The Wolf of Oren-yaro

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The Wolf of Oren-yaro Page 33

by K. S. Villoso


  He cleared his throat. “There is another guest wing. I saw armed guards along the way. I’m sure they’re protecting his room.”

  “Can we take on armed guards?”

  “Before you killed them, I would’ve said no,” Khine said, looking at the mess. He scratched his head. “Now, though, I would think it’s a little too late to do anything else. No point in continuing your disguises, anyway.”

  “Let’s go say hi to the bastard,” I murmured, stepping over the bodies. Agos shut the door behind us.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Ikessar Heir, Reprised

  I had expected to grow old with Rayyel.

  Foolish, romantic notions. I was not a child anymore, but I still remembered being the young girl who had let herself fall so deeply in love, thinking it was safe. Ordained by the gods, the priests had said.

  Even after discovering that Rai had a lover, I had tried my hardest to believe I could still turn things around. I returned to Oren-yaro and continued with our wedding preparations as if nothing had happened. The warlords’ gifts poured in: gold, silk, hand-carved furniture, and high-stepping horses so beautiful the sight of them alone could make you weep. Courtiers from all across the nation came to offer me their congratulations. The women spoke to me behind fans, coyly suggesting how lucky I was that I could at least look forward to my wedding night. A jibe at my father, I think…I didn’t need someone else reminding me that my mother was forced to marry an ailing man five times her age while I “only” got Rayyel, who was young and handsome.

  I officially saw him again on the day of our wedding, in the Kibouri temple in Shirrokaru. We knelt before the statue of his ancestors’ Nameless Maker and swore to love each other to the end of our days. He took my hand while ignoring my shaking fingers, and presented me to the people with a bow, like I was this most precious thing.

  We didn’t talk to each other throughout the whole celebration. We greeted everyone who came to congratulate us, sometimes hand-in-hand, but to each other, we were quiet, subdued. Not a single word passed between us, not even the most furtive of glances. Which was normal for him, but I had wondered if he noticed how strange it was for me. The rest of the evening flashed by. We soon found ourselves alone in a room, the same room where I had found him with that other woman. My first thought was a fervent hope that they would at least have changed the sheets.

  “I will be gentle,” he said, his lips grazing my neck. I barely heard him. Every part of my body was recoiling from his touch, even as I tried to shut out the image of him being ridden naked by that bitch from my mind.

  Duty? Don’t tell me I don’t know duty. I know it like the back of my hand, like the breath of air from my lungs. I know it better than my own mother, and in the thick uncertainty of that dark room, I held on to it like a sharpened blade. The blood running through my fingers? Inconsequential.

  He took my shaking as virginal nerves. If I hadn’t known any better, I could’ve taken his awkwardness for the same. The ordained, lying to each other. He took my clothes off, drew a quick breath, and marvelled out loud of my beauty in the moonlight. Me, with my thick bones and angles and the muscles on my frame, when he had tasted supple breasts and soft skin.

  Forced smiles. Lying on the bed, pretending to respond to his touch. Duty? Another would have forced their eyes shut and urged him to get on and be done with it. I pulled at his robes, running my hands over his smooth, scholar’s body. Not a flaw or mark on it—no deformities, no battle scars. My own sunburnt skin, with its many bumps and bruises, looked rougher in comparison. I had nothing to complain about.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “My lord?”

  Rayyel kissed me, his beard tickling my chin while his fingers curled over my shoulders. He had not lied about being gentle, at least. “We are going to usher in a new era,” he whispered. “One our ancestors could have only dreamed of. I did not always believe we could make it work, but I think…having known you all these years…I can believe your heart is in the right place. Forgive me.”

  I shut my eyes then, forcing back the tears. I didn’t want to ask what for. I didn’t want to hear his explanations. I allowed myself to listen to his words, to absorb the weight of them. “We will put everything behind us,” I heard myself saying. “There is nothing to forgive, my lord.”

  That marked the last conversation of our first night together. He entered me, finding no barrier. He wasn’t surprised. I had ridden horses all my life. He knew that, at least, or else simply didn’t know any better. I was young and took no pleasure in the act, but after he was done, I held his sleeping form in my arms and stared at his face for the longest time.

  Duty? Love? It was one and the same, and it left the sensation of my heart wanting to leap from my chest and strangle the living daylights out of me. But I still remember how tightly I held him that night, how I left no space between us. You would’ve had to rip me away.

  ~~~

  I think I had done a remarkable job of pretending that Rayyel’s absence did not affect my ability to rule. When he left, I did not spend hours curled up in a ball, sobbing my sorrows away. After my coronation, we went on with the celebrations, and I proceeded to rule Jin-Sayeng from Oren-yaro, appointing Thanh officially as the heir. The nation watched with unblinking eyes while the warlords wandered back to their provinces. If they had been expecting me to declare war on the Ikessars or create an uproar of any sort, they were sorely disappointed.

  It made me wonder if my reactions—or lack thereof—made a difference to Kora’s reports over the past few years. What did he want to know, anyway? The policies I had signed? If I had chosen to take lovers after he left? What I ate for breakfast each day? If he had learned I cried myself to sleep each night, would it have changed a thing?

  It made sense that he would want to place someone close to me in order to learn what he could. I might have done the same thing. But the implication of it stung. Despite everything I had learned, that stubborn part of me still clung to belief that he wasn’t capable of taking things this far. That we had shared something meaningful, at least, in those three years of marriage. All he had to do was ask, and I would have told him everything. Everything.

  We reached the hallway with the guards. There were only two. Agos and Nor rushed forward, swords drawn. I moved to join them, but Khine dragged me by the wrist.

  “Quick,” he said. “While they’re distracted.”

  I followed him up the corridor. There was a single door at the end, unguarded. I pulled it open and walked in. There was a man with his back to the window.

  “Rayyel!” I called out.

  The man turned.

  Panic rushed into me. Rayyel, my mind begged. I need to talk to Rayyel. We got this far. Please. I need to know—

  Yuebek must’ve seen my expression. He broke into laughter.

  “I got you!” he said, when he caught his breath at last. “I got you, didn’t I? Queen Talyien!” Yuebek crossed the room and caught my arm. I was so stunned that I didn’t even try to move away. “You escaped my trap, my little dove, only to find yourself in another one. How wonderful! Beautiful! And you, Queen Talyien, none-the-wiser!”

  “I take it that’s not Rayyel,” Khine commented.

  Yuebek turned to him. “Who are you, fly? Where’s my guards?”

  I shook myself from his grasp. “You’ve gone too far, Yuebek.”

  “Oh no, no, my lovely queen. I think I went just the right amount. You are here, after all.” He laughed again, this time a high-pitched, wheezing sound. I stepped back.

  “I came here for Rayyel,” I said.

  Yuebek’s face fell. “That man, still?”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “After everything he had done to you? The betrayals, the schemes?” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “I wouldn’t do such things. I would be loyal to you. Ask Zhu.”

  “Zhu’s dead. I believe I remember you killing her.”

  “I did,” Yuebek sa
id. “She betrayed me. A traitor deserves nothing less. But if you could, she would tell you that I never laid hand on another woman, not while we were married. Oh ho! I saw the look on your face. So the rumours are true, then?”

  “I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about.”

  “That he left you for another. That he was fucking his way through the royal clans. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  He smiled, my words nothing but air to him. “And you knew. You knew, and you ignored it. Swept it under the rugs. A travesty. Do you wonder why they talk about you, why you’ve lost the support of so many of your lords and royal clans? Marry me, and we can help you gain your dignity back.”

  “I can’t believe you’re not done with this,” I hissed.

  “I can’t believe you can’t see reason,” he retorted. “I was told Queen Talyien was intelligent. Perhaps they were wrong. Surely an intelligent woman will know when she’s been beaten, when she is powerless…”

  “Biala was your creature, wasn’t she? She was talking about you.”

  He continued to smile. I heard the door open and saw Nor and Agos arrive. Nor was holding an injured arm. Their appearance did not seem to concern Yuebek one bit.

  “There’s four of us and one of you,” I said. “Talk.”

  Yuebek lifted his chin. “I think you’re confused, Queen Talyien. Why do you think you have the upper hand? Here, or at all? I am Emperor Yunan’s Fifth Son. Who are you but the youngest daughter of a rebel and some nameless whore he picked for her warm cunt and lack of sense?”

  “I escaped your prison once, Yuebek. You don’t frighten me.”

  “Did you think you escaped because of your own skill? Or because I let you?”

  I saw Agos lifting his blade. I held out my hand. “Stop,” I said. “He knows where Rayyel is.” I turned back to Yuebek, whose face had assumed an expression of bright-eyed wonder, like a child watching a play unfold in front of him. “You used Biala Chaen to feed me that line about Rayyel being here. She said you were expecting me. I don’t understand why you went through all that trouble.”

  “It’s brilliant, isn’t it? You learned he was here, so you went all the way to Zorheng, to me, to get help for him.”

  “That’s it? You orchestrated this just so I would go to you for help?”

  He clapped his hands.

  “Tali,” Khine said. “I don’t think he’s got your Dragonlord. This man is clearly mad.”

  His words filled me with a sense of dread. If Rayyel wasn’t here, where was he? Dead, in a gutter somewhere… “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No! Yuebek will talk.”

  “Prince Yuebek,” he corrected. “My darling also works—I’m fond of affectations. When we’re married, you’ll have to address me properly. This lack of respect won’t do. We can’t let the people know that their new monarchs don’t get along.” He shuffled over to the table and picked up a jar of ink. “After I write to my priest in Zorheng…we can get married before the moon turns. And then I’ll have my father lift this embargo and I’ll take you home myself. Do you think—will the people embrace me as the new king?”

  I felt revulsion stir in my stomach. “Stop.”

  Yuebek did, but only to turn his head slightly. “I know you don’t love me right now,” he said. “But you will learn. You loved that despicable man, didn’t you? Even after he sent an assassin for you in my dungeons. And then another, and then another…”

  “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  His face tightened, the look of someone who had realized he had slipped.

  I drew my sword. “You sent those assassins.”

  The smile broke from his face. “Only to show you what your husband was capable of!” he cried. “Only to show you what he was going to do, anyway! I have it on best authority that the man has been conspiring with Zheshan! And I asked them not to hurt you—”

  “You son of a bitch. They tried to kill me.”

  “I said, make sure they don’t hurt her, and I made sure I didn’t hire real assassins like the first time…”

  My head was swimming. “What do you mean the first time?”

  Another slip. Yuebek jerked away from the desk, spilling the jar of ink all over his robes. “He was conspiring with Zheshan,” Yuebek said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your husband is evil, Talyien. Can’t you see? You don’t deserve him. He’s a pauper, a nobody. If you rule with me, you can have everything. You’ve seen what I can do, what I’m capable of. Imagine what will happen if you let me lead you and Jin-Sayeng to glory.”

  “The Silver Goose, the guards…the Singing Sainsa…you did all of those?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the letters—those were you, too?”

  He nodded eagerly.

  “How did you copy his handwriting?”

  “I’ve been studying both of you,” he said, “for years.”

  ~~~

  I felt a prickle in the back of my neck.

  In my blindness, my naivete, I had imagined that the world revolved only around Rayyel and me. That if we were together, everything would fall neatly into place, just as our parents had promised our people. I thought it had been like a game of Hanza: two players on the board, limited moves, one resolution.

  Perhaps he had been right about how I had only been playing at being queen. Why didn’t I notice the other players? When did Yuebek arrive in the picture? Years? Who had been feeding him information? Who else had betrayed me? Arro?

  No. Not Arro. Everyone else I could doubt, but not the man who had been there for me since my father died, a man my own foolishness had killed. But if Yuebek knew enough to copy Rayyel’s handwriting, and knew the subtlety with which I would recognize it, then he knew other things as well. Dangerous things.

  “I know everything,” Yuebek said, as if reading my mind. “The colour of the drapes in your room. Your preferred soaps, and breakfasts, and the names of your favourite dogs and horses. I know you like dresses and swords, how fond you are of the strange, colourful fish in your gardens, and that yes, that you worshipped the ground this Rayyel walked on, even when you didn’t have to. That you know the names of his relatives, living or dead, and still send flowers to his father’s grave every year. That you read most of his books and know them by heart, even though they bored you half to death, just so you could have something to talk about. And I know about Thanh, your son.”

  “Don’t go there,” I hissed. His words had turned panic into dread.

  “Of course, when we are married, I could not allow a bastard to be my heir. He would have to be disposed of. The poor boy, but unfortunately…”

  I didn’t let him finish. I struck him with my sword.

  The blade bent before it could touch him.

  He looked down, surprised, and moved his ink-splattered fingers into a circle. The sword began to crumple and started to spread heat along the hilt and up my hand. I dropped it.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Yuebek said, looking up at me. “You don’t know much about mages, do you? Another thing to rectify in your backward nation. But I can already see that I can’t make you change your mind now, not with words. I think we have to get rid of distractions first.”

  He pulled out a dagger. I thought he was going for me and pulled out a chair to block the attack.

  Instead, the dagger slid out of his hands and flew back, as if held by something unseen, and struck Khine in the gut.

  I leaped forward, screaming. Khine pulled the dagger out and tried to swing at him—the idiot didn’t bring his own sword—but Yuebek simply walked past him and scampered for the window.

  “He can’t be allowed to leave alive!” I cried. Agos rushed after him.

  I reached Khine, who had managed to drag himself to the corner, and helped him to the ground. His skin had the pallor of chalk and his eyes were flickering. He grabbed my arm as a wave of pain, I think, shot through him.

  Outside, Agos roared. I heard a loud cr
ash.

  “Your sword!” I called to Nor.

  She unstrapped her belt and threw the sheathed sword at me. I caught it in mid-air. “Take care of Khine,” I said, before hurling myself out of the window and onto the rooftop.

  Agos was nowhere in sight. I saw Yuebek scampering in the distance. I drew the sword, dropping the scabbard behind me, and raced after him.

  He was a slow runner. I struck down, cutting him across the leg a few paces in. But I barely nicked him. He spun around to face me, that damnable smile still on his face. “Look at you,” he said. “It’s touching how you can’t keep me away from your sight. We have a connection after all. I really think you could learn to love me more than Rayyel. I could be so good to you.”

  “You don’t see it, but I’m trying very hard not to vomit in my mouth.”

  “Such harsh words. And yet I can tell—you’re curious about what I can do for Jin-Sayeng, your once-glorious nation. Do you not want to know what it can look like again, in the days when you ran on dragon-fire and you actually had things the empire wanted? Not the disarray you’ve inherited…the squabbling warlords…the crumbling dragon-towers…”

  I lifted my sword. “Your sense of perception is extremely dull.”

  He held out his hands. “Queen Talyien. I am giving you a chance to show your true worth as a leader. You have seen what I’ve done with Zorheng City.”

  “I have. I’m not particularly impressed.”

  His cheeks dimpled, as if he had been expecting that. “Yet you have not seen what it was before I arrived. The people complain now, but before my work, there had been nothing in it worth saving. Zorheng was an outhouse in the far corner of the empire. Now it is a fortress, impenetrable, sturdy. Imagine what I could do with a better canvas, better paint…” He lifted his fingers again. I felt a sharp wind on me, scraping across my robes like a rough caress.

  I jabbed my elbow into his chest, stopping him from doing whatever it was he had been attempting. I felt an equally forceful blow slide past my shoulder, although Yuebek never lifted a finger. I grabbed his throat in my hands.

 

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