Tahj laughed on, unable to stop.

He was King of Sumbral now.

He could lead his army against Xau

despite the dragons

who had repudiated his father.

Or he could end his father’s war,

dispatch his envoys

to grovel at Xau’s feet:

buy a bloodstained, bitter peace.

Tahj’s laughter died.

He bent down to claim

the crushed and crimsoned crown.

Let a smith reshape the mangled metal

as Tahj would reshape Sumbral,

as he would offer peace to King Xau.

Peace, but never friendship.

DRAGON BREATH

“Thought you that this was over?”

Anuk uncoiled himself from the fire pit

at the back of Selaz’s lair.

“Let be. Twice-told is old and cold.”

Selaz hinged her wine-red wings

to fit through the entrance hole.

Anuk rumbled, shaking the stones:

“The Hidden Queen should not

have asked such a thing of us.”

“Let be, Anuk! It’s done.”

She entwined her neck round his,

wrapped her tail about his tail.

She breathed full on Anuk then,

wreathing his head in fire

so that he shut his eyes.

When the tantalizing heat faded,

he pushed her into the fire pit,

her belly flat to the coals.

Holding her in place,

he breathed on her wine-red scales

until they glowed like rubies.

Groaning, she rolled on her side

and he flamed her belly,

the bump of her unlaid eggs.

No words, only their breath

wreathing round each other,

his fire inside hers.

A GIFT

King Xau couldn’t sleep,

couldn’t feign sleep,

couldn’t lie still.

He rose, dressed,

bowed to the two of his guards

on night duty,

told the others to rest,

but none would,

so that his wakefulness

led to all nine guards

following him into the corridors

of the mountain border fort.

He walked the circuit of corridors,

past rooms of sleeping soldiers,

round and round again,

his pace deliberate, measured,

but his pulse galloping.

Up the stairs,

out onto the observation platform.

Chill air,

no lanterns,

but the crescent moon low in the west,

the constellations strung like decorations,

the mountains falling away

beneath him.

Down to the wall walk,

where he spoke to each of the sentries,

walked round twice,

stopped, finally, at an arrow loop

with a view down the Shahness Pass,

down toward his enemy

who had retreated,

beyond expectation,

beyond his hope.

A gift,

if he could trust the envoy.

The war over,

over before it began,

but he couldn’t set it aside,

his heart agallop,

braced for battle,

for death,

his death that walked away

down the pass, below the snow line.

He had not wanted any part of this.

A crown, war, duty,

that his death should mean more

than another man’s.

Back to the observation platform,

the flamboyant beauty of the stars.

He looked down the other side of the pass

toward his kingdom,

toward Hana, his children,

whom he had not allowed himself

to think about.

Then down to the lanterned warmth of his room,

where he offered tea to his guards

and asked after their families.