The Girl King

by Mimi Yu

  “That is one idea some people are insisting on feeding him.” Min had a good idea who those some people her mother was referring to might be—one person in particular. “It’s absurd. He needs to stay here. Things being as they are, everyone is still gauging whether he is deserving of their loyalty. The court is full of snakes, and he must put in time courting those he can sway, and excising those he cannot. Controlling the empire means first controlling the capital. But there’s no reason why you and I can’t enjoy some time away while he settles things here.”

  “But … I’ve only just married. I’m not supposed to—I can’t leave my husband so soon. I need to stay here and help him”—Min’s voice faltered—“don’t I?”

  Her mother turned toward the vanity, setting the scattered bottles and combs there to right. “Like I said, Set is very busy, child. He has much to attend to.”

  If I leave, I can’t go to Yunis. And I won’t be there to help, and I’ll never be rid of this curse, this spirit, and I’ll never give Set an heir. But of course, she couldn’t begin to tell her mother all that. If her mother knew of the curse, what would she do? Min wasn’t sure, but she suspected it would not be helpful.

  “I don’t want to leave Set.” Her words came out thin and petulant.

  “That’s sweet of you, dear, but I worry the stress of all that’s happened is weighing on you. You do look so pale …” Her mother brushed the backs of her cold fingers down one of Min’s cheeks. “Some time away would be good for you, I’m certain of it.”

  The thought of leaving Set sat like a stone in her gut. It was silly, she knew, given the other worries on her mind. How little attention he paid her. Would he even notice her absence?

  I love him, she thought for the first time, and was pleased to find it felt right. What other words could explain the keening stretch of her heart, the thrumming want in the marrow of her bones? Her longing. Her loneliness. I love him, she repeated. Because she could. I love him.

  Yes, but are you ready to serve him? Brother’s voice whispered in her ear.

  “I can’t leave before Father is interred,” Min blurted, amazed at her own quickness. “That wouldn’t be proper.” She resisted the instinct to make it a question.

  A flicker of something rippled over her mother’s still, self-possessed face. It was gone, quick as a bird, before Min could grasp it.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” the empress sighed. “I will consider it further, but I think it will be for the best to send you away. Just for a time.”

  No, no, you don’t understand! Min felt fury burn her throat like bile. Her mother would consider it? What of what she, Min, wanted? Wasn’t she the empress now, after all?

  Lu would have fought. She would have shouted and swept the perfumes and hairpins and combs from atop the vanity. Perhaps broken the mirror had their mother persisted. She would have fought, and eventually, she would have won.

  Min’s eyes flicked over to the chair where she’d hidden her mother’s pin. Stabbed that lily of agate and pearl into the softly upholstered underbelly. Her mother followed her gaze, but saw only a chair.

  I can win, too, Min told herself. In my own way.

  CHAPTER 23

  Capture

  “The little ones are worth the least,” Nok said, pointing at the coins arrayed in his palm. Lu followed his finger with her gaze and frowned skeptically.

  “Half of them are the same size.”

  He considered. “Similar. But not the same.”

  “Didn’t you just say one of the bigger ones is worth less than the smaller ones, though?”

  “Well, they’re worth less than these smaller silver ones, but not the smallest.” He struggled to keep his voice patient and calm, well under the dull hum of the small marketplace. Even in a tiny village like this, flashing any amount of money around was unwise.

  They were standing in line waiting to purchase grain—the last item in Lu’s long list of supplies. Nok shifted uncomfortably under the heavy sack of woolens tossed over his shoulder. He’d removed the stitches from Lu’s arm in the morning and offered to carry their supplies to let her rest it.

  “I want to order this time,” the princess informed him. “I’ll buy the grain.”

  “You won’t even know how to pay!” he hissed.

  “You can pay,” she shrugged, all casual generosity. “I’ll just order.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “… The coronation was just last week, but already Emperor Set passed a new edict to expel the pink foreigners within a year.” The conversation of two old village men at the next stall overtook their argument; Lu turned sharply at the sound of her cousin’s name.

  “Didn’t I tell you he would make a strong emperor?” the second man was smugly saying to the first. “Frankly, I think it’s time we Hana reclaimed power. From the stories my great-uncles used to tell me when I was a boy, things were better under our control.”

  “Can we really consider this a coup for the Hana, though, I wonder?” said the first man, scratching under the red cap sitting snugly on his head. Nok watched with vague disgust as he pulled out a louse the size of an almond, then flicked it dispassionately into the street. “He’s an outsider coming in. How strong can his command over the court be?”

  “They say now that the coronation’s done, Emperor Set is coming back up north to the front, to lead the war against Yunis,” the second man said. “If that’s not a show of strength, I don’t know what is.”

  Nok looked sharply back at Lu, hoping to stop her before she did anything—

  “Excuse me?” she demanded loudly.

  —Stupid. Nok suppressed a groan. They were supposed to keep their heads down, mumbling and shuffling like bored peasants—attracting as little attention as possible. He fought to keep the rising despair and annoyance off his face.

  “Did you say the new emperor declared war on Yunis?” Lu asked the two men.

  They stared at her, gaping toothlessly.

  “Why, yes,” the one with the red cap and the louse said at length. Then, he chuckled. “For that raid on the prison camp. You young people should pay more attention to the affairs of state.”

  “When exactly is he coming?” she pressed, ignoring his condescension.

  “Well,” Red Cap’s friend said. “He hasn’t left the capital yet. But he’ll come soon enough. Everyone’s saying as much.”

  Nok and Lu exchanged dark looks. Did this mean he knew Lu’s whereabouts? Or did he simply mean to accelerate the pace of the war with Yunis? Either way, no good could come of it.

  “You call it strength,” Red Cap was saying to his friend, “but how can we have faith in a Hana reign if their scion immediately abandons his post? He’s all but leaving the capital to the Hu. The heavens only know what plots his new wife will get up to in his absence …”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” his companion assured him. “From what I’ve heard, this younger princess is little more than a child. Soft as down. No father killer like the Girl King.”

  Then he spat in the dirt, as though to express exactly how he felt about father killers and girl kings.

  Nok grabbed Lu’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said lightly. She whirled on him in mute fury, but he just pulled her closer as though in affection and forced a bland smile onto his face. “This line’s taking too long, darling.” He nodded back at the two old men in a manner that he hoped seemed natural.

  “I’m not done,” she protested.

  “I think you are.”

  When they were a safe distance away, she tugged her arm from his grasp. “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t need you watching over me.”

  “Tell me,” he said, shifting the bag of woolens to his other shoulder, “that there was no chance you were going to hit that old man. Go on. Tell me, and I’ll apologize.”

  She glowered at him but said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, and sighed. “Come on, let’s get back on the road b
efore it gets dark.”

  They picked up the horse at the stables, only to discover the town gates were closed, barring their exit. A wagon hitched to three massive, rickety wooden caravans stood in the central roadway, blocking the flow of merchants with their carts and farmers leading oxen. Nok craned his head to better see and glimpsed a row of men, all chained to one another, being prodded into one of the caravans.

  “What’s going on?” Lu asked a woman standing beside them. Nok frowned at her—could she go a minute without attracting attention?—but it was too late.

  The woman looked them up and down. A live chicken dangled upside down from one of her hands. “They’re clearing out prisoners from the jail to bring to the work camps up north,” the woman grunted. She was middle-aged, portly. The chicken was utterly still save for its yellow reptilian eyes, which flicked beadily toward them. “Good riddance, I say,” the woman continued. “Jail’s full, and they might as well put the criminals to work.”

  “But why’s the gate closed?” Nok pressed. Their low profile was a lost cause by now, anyway.

  “In case any of ’em makes a run for it,” the woman said, as though he was being intentionally stupid. “They’ll open it back up once they’re done. ’Til then, we can’t do nothing but wait.”

  A group of men in matching orange tunics stood at the edge of the road, overseeing the traffic lazily, like well-fed cats watching mice stroll by. Nok’s gut went cold. “Are those imperial soldiers?” he whispered to Lu. He didn’t recognize these particular uniforms, but perhaps they were some rank with which he wasn’t familiar.

  Lu’s head whipped around to follow his gaze, but her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw them. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her newly shortened hair flicked about her chin. “Well, not really. They’re local police. They must be helping out with this prisoner transfer.”

  Nok chanced another look their way. A mistake. Soldiers, police, it made no difference. They were all predators by training if not by nature. And like any predator, they could sense when they were being watched.

  The orange tunic closest to them locked eyes with him, then turned to whisper something to the officer next to him. Nok looked away, but not before the first man started toward them.

  “Dammit,” he cursed. “They’re coming this way. Walk faster.”

  Lu surged forward, pushing into the crowd. Nok grabbed her by the elbow.

  “Walk faster, but don’t look like you’re walking faster,” he hissed.

  She narrowed her copper-flecked eyes at him. “I hope you just heard yourself,” she muttered. “What do we do?”

  “Just … act like everything’s fine.”

  “Everything is clearly not fine—”

  A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Hold up, there,” the orange tunic said, spinning Nok around. Lu stopped beside him, clapping one hand protectively around his wrist, the other still clutching the horse’s bridle. They were blocking the road, but the crowd moved around them, indifferent as a river flowing around a rock.

  Not their business, Nok thought bitterly. He couldn’t blame them, though; he would do the same in their position. Would happily trade places with any of them right now.

  “Stay,” the officer told him, all lazy, casual power. He lifted the horse’s head by the chin, inspecting its eyes, its teeth, before passing an appraising glance down the lean length of its body.

  “This is a fine stallion,” he said when he’d finished, deigning now to size up Lu and Nok. “Far too fine to belong to two village kids. Who’d you steal it from?”

  “It belongs to our master, sir.” Nok bowed his head, playing the part of the cowed peasant that he was. He glanced at Lu, willing her to do the same, but she was looking boldly at the officer with a disagreeable set to her jaw.

  The officer noticed, too. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He caught her face in his fingers and held it up for evaluation, just as he had done with the horse. “Who do you work for?”

  “Wen, the cobbler,” Nok said quickly, praying the town was large enough to have more than one cobbler, or at least one coincidentally named Wen.

  “Wasn’t talking to you, boy,” the officer said. He snorted, smirking at Lu. “A cobbler’s servant, eh? Waste of a nice girl. Why don’t you come work at our barracks instead? Do you know how to cook and wash?”

  “No,” Lu said coldly.

  “Well, I’m sure we could find some other use for you,” the man leered, patting her hard on the cheek before running a dingy gloved finger over her lips.

  Lu’s eyes ignited in outrage. Nok held his breath, waiting for her to draw back and punch the man in the throat, or maybe snap his errant finger in half. Instead, he saw the fire in her eyes temper, then dim. She lowered her gaze, swallowing hard.

  Nok should’ve been relieved; he felt sick.

  “Come on, now,” the officer cajoled, stepping in closer. “Don’t be shy.” He grabbed her chin again, wrenching her face up toward his own. “How about a kiss and I’ll let you go?”

  “Don’t touch me, you dog,” Lu snarled, her patience worn through. She twisted to the side and pulled from his grasp.

  The man’s face went from slimy to metallic in an instant. “What did you say to me? You thieving little bitch; I should arrest you right now.”

  His fist came down toward her.

  Nok’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the wrist. He knew he’d made a mistake before he even felt the man’s coarse leather glove beneath his fingertips, but it was already too late.

  The officer was bigger, stronger, but Nok caught him off guard and he faltered. For half a heartbeat, none of them moved.

  Nok dropped his hand like he’d been scalded.

  The first blow took him on the cheek. It was more a swat than anything; the man hadn’t drawn back far enough for it to hurt much, but the second caught him on the ear hard enough that his whole head rung with it.

  Run! he tried to shout at the princess. Maybe he said it aloud; it was hard to tell. If she had any sense, she’d know to—

  “Leave him alone!” Lu jumped between them, pushing Nok behind her. The officer’s closed fist caught her full in the face. She cried out, but rolled with the blow and somehow did not fall.

  Nok closed his eyes against his own pain, and when he opened them again he saw that the other orange tunics were rushing toward them, plowing through the crowd. The officer leading the way looked older, seasoned. Someone in charge.

  The men yanked them apart. One pushed Nok to the ground, his face sliding in thick mud, flesh catching on stones, tearing. Then he felt the stark, unforgiving cold of manacles going around his wrists.

  “Go!” he shouted with the last of his breath.

  A boot stomped into his back. He struggled to look up, caught a glimpse of Lu putting up her hands as two other men approached with manacles. Crazy girl, he thought in despair. She should have run while she had the chance.

  “You’re both under arrest,” the initial officer snarled. “For stealing the horse and for striking an officer.”

  I didn’t hit you; you hit me, Nok wanted to say, but instead he heard himself choke out, “Which prison are you taking us to?” The urgency in his voice betrayed his fear—quivering, pathetic.

  He knew the answer. He could see it again, see it all. The work pits, the endless rows of soldiers flashing steel and whips and manacles. The dirty gray canvas lean-tos the soldiers had erected to house their prisoners, dotting the barren land like a cruel simulacrum of the tent villages he had grown up in. He remembered now, too, the smell … crudely dug latrine pits full of human waste and rotting garbage. The vaguely fungal stink of the gruel they were forced to eat. And beneath it all, the faint gray malevolent tinge of death, tightening his throat, making him gag, choking him.

  He was dying, he thought in panic. He was going to die before they even got there, before they got the chance to kill him.

  He knew the answer before
it came, but he had to ask.

  Which prison?

  “Prison?” the officer laughed roughly. “Boy, you’re not going to any prison. We’re on our way to the labor camps, and we’re gonna offer you a ride, free of charge.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Ghosts

  Lu probed the skin around her eye with her fingertips, gingerly. Her face was beginning to swell. The officer had punched her good and hard.

  The caravan hit a pit in the road and her hand jerked, forcing the heel of the palm right into the epicenter of the bruise. She winced, dropping her hand back into her lap.

  The heavy manacle looped about her wrist jangled against its twin, shifting the short, heavy length of chain connecting them. The bedroll hiding her sword lay across her thighs, and she clenched it with both hands now, feeling for the hard line of metal through the fabric. She’d pulled it from the horse as they were corralled into the caravan, and the harried officers hadn’t bothered to take it from her. Not that she could use it with her hands bound, anyway. Still, it was a comfort to have.

  The first two caravans had already been loaded with prisoners and sealed by the time the officers dragged her and Nok over, so they’d been thrown into the third, alone save for a few wilted heaps of soiled hay. It was a relief, albeit a small one, Lu thought.

  She glanced over at Nok. He was sitting in the corner, an arm’s length from her, his head resting against the caravan’s rear wall. Each bump and pit must have sent a hard knock to his skull, but he seemed not to notice. They’d been on the road for a while now, though how long or how quickly they were moving, she couldn’t say. Their rolling prison was windowless, and whatever landscape they were moving through was silent, giving away nothing. Nok hadn’t said a word the entire time.

  Lu stood, crouching low to keep her balance, and shuffled over to him. She did her best to ignore the stinking muck the toes of her boots dug up along the way.

  “Hey,” she said softly. He looked at her, black eyes so distant that she couldn’t read them, even if she squinted.