by Devin Madson
How Jie would have laughed. He had said one of his generals would take his throne, that our names meant nothing anymore. Power rested in the hands of whoever commanded the army, leaving both Otakos and Ts’ai as irrelevant as each other.
“All hail Emperor Manshin?” I said, lifting my chin in challenge.
“Hardly. The reason we thought you would be so strong an empress is because you carry both the Ts’ai and the Otako name, making you an important symbol for those who still care about such things. You will sit on the throne, but your generals, your councillors, your guards, and your governors will take their orders from me.”
“So I am to be a puppet?”
“A figurehead.”
“You are so sure of your support?” I wanted it to be a challenge, but even to me it sounded like weak hope.
“Your council and your generals care for the empire as befits their positions. Kisia must come first.” His smile had a pitying quality. “You may be able to go on convincing commoners that you are a god, but Emperor Kin set a long precedent. They knew he was no god, that Kisia was not his by right. It is not yours by right either. It belongs to its people and you must serve those people, whatever it takes. To which end, I have accepted a renewed request from the Chiltaens to sign a treaty reinstating the border. Your marriage to Dom Leo Villius will finally be able to seal peace after all.”
I staggered back a step, drawing a breath into lungs too tight for air.
“What?” Sichi gasped, finding her voice first. “Leo Villius? Father, he is a monster. He can get inside people’s heads. He can—”
“I understand the Levanti did not like him,” Manshin interrupted. “That his religion went against theirs. He would not allow them to cut off heads as they are wont to do, or burn their bodies. Upholding one’s beliefs in the face of barbarism is hardly monstrous. Regardless, you are not a Levanti, and neither is Miko.”
Miko. It was like I was a child again.
“The Levanti didn’t dislike him for his faith, Father. He is… unnatural. A cruel, manipulative—”
“Enough! You are overwrought by your so-called husband’s poor treatment of you. May the experience teach you wisdom. Unlike your barbarians, Dom Leo Villius will treat Miko with the utmost respect.”
I tried to remember the man who had sat across from me in Mei’lian and plotted treason. A man who had stayed at his position though his family estate and his daughter were in danger. His determination and drive still stood before me, but he was a cold shell of his former self. Just as Mei’lian was now burned out and empty.
“A treaty with Chiltae,” I said as calmly as I could manage, choosing a different angle of attack. “That restores the border they marched across. Restores the peace they broke. We give it back to them when all they have given us is thousands of dead to bury and dozens of burned cities and towns. Why? Why would we do that?”
“Because further war would last years and risk so much more. We have no idea what the Chiltaens have on their side. They are rich. They may have more mercenaries, or get more if pushed, and—”
“And if you sign a treaty with them, how many years will it be before they break it? One? Two? This cycle just keeps turning, getting faster and faster as we pour more hate into it. A piece of paper and a loveless marriage are not going to change that!”
“Perhaps not, but they are too strong to conquer. So it is peace now or risk being destroyed.”
“The people will not stand for it. Not after what they have done to us. Neither will they accept a Chiltaen emperor.”
Manshin lifted his hands, his calming gesture only increasing my anger. “He will not be an emperor. He will be your consort only. And Kisia is well used to the rotation of war and peace with Chiltae. We fight them, then we trade with them, and for the common folk, the world goes on. This time it was the barbarians who incited the violence. Blame ought to be cast where it is due.”
I knew the Levanti had been forced into service, knew that if the Chiltaens were offering peace it was only because they were afraid or had some devious plan, but what did it matter what I knew anymore?
Manshin spread his hands again, placating a rage I had not loosed. “I serve the empire. The oaths I swore, I swore to the people of Kisia, not its rulers, and by your very own wisdom this is the best course of action. ‘A small chance of a big success, or a big chance of a small success,’ you said, and peace is not worth risking on our pride.”
I hated how logical it was. Hated he was using my words against me. Hated there was nothing I could say to change it. He would not have made such a move without being sure of his position.
“How long have you been planning to turn on me, Your Excellency?” I said. “How long have you feigned loyalty?”
“I have always been loyal to what you wished to accomplish, and I still am,” he said stiffly.
“Bullshit. You are loyal only to your own whims like every other two-faced councillor and opportunistic general in history. Tell yourself lies if it makes you feel better, but it doesn’t change the truth.”
“Whims? Caring what happens to Kisia is a whim? Like sleeping with a Levanti is a whim?”
Rage propelled me a step forward. “I didn’t sleep with him,” I hissed. “I have done nothing wrong. Nothing you wouldn’t have just looked the other way for had I been a man.”
“But you are not a man.”
“And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? It was fun to let me play the leader when you thought you could control me, but the moment I started questioning your advice and making my own decisions you were too afraid to trust me. It’s pathetic.”
He stepped in, meeting me in the crackling space between us. “You were supposed to be a symbol of strength. You were supposed to be a symbol of wisdom, the pure goddess who would fight fearlessly for her empire, inspiration for the soldiers.”
Pure. Symbolic. Not a woman with a mind and a body and a heart. I bared my teeth, the fury of a hundred forgotten empresses spitting between them. “From such a pedestal how could I do anything but fall?”
We glared at one another. “You should have listened to me,” he said.
“And you should have trusted me instead of undermining me at every opportunity.”
Manshin snorted. “I did no such thing. You were capable of that without my help.”
“Capable of retaking Syan. Of reclaiming Kogahaera. Of marching an army on a false emperor and winning.”
“And losing half your army to an ambush.”
“And destroying all of Grace Bahain’s in an ambush. You are too ready to give full weight to my errors and none to my victories. Did Emperor Kin lose battles? Yes. Did he lose soldiers? Yes. Did he give ground at the border? Yes. Did he lose half the empire to my father? Yes.”
For the tiniest moment I thought I had him, but with a snort, Manshin looked away.
“What a pathetic thing,” I said. “To hold a woman to higher account than a man.”
“Trust you to see things that aren’t there.”
“How dare you.”
“Merely an observation, Your Majesty.”
The return of the respectful address hurt as much as his switch to my name had, and I spat at him, loosing all my pent-up rage. He flinched back, but shock soon twisted into disgust. “Very ladylike. We are clearly finished here. While you maintain a respectable face to the world, you will be respected by the court. There are many worse fates, Your Majesty.”
“Like being forced to marry Leo Villius and watch him take over my empire.”
“He is a priest, not a warrior.”
“You are making a big mistake with him, Father,” Sichi said.
Manshin looked at her with the same disdain. “Threats are beneath the name you were born to.”
“How strange. I was sure I heard you threaten to forcefully remove Nuru from the room if she did not leave on her own.”
“This interview is over,” he said. “You both ought to rest. Tomorrow I will inform you of
the council’s plan for the treaty and your marriage, and where we intend to base the court now Mei’lian has been destroyed. By the very people you insisted on allying yourself with.”
It was one last parting jab. I couldn’t pass up my own. “The very people you wouldn’t be alive without. The very people who saved us again and again and again.”
He deigned no reply, just bowed, mockingly deep, and turned to the door without so much as a glance at his daughter. And that was it. I would not call him back. Would not plead.
No Manshin. No army. No allies. Not even Edo or Rah or General Ryoji. I was alone.
Sichi’s hand slid into mine, her skin soft. I blinked back tears. She didn’t speak and neither did I, the pair of us standing there in the smothering silence of the empty hall.
When I thought I could speak without my voice breaking, I looked at her. She looked back, and my heart broke anew. Whatever hope I had wanted to see, whatever strength and determination would have steeled my resolve was absent in her face. We had each other, but no allies. No resources. No power. No plan. Nothing.
I returned her wan smile, tears running down my cheeks. I let them fall. There was no point pretending. The same hopelessness I saw in her eyes, she would see reflected in mine.
We were alone.
31. DISHIVA
Warm and strong beneath me, Itaghai was my anchor, the rocking motion of his slow gait more lulling than the sweetest cradle song. If not for Jass, I would have dozed off long since.
“I know you’ve had some bad ideas in the past,” he said, looking up from where he walked alongside. “But this one… Are you sure about this?”
“That’s the… seventh? time you’ve asked that question.”
“I’m not getting a good answer.”
“What would be a good answer?”
He stared ahead at the moonlit road, empty but for us. The wind was cold and damp, but at least it wasn’t raining. I was starting to cling to such small mercies. “No. I think no would be a good answer.”
I sighed, tired to depths I hadn’t known I possessed. “But I am sure. Sure I want to do it. That it’s important, not that it’s a good idea or will work out well.”
Jass said nothing for a while, the whip of the wind and the clop of Itaghai’s hooves all that marked the night. I closed my aching eye. A healer had replaced the bandage over my empty socket. I needed it, but the pressure around my head was only making my headache worse. I ought to wait. To rest. To go when I was better. Jass had uttered so many sensible suggestions, dancing around the desire to outright tell me not to go at all, but the longer I waited the greater the chance I would be too late.
“You said they took more than a dozen Levanti captive,” I said after a time.
“I did.”
“Oshar amongst them.”
The young translator was barely old enough to be Made, ought to have lived a life that looked nothing like the one he had. But our herd masters had been manipulated. Gideon had chosen to stay, to conquer, to build. Leo had ruined it all, and now I would be damned if I would let him down too. Let them all down. Matsimelar had died for my mistakes. Oshar would not die too.
“No one else can do it, Jass.”
He walked on, his hand looped in Itaghai’s reins, his shoulder close enough that I could touch him if I reached out, that his arm would bump my leg if he drew any nearer, and yet he had never felt farther away.
“He can’t get into my head with my eyes damaged,” I went on, unsure if I was trying to convince him or myself for the dozenth time, the same doubts running through my head again and again. “And with the name of defender, I’m protected under church law. Tor checked.”
We had found him packing saddlebags when we went for Itaghai, and I’d asked him that one last question. “It does say the defender is protected by God as the defender protects God,” he had said. “And it looks like it’s always been a position. There is always a defender, though who holds the position changes.”
We had thanked him and wished him well and gone our separate ways.
“That no one else can do it doesn’t mean you have to,” Jass said, not looking at me. “Or even that you can.”
“No, but it means I’m going to try.”
He puffed a heavy breath to the night and looked up at the sky. Only a single moon there, a sight I was getting used to. “I hope one day you will consider your own safety before you do these things.”
“Do you? You should probably leave then, because I’m going to disappoint you.”
Jass’s laugh was a weary thing. “I know, and you know I won’t. I’m just being selfish because I don’t want to lose you.” He glanced up at me then, a fleeting, wary look. “I fret. And worry. And I hate it.”
“I know.” I reached out and touched his shoulder. “We both walk tough paths; they’re just different paths. Nothing happens for a reason, but we can choose to do something with the fate we’re dealt or just complain about it. If I don’t… do something with this…”
He gripped my hand, squeezing it to his shoulder. “Who’d have thought losing an eye would help you see more clearly than me.”
“I’m also older than you.”
“Not by that much!”
I met his gaze with steady disbelief. “Which term of service are you in?”
“My first.”
“Exactly.”
“That is hardly conclusive evidence!”
“Then I’m not sure what is.”
He tried to glare and managed only a few seconds before it became a laugh, and for a moment we weren’t on our way to yet another parting. Except that we were. The heart-pounding urge to turn around welled up, only to be shoved aside. I had the ability to help. I was the only one who did. Could I live with myself if I didn’t?
The Chiltaen army had retreated, battered and beaten, but had not gone far. Only far enough for safety while they rested and regrouped and decided what to do next.
“We must be close,” Jass said. “I can see men watching us from the trees.”
I could see only haze myself. “Many?”
“Enough.”
“Then it’s time.”
He took three more steps and halted. Itaghai’s hooves scraped the stones. “Are you sure about this?”
“Eight times.”
“All right, I’ll stop asking.” He lifted his hands to help me down, and while I hated being injured enough to need assistance, there was joy in the strength of his arms and the closeness of his body, and the warmth of his breath as it ghosted across my cheek. Then he let me go, and I was standing alone upon the road beside him, unable to say goodbye.
I touched his arm, wishing I could see him more clearly but grateful for his solidity. “I can’t tell you I’ll ever think of my own safety first. Or ask you to do so, but…” I drew a breath and let it out, shaky and uneven. “But I promise I will come back to you if I can. That I hope… one day no one else will need me, and if on that day you want me…” My voice suspended upon a mixture of fear and emotion I could not swallow. I ought not to have said anything, but I was sick of doubting. Sick of not speaking. Of protecting myself with a silence that cut deeper than any admission.
Jass breathed out. “This is where we’re doing this?” he said, a laugh in his voice. “I love you and goodbye?”
“It could be our last chance, so… yes. Gods know it would have been easier not to care for you, but you were you, and now it’s too late. Really, it’s your fault for being who you are.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
His laugh owned no humour. “I didn’t want to say anything that might pressure you to change your mind, but if this is what we’re doing then gods be damned, Dishiva, you are the most stubborn, tough, selfless person I have ever met, and often you make me want to tear out the hair I don’t even have, but I started out staying to help others and ended up being here only for you. Oops.”
“Oops indeed,” I said, returning th
e gentle kiss he offered with more passion than was safe in that moment, but I might never see him again, no matter how determined I was to get through this, to have a future.
Itaghai gave a restless snort. We had lingered too long, and I pulled away from a kiss that left me breathless. “Ride fast,” I said, taking a wobbly sidestep so he could reach Itaghai. “Don’t look back. Please. For both of us.”
He tried to smile, but it twisted into a grimace. “I’ll wait for you, Dishiva. However long it takes.”
“And I’ll come back to you, however long it takes.”
Jass crushed me in one last fierce embrace, holding me so tightly to him that for a moment I couldn’t breathe. He let me go as hurriedly and was in the saddle before I regained my balance. Hooves scraped. The bridle clinked. Itaghai turned, and unable to bear more words, unable to bear another touch lest we never let go, Jass dug in his heels and sped away, the flick of Itaghai’s tail the last thing I saw before they disappeared from my scarred vision.
Hoofbeats clattered into the distance, leaving me with the whip of the chill wind and the emptiness of night all around. Now, even if I wanted to change my mind, I couldn’t, and that was more comforting than I had expected.
Drawing a deep breath, I pulled up the mask Leo had forced on me at the ceremony, settling it as comfortably as I could over my bandages. Then I walked.
The white clothing I’d been given was thin and far from clean, but it felt like armour as I walked alone along the road. The watching Chiltaens had only to see me to know me for what I was, to know I was untouchable. Bit by bit, the sense I was being watched deepened. Soon, steps crunched at the edge of the road. I walked on like I hadn’t heard them.
“Defender,” a voice said, wary. I couldn’t understand any of his other words, but at least they didn’t sound combative.
“I want to see Leo Villius,” I returned, and surely they would know the name. Understand my purpose.
