The Wolf of Oren-yaro (Annals of the Bitch Queen Book 1) Page 23

  Ong shuffled away. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said, trying not to let the whole exchange distract me. “I will be courting civil war, otherwise.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem if you have a big enough army.”

  “Oren-yaro might have the biggest army in Jin-Sayeng, Esteemed Prince, but we cannot hope to hold against the entire nation rising up against us. My father learned that the hard way.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Queen Talyien,” Yuebek said. “You need a big enough army. Larger than what you have now. I can help with that.” Ong reappeared. He was carrying a silk pillow. It was filled with a number of jewellery and gemstones.

  Yuebek picked one up. It was a golden brooch, shaped like a dragonfly and inlaid with the largest diamonds I had ever seen. You could buy an army with such a thing. “This one,” he said, clicking his tongue. He turned to Ong. “What do you think?”

  “You know best, Esteemed Prince,” Ong replied, keeping his eyes averted.

  “I do,” Yuebek said. Without warning, he turned to me and pinned the brooch to my chest with such force that I felt the tip dig into my skin. He grinned. “Yes. A dragonfly. Hovering over the others, bright and colourful. It suits you. I can give you an army large enough to strike fear in the hearts of all your enemies. Marry me, and you can have it all.”

  I thought I could feel blood running down my chest as he said that. I swallowed and stared at the man, who was breathing through his teeth while he waited for an answer. Behind him, Governor Ong had his eyes down, his hands folded as if in prayer. I reminded myself to be very, very careful—this was not someone to be trifled with. Sometimes, the way a man acts is not enough for you to make a decision on his character—you had to look at the people around him, how they walked around as if on hot coals.

  “I’m flattered, Esteemed Prince, that you would extend such an offer to me,” I said. “But I am married—”

  “An inconvenience we can easily rectify,” Yuebek snorted.

  “—and as are you, as I recall.” I tried to draw Ong’s attention back to us, but he seemed unaffected by my words.

  “Another inconvenience. She can be set aside.” The grin was still on Yuebek’s face, but his eyes were turning hard. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do you not think I’m handsome?”

  “That’s not…”

  “I’m more handsome than your penniless Rayyel. I certainly have a lot more money, and power that he can only dream of.” His voice had taken a turn. I saw him fingering a ruby-studded dagger among the jewellery and wondered if he would lunge for me. “Give me a good reason why this would make a poor match.”

  I fumbled for an answer. “I’m old,” I finally said. “Too old to be a prize bride. I’m sure a son of the Esteemed Emperor deserves far better.”

  Yuebek began to laugh—a tilted, hollow sound that rang through the entire hall. The servants fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Esteemed Prince,” Ong said, clearing his throat. “Queen Talyien has had a long day. Perhaps once she’s had a good night’s sleep, she can give you a reasonable answer tomorrow morning. We must not forget to show the hospitality of Zorheng City and the respect befitting a queen.”

  Yuebek turned sharply towards him. I thought he would strike him for interrupting. But instead, his jaw slackened, and he gave a soft, almost childish giggle. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right, damn you.”

  “We’ve prepared the Sun Room for the duration of her stay,” Ong said. “I can escort her myself so the Esteemed Prince can also have his rest.” He bowed. “If you think it is appropriate.”

  “The Sun Room. I know where that is.”

  Ong gave me a look. I got up immediately and gave a sweeping bow of my own. “Your Esteemed Prince is too kind.”

  Yuebek dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I followed Ong out into the hall, where I was able to breathe freely for the first time in hours.

  ~~~

  As soon as they left me alone in my quarters, panic descended on me like a wake of vultures heading for a corpse.

  Radi Ong’s assurance that there would be guards outside my hall did little to ease my fears. I slid the lock into place and dragged a desk in front of the door so that someone trying to barge in couldn’t open it. Only then did I realize that the dragonfly brooch was still on my chest. I pulled it out and looked under my shirt—it had broken the skin. There was a thin trail of dried blood running towards my belly.

  I dropped to the ground with my back to the desk. Arro had tried to warn me. Blessed man—he knew everything. Yet I seemed to have made it my life’s habit to rebel at every turn. If he was here now—if he was alive, and I had somehow been able to convince him to make this long trip against his will—he would’ve found the appropriate combination of words to get us out of this mess. Something about the pact between Oren-yaro and Zorheng City prohibiting marriage, perhaps.

  I turned towards the window, which was barred. Of course it would be barred. And anyway, this wasn’t the whorehouse in Shang Azi, where I could’ve dropped onto the street below without problem. The Sun Room was on the fifth or sixth floor, so unless I had decided to kill myself, I had to come up with another plan pretty fast.

  Ong had been right about my exhaustion, because I didn’t get very far with my thoughts. I fell asleep right on the floor, one hand on the sword which they had somehow neglected to remove from me. Sometime during the night, I heard the desk rattle. My eyes snapped open. Someone was pounding on the door behind me.

  As I struggled to contain my wits, I heard the sound of jingling keys. I saw the lock slide out right before my eyes. The door cracked open, but the desk barred it from sliding in fully. I heard someone breathing on the other side. It reminded me of a hound snuffling after its prey.

  “Talyien.” It was Yuebek’s voice. I wondered if he could see the outline of my body through the darkness.

  I considered answering, to feign a headache or come up with some other excuse. But it occurred to me that the man was used to getting his own way and that excuses would fly right over his head. So I kept my mouth shut, even when he tried to put all his weight on the door. If worse comes to worst and he broke it down, I decided I would kill him, consequences be damned.

  He gave up before I could do anything so rash.

  I listened to the sound of his receding footsteps and found myself thinking about Rai. I hoped his prison was a lot more pleasant than mine. Governor Zheshan may have been a snake, but he at least seemed to possess a rational mind. And Rai would not have to spend all night trying to protect his virtue—at least, I hoped he didn’t.

  Morning came. I heard the soft, polite knock of a servant, and pushed the desk aside. She stared at me in confusion, but I offered no explanation, choosing to pretend that nothing was amiss. I assured them I had slept well, throwing empty praises about the serene air of Zorheng City and other such nonsense they clearly didn’t believe while they assisted me with washing up. When I returned to the room, a woman was waiting for me with a dress.

  “The Prince wants you looking your best,” she said, holding the garment up to the window. It was white, made of a fabric so light it shimmered with the slightest movement.

  I considered the woman. She was young and beautiful—likely my age, perhaps even younger. She was not dressed like the other servants, and her manner of speech was similar to Radi Ong and Yuebek. But she didn’t introduce herself, and I wasn’t sure if it was polite to ask, so I kept my mouth shut as she held the dress up my chest. “It looks good on you, don’t you agree?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Did five peasants work their fingers bloody to make it?”

  “Ten,” she said. Her lips quirked into a smile.

  “In that case, how can I say no?” I stood still as she helped me disrobe and put the dress on. As an afterthought, she pinned the dragonfly brooch near my breast, gentler than Yuebek did. When she was content with its placement, she patted my shoulders, a distant look in her eyes.


  “You’ve got too much muscle for a young woman in Zarojo society, but you’re tall, at least,” she said. “You’ll look good beside him.”

  “I don’t think…”

  She pressed a finger on my lips. “Think. Don’t say.” Her eyes flickered towards the door, where the servants stood waiting for us. “I’m glad I picked this material,” she continued loudly. “Your shoulders are too broad for some of the dresses. The current fashion in the capital is to squeeze yourself into as little fabric to make yourself look as much like a bamboo reed as possible.”

  “That sounds like hell.”

  “It’s appalling, but it’s all the young women will talk about. I’m not sure I understand it entirely altogether myself.” She drew away. “Come. He doesn’t like being kept waiting.”

  “You…”

  “Come,” she repeated, a little more urgently.

  I frowned, but I turned to follow her. She saw me pick my sword up from the bed and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Leave it there,” she said.

  “I always wear my sword in Jin-Sayeng,” I lied. “I’d feel naked without it.”

  “It doesn’t look good with the dress. I’ll keep it safe for you.” She held her hand out.

  I sighed and handed the sword to her. She took it with a look of carefully hidden disgust, like she didn’t know how to hold it but didn’t want to offend me, before nodding towards the door. I stepped out, and the servants drew closer to accompany me to breakfast.

  We didn’t go straight to the dining hall, as I had expected. Instead, they led me to the other end of the hall and up a wide, wooden staircase that gleamed like an old man’s bare head. It opened up to a rooftop terrace. I paused to consider a giant wall on one side, blocking my view of the city with the same, blue-flowered vines I had seen the day before down in the tunnels. There were servants lined up in a row holding yellow paper parasols for shade. The other side of the terrace was clear, with a clear view of the River Eanhe.

  “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Ong said, greeting me with a graceful bow. He seemed to be in a more cheerful mood than yesterday. “On very clear, windless mornings, you can see the shadows of the creatures down below.”

  “That sounds…very unpleasant,” I replied.

  He smiled. “Ah. I can see how you’d think so. But if you consider the relative safety of where we are, I’m sure you’ll soon agree that it makes for a very entertaining show. It’s even better if we have prisoners slotted for an execution—the creatures can give them a good, clean death, and feed their bellies besides. If you’re interested, I can check with the guard captain to see if we can arrange a demonstration for you.” He gestured towards a table, where Yuebek was seated on a wide-backed chair covered in velvet. The prince was wearing an impressive purple robe with silver trimmings. No less than twenty peasants worked on it, I’m sure.

  Yuebek greeted me with a straight face. The eager smiles of yesterday, the childish enthusiasm, was gone. I had wondered if he would acknowledge what he had tried to do last night. If I had any authority here, he would be the one getting fed to those river creatures. As a guest, I had no choice but to bite my tongue and smile my horrors away. I took a seat.

  “I hope you had a pleasant sleep,” Ong said, filling a porcelain cup—rimmed with gold—with tea. He set this beside my plate, which was heaped with meat dumplings and preserved duck eggs the colour of coal.

  “Very,” I said. “I slept too deeply, I’m afraid. The world could’ve ended last night and I wouldn’t have stirred.” I picked at the duck egg, pursing my tongue around the strong, creamy flavour of the jellied whites, and smiled at Yuebek. Did he realize I was offering him a way out? I didn’t want him to think I was directly antagonizing him. Until I had figured out what to do, I needed him to think I was on his side.

  Yuebek tapped a spoon on his bowl. “Have you considered my proposal?” he asked.

  “It’s very tempting, Esteemed Prince,” I said. “More than tempting, if I can be honest. How big of an army are we talking about, exactly?”

  “I have two thousand garrisoned in this city alone,” Yuebek replied with a snarl. He had taken my question as a challenge.

  I tried to smooth it over by pretending to look surprised. “That is highly unexpected, and very impressive, my lord. Only remember that, once rallied, Oren-yaro’s can surpass ten thousand. On a good day, mind you, and the ranks will be bolstered by conscripts and volunteers—most of them farmers and villagers with bent swords—but…”

  “I have twenty thousand in the capital,” Yuebek continued with a straight face. The shadow of my insult remained. “Tried and true soldiers, not a single doddering peasant among them. My father’s gift. I do not get the privilege of inheriting the throne, and as a Fifth Son, he ran out of provinces to give to me. So he gifted me with an army.” He gave an unsettling smile. “I don’t get to use it, of course. I would’ve conquered half the continent by now if I had them. Even now, if I make a request to send for them, he will question it, find ways to hinder me. But as a marriage gift to you, Queen Talyien, I’m sure my father will make an exception. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic that I came up with such a grand idea in service of the empire. Don’t you think, so, Ong? Why have we never married into Jin-Sayeng before? Remind me.”

  “The Esteemed Prince possesses wisdom beyond his years,” Ong said.

  Yuebek smiled at the empty compliment. “Twenty thousand,” he repeated. “And a ship to take you home.”

  Two nights ago, I had to steal a horse. And now someone was offering me not just passage back to Jin-Sayeng, but enough soldiers to make the warlords sweat themselves to death. I could be forgiven for being tempted for a moment, could I? It was the most prestigious marriage offer I had received in years.

  I saw the woman, the one who had presented me with the dress, appear from the doors. Ong took a step forward, taking the woman’s arm in his. “May I introduce my daughter, Zhu,” he said.

  Yuebek scowled. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

  “I went to fetch my father,” she said, bowing. She turned to me. “Queen Talyien. I hope you are pleased with our hospitality so far. The Esteemed Prince should show you our gardens once your meal is finished. I—”

  “Silence,” Yuebek commanded.

  Zhu dropped her eyes. She obeyed him so well, and was so still that for a moment, I thought could hear the river-monsters swirling down below. I reached out, taking Zhu’s hand in mine. “That sounds lovely,” I said, squeezing my fingers together.

  She gave me a small smile.

  “I have heard,” I continued, turning to Yuebek. “That this remarkable woman is your current wife. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Current,” Yuebek said with a smile. “Are you worried about her? Don’t be. A minor inconvenience…we have laws that can allow our alliance to proceed forward.”

  “Laws that allow you to set her aside,” I said. “I’m aware. It is not as simple in Jin-Sayeng. Divorce is not an option in my nation. Our gods do not allow it, and even the Ikessars’ Nameless Maker frowns upon setting a marriage aside for no good reason. You will not easily find a priest who can absolve our marriage, never mind get the people to ever accept the act.”

  “That problem can be solved with a knife to the throat.”

  “Are you suggesting I have my husband assassinated, Esteemed Prince?”

  “Are you suggesting he hasn’t tried to do the same thing to you?”

  His question took me aback. I closed my mouth and reached for the cup of tea. Behind me, I could hear Zhu and her father walk away. Before I could form a coherent response, Yuebek clapped his hands and dismissed the remaining servants with a sharp gesture.

  I swallowed hot tea and placed the cup back on the table. “Lord Rayyel wouldn’t,” I said.

  “Are you so sure?” Yuebek asked. “This Lord Husband of yours left you for some whore, I’ve been told. Some other warlord’s daughter.”

  “A rumour.�
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  “You don’t think he’d rather have you out of the way, inheriting your land and army while he rules with his new queen? Are you really that naive?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. My clan has not accepted him as their own. My son is the heir of both Oren-yaro and Shirrokaru. And Rai wouldn’t…he—”

  “Loves you?” He said the words as if it was something vile, a child’s fancy.

  I smiled at him. “He is a devoted man. In any case, the assassination attempt in Anzhao targeted the both of us. I saw it with my own eyes. As I told you yesterday, he ended up in Governor Zheshan’s dungeons while I managed to escape.”

  Yuebek’s eyes flashed. He started laughing, a horrible grating sound that set my already-frayed nerves on edge. When he caught his breath, he slammed both his hands on the table, sending cups and plates rattling. “What would he be doing in Zheshan’s blasted dungeons if the assassin was targeting you both? Foolish woman—can’t you see a trick when it plays out right in front of you? To think that he managed to get away from an assassin, only to find himself in the clutches of the man beside him! It’s beyond absurd.”

  “I did find it irregular,” I said. “But I’m sure there’s another explanation. It’s why I decided to seek your assistance in the first place. If we can rescue him, perhaps we can come to an arrangement. Jin-Sayeng treats her friends very well, Esteemed Prince, and I’m sure…”

  Yuebek reached out from across the table to grab my hands. His palms were cold and sweaty, a sure sign of a nervous temperament, or so my father liked to say. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Revulsion stirred in my throat. I tried to pull away, but he kept a firm hold. “You’ve heard my offer more than once, now,” he said. “Do not insult me like you did last night.”

  “Last night?”

  “Don’t play dumb, woman. You may be Queen of Jin-Sayeng, but I am a son of the Esteemed Emperor Yunan of the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro. It would be very bad for you to ignore the weight of such a title.” He got up, pulling me towards him. I could smell his breath, which had a stench masked only by the perfume he wore. “Come. To the gardens, as my dear wife suggested. Perhaps a walk will clear your head.”