she done something wrong, Beloved Queen?”

  “No—nothing like that,” I said. “I just thought, since there’s only so few of us in a strange nation, that I might as well get to know everyone.”

  She blanched. “All the guards, too?”

  I resisted the urge to sigh out loud. “Start with the handmaid. She’s been under my employ for several years now, hasn’t she? She usually brought my meals.”

  “Kora, Beloved Queen. Aset gar Angjar. Priest caste. I believe she was deemed the safest candidate for this trip. I can request a report on her background and have it sent to you if you wish, though it might have to wait until we get home.”

  “I…that won’t be necessary, Captain.” I stopped in front of the door. “I desire a quiet nap before our meeting with Lord Rayyel. If you could just stand outside the door—I will call if anything tries to kill me.” I smiled.

  She found nothing amusing about my words. “The guard I had assigned to you early this morning is still missing. I’m hoping he simply couldn’t face the shame and decided to flee, but it still concerns me. Be on guard, Beloved Queen.”

  “When am I never?” I slid the door to her frowning face.

  “Please do not lock it,” I heard her grumble from the other side, just as I was about to lift the bar.

  I left the door unlocked, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked through the window. Out on the grounds, I spotted the twenty members of the Queen’s Guard—minus the one—busy with their daily exercise. The light drizzle cloaked their sinewy forms and flattened the fur on the wolf headdress that marked the Oren-yaro soldier’s garb. Their faces were blank, determined. I doubted that expression would go away even if you threw them naked into freezing snow.

  Unfaltering, dutiful, and loyal to a fault—these tenets are why the rest of Jin-Sayeng have labelled our people wolves of Oren-yaro, a term that started as an insult: these wolves, they like to say, these bloodthirsty beasts, these savages who will stop at nothing to fulfill their deemed purpose. But far from taking offense, we decided to embrace the title, bestowing the name “wolf of Oren-yaro” to those who are under the rule of the Warlord of Oren-yaro City. As a people, we all embrace these tenets, regardless of clan, regardless of caste, setting us apart from the rest of Jin-Sayeng who prefer to keep their ideals within their families or clan. It has created a unity never before seen in these lands. We know it. The others know it. It is why the Oren-yaro is as feared as it is revered; the strength of our resolution has toppled realms.

  Let me tell you a story. A long time ago, five hundred and twenty-six wolves of Oren-yaro died protecting Shirrokaru, the Jin-Sayeng capital and Ikessar stronghold, from warlords who rebelled. The rebels numbered over three thousand in number. By the end of the assault, all lay dead except for one: Warlord Tal aren dar Orenar. He stood in the middle of that battlefield, covered in the blood of friend, family, and foe, and held his position for over two days in case the enemy dared to return. When the Ikessar lord came to view the slaughter, Warlord Tal was still able to throw his sword aside and bend his knee before he died.

  I had no intention of bending my knee that day. But I thought of Warlord Tal, for whom I was named after, as I watched my soldiers out in the courtyard. I watched them go through the motions, their voices drowned by the torrent of rainfall, and thought that if Warlord Tal could do it—if he could fight a battle in the face of defeat and then stand strong between those corpses for the sake of never giving up his post—then I could do my part. I could learn to swallow the silence and face my husband again.

  Chapter Two

  Anzhao City, Marvel of the West

  The rain didn’t last for very long. Shortly before noon, I observed the clouds receding behind the gabled rooftops and the sun shining over the baked clay tiles. Something about the deep colour of the sunlight made me push open the latticed windows, allowing me to take a lungful of the rich, earthy scent of after-rain air. I relished in the warmth and forgot my troubles for a while.

  I heard three knocks on the door before it opened. Captain Nor strode in, a letter in hand. I could tell by the look on her face from whom it came from.

  “He’s probably changed his mind about meeting,” I said lightly, pretending that this wouldn’t hurt if it were true. I used my thumb to scrape off the golden wax seal, embossed with the shape of the soaring falcon that was the Ikessar crest. I recognized Rai’s crisp handwriting immediately, penned in a dark ink with a touch of red pigment. A familiar twinge of anticipation ran through me. I fought to suppress it.

  Rai wrote to me a lot in the early days of our courtship. He was not particularly romantic—most of his letters read like daily reports from my staff: what he ate that evening, news from all over Jin-Sayeng, the price of rice in the common market. I can still recall the first one, word-for-word: “Today, I took a walk on the southern shores of Shirrokaru. The rebuilding projects are going well. I am glad we made the effort to push through, after years of abandonment. Time has not been kind to Shirrokaru, but its people stand strong.”

  But once in a while, a snippet of emotion would leak through. “Do not let Warlord Graiyo’s words sting you. You are the Jewel of Jin-Sayeng, my future queen, and he must learn to respect that, or risk alienation from the other clans.” He was not given to strong declarations of love, but in those days, I relished his words just as much as if they came from a poet from the mountain city of Kyo-orashi.

  After he left, it took a whole month for his first letter to arrive. It was an angry letter, full of his misgivings about our relationship and his disappointment in how things had turned out. I have never read it in its entirety. It remained in a drawer in my desk in Oren-yaro, a stark reminder of my failures.

  I stared at the third letter he had sent me in five years and felt my throat constrict. I calmed myself long enough to read through the first line. When I realized that the letter did not contain the vitriol that first one did, I was able to read the rest of it.

  Nor stood beside me, waiting.

  “He’s changed the location of the meeting.” I folded the letter, pressing at the creases with my finger. “A restaurant called The Silver Goose. I have not heard of this place.”

  “I believe I saw it on the way here,” Nor replied. “My knowledge of Zirano writing is limited, unfortunately. I’ll have someone confirm.”

  She walked out. I looked down at the letter and realized my fingers were shaking.

  I observed the trembling digits with a measure of detachment. I found it funny how such a simple letter, devoid of emotion, could provoke such a response from me. Did I truly expect more? I had a different reaction when that second letter came, the one that asked me to meet him all the way out here in Anzhao City.

  I had just returned after an afternoon of riding my horse through the rice fields, surveying the damage caused by the last season’s storms. Arro was already waiting at the gates when I arrived. He wiped his hands on his beard and handed me the letter, which had already been opened—checked thoroughly by the staff, in case someone tried to poison me by sprinkling dust on the inside of the scroll that I might later inhale. The Ikessars loved to use such tactics—I had even lost a great uncle to it during the war.

  “What’s this?” I remembered asking, breathless from laughing because my dog was scraping mud
off his coat by rolling over the flagstone steps. I whistled. Blackie bounded to me, ears flopping every which way while his tail wagged so fast it felt at risk of falling off. I wiped my hands on my tunic before taking the letter.

  I read it once, and then a second time. I looked back at Arro and found my voice. “What do you think?”

  “The man who abandoned his position, who abandoned you, on the day of your coronation, has no right to demand to meet on his terms, let alone in a place as far as Ziri-nar-Orxiaro. I smell a trap.”

  “He insists that it is a safe place for us to meet. Anzhao City would be on neutral grounds, away from the warlords’ meddling.”

  “Easy for him to say,” Arro grumbled. Blackie came up to rub along his leg and he pushed the dog away in disgust. He tugged his tipped hat back into place. “Take my advice, my queen. Ignore it. The man disappears for the better part of five years, and then thinks that you will come running to him after a mere letter? Such arrogance.”

  I was silent for a moment. “The warlords…” I started. “A good number of them supported the Ikessars.”

  Arro snorted. “So they did. And so? They are content with whispers in the dark. None have dared challenge your position.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Whispers in the dark are still dangerous. Have we not learned that in the days of the Ikessars’ rule? They can roust the people, put ideas where they don’t belong. All it takes is one warlord to decide he’s had enough and get two more to agree with him. The rest will follow, and I will be yet another failed Dragonlord in this blasted land’s history.”

  “It’s like trying to take control of a pack of dogs. Just bark louder than the rest and you’ll be fine.”

  “And you’d know a thing or two about dogs, do you, Arro?” I asked, watching him try to avoid Blackie’s pestering tongue with a measure of amusement. Finally, I took pity on him and whistled. The dog returned to me. “The other warlords do not challenge me because Rai left on his own accord. But it doesn’t mean it will end there. Lately, they have turned to openly blaming me for his actions, and if word gets out that Rai sent word and I refused to answer, they will think I meant to hold on to the crown by myself. The idea of a wolf of Oren-yaro on the throne still frightens them.”

  Arro looked like he wanted to argue, but one of the things I appreciated about him was that he saw sense even when he didn’t agree with it. He tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I will convene with the others,” he said. “We will have to investigate this letter, and this Anzhao City, before we can make a decision.”

  “Of course,” I said. “But this is the first time in years that Lord Rayyel has agreed to talk to us. Regardless of our personal opinions, he remains of importance to the royal clans. Don’t do anything drastic—I will not have him frightened into silence.”

  Back then, the well-timed banter with Arro made it easier to pretend the entire situation was nothing more than political. But now, it was suddenly too difficult to ignore the truth: that I was a wife first, seeking to lay my eyes on my husband after so long. You could remove yourself from politics for a time, but when it came to matters of the heart? I was reduced to a mewling woman—to the girl who used to think her heart would explode simply because her prince glanced her way. My shaking made me feel like a weak-willed fool.

  Kora arrived, bearing the silk dress we had brought back from Oren-yaro. I had declined to bring jewels—the last thing I wanted was to lose them and bankrupt the Dragonthrone even more. She left these on the bed before accompanying me to the bathhouse. Arro may have liked to throw the word insolence around, but I think Deputy Qun had our best intentions at heart. The bathhouse was empty on purpose. I removed my robes and stepped into the water, which rushed in from lionbeast-shaped golden spouts and were kept hot by steam funnelled from a separate building. I could see no way to control the flow, although the water remained at the same level and was just the right temperature. I lowered myself up to my ears and felt my body regain its composure.

  I wondered if Kora noticed. I had tried to keep my fingers out of her sight—the last thing I needed were rumours of my instability, of my exhaustion from wearing the crown. It was not the rule that taxed me but the uncertainty of my situation. My father had not left enough guidance on how to proceed from the sort of dilemma Rai had forced us into. I think even he would’ve found it hard to believe that an Ikessar could be so petty.

  I rubbed my shoulder and tried to focus on the soothing effect of the hot water and the relief of having days’ worth of stench fall off me. Kora poured a small amount of oil and soap onto her palm and began to work my hair into a lather. I stared at the bubbles. Would Rai notice if I fixed myself up for him? I still wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to react to everything. Anger would be…unbecoming for a queen, but it was the closest emotion I could muster after five years. No matter the circumstances, he owed it to me to look back that day he left. One paltry glance, given momentarily, to tell me he didn’t really want to go, that he wanted me to tell him to stay.

  If he had, I might’ve fought harder for him.

  In the middle of my musings, I heard the door to the bathhouse open. I looked up, expecting to see Nor. Instead, an older woman in a robe appeared. My first instinct was to order her out, but I immediately stifled it. I was in a strange land, and the woman walked with a proud air that made me recognize Deputy Qun’s wife. Still, just in case, I dropped my right hand to grasp the hilt of my dagger, which I had kept beside me under the water. If things got hairy, I would at least have a reasonable chance of fighting my way out. Not that my rule had been this interesting, by any means—but if Oren-yaro’s history was anything to go by, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

  She walked past Kora’s shocked figure and paused at the steps to the pool. “If you don’t mind, Beloved Queen,” she said.

  I gestured, pretending that none of this bothered me. “It’s your home.”

  She gave a wolfish smile and slid out of her robes to join me in the water. “Your guard didn’t see me come in—we have more secret passages than we care to reveal. I’m not here to assassinate you, if you’re curious. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak with the Queen of Jin-Sayeng. I’m told your Zirano is excellent.”

  “It is one of the languages Jin-Sayeng royals are expected to be fluent in,” I said. Despite her words, I kept my hand on my dagger.

  “And Kagtar?” she asked.

  “We’ve had to since Dragonlord Reshiro Ikessar’s creation of the merchant caste. A nation does not open trade to the Kag people without learning their languages. We can’t expect the same courtesy out of them.” I sniffed. “You’ve come to discuss trade with me?”

  “Not particularly,” Qun’s wife replied. “Though it would be quite an accomplishment, wouldn’t it? That a mere Biala Chaen, a deputy’s wife, could re-open trade between The Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro and Jin-Sayeng, Land of the Dragons?”

  “We don’t have dragons anymore,” I told her.

  Biala’s eyes gleamed. “I’ve heard otherwise.”

  I smiled. “You’ve misheard.”

  “Misheard? That dragons have returned to your western borders, and are now—even as I speak—razing the Sougen rice fields, keeping your western lords on guard?”

  “As I said, you’ve misheard.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care about her opinion. Kora finished rinsing my hair. I gestured for my robes. “If we’re done here, Lady Biala, I have an important meeting to attend to. I’ll have to apologize for the abruptness of our conversation.”

  Biala regarded me with detached coolness. Something about that unnerved me; it probably had something to do with how easily she had bypassed my guard. They had been standing right outside the door. “I’ve heard about that. You’re seeing your husband Rayyel for the first time after his disappearance five years ago.”

  I clenched my jaw. “This isn’t supposed to be common knowledge.”

  “My
husband knows, so I think it’s reasonable to assume…” Her eyes lit up. “Oh. I see. I see. That is not how you function in Jin-Sayeng?”

  “I am a royal. Our duties come before our marriages.”

  “You make it sound so droll.” She scooped a handful of water with a golden ladle and allowed it to drip over her head. “You probably wouldn’t care to hear this, then.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Anzhao City is not as indifferent to the plight of your people as the rest of the empire. Here, we listened to news of your wedding to Rayyel Ikessar with much anticipation. A story such as yours…why, many a maiden in Anzhao were starry-eyed at the idea of two people who found love despite the circumstances of their arrangement. And it’s not every day that you hear about two Jin-Sayeng clans united in the same way yours were.”

  “Our clans were not united,” I said.

  “United enough, I would say. That your people allowed you to keep your title as Lady of Oren-yaro while remaining Queen of Jin-Sayeng was a bold move, and one we didn’t anticipate after that ridiculous war of that father of yours. Here, a member of the noble class would’ve had his whole family eradicated for such treachery.”

  “My father did what he thought was best for Jin-Sayeng. If you are implying he was a traitor…”

  “That was not my intent. I only meant that were he Zarojo, his actions wouldn’t have been swept under the rug.”

  “Then I’m glad he was Jinsein.” I pulled myself out of the bath and stepped towards Kora, who helped me into my robes. I took a towel from the rack and wiped my hands on it.

  Biala drifted to the edge, stretching her arms over the stone floor. “You are not quite what I imagined you to be, Queen Talyien,” she said. There was a coy look in her eyes.

  I regarded her with what I hoped was a casual expression. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Given what I have heard about you, I expected someone who would’ve put me in my place the moment I showed up in the bathhouse unexpected. Something, I believe, which would’ve involved unpleasant things—a public execution, punishments involving ants…”