had only ordered Cyrus to protect Xau

because honor required it.

But over the past two weeks,

Cyrus had come to disagree

with his brother,

Xau’s death a grief

that held him in place,

peering into dark.

None of Cyrus’s own soldiers lost—

he had tallied them on the ride to the river.

Horses, yes, twenty or thirty missing,

together with supplies, weapons.

A blackness moved

in the distant trees:

a horse, no, several horses.

Cyrus was on horseback

before he thought it through,

riding ahead of his men,

so that he was the first

to count the six riderless horses

pressed round a horse in their midst,

double-mounted,

King Xau a shadowed limpness

in the arms of his guard.

One dark moment

when Cyrus wondered

if Xau were dead after all,

then Cyrus was up by the horses,

close enough to see

the king breathing.

Cyrus turned his horse

back to the bridge,

shouting for the surgeon,

for every soldier

to set their weapons

on the ground,

so that there could be no mischance,

no zealot’s dagger in Xau’s back.

Cyrus’s exertions

unlikely to earn him

thanks from Tahj,

but when Cyrus helped ease Xau

down from the horse,

when Xau opened his eyes and stood,

in that moment,

Cyrus didn’t give a damn

what Tahj wanted.

DAWN

Li’s hand on his shoulder:

King Xau came awake before he understood

that Li was not on fire,

no skeleton of branching bone, indigo flame.

The demon long dead.

Dawn. The sky red but not with fire,

Cyrus’s men watching as Xau got to his feet.

Xau looked a question at Li.

“You screamed,” said Li.

Demon fire in his dreams,

but it wasn’t the demon,

but Xau himself

who had led Li into fire,

a few hours ago:

choking smoke, panicked horses,

the wall of flame—

“Are you well?” asked Li.

“Well enough,” said Xau,

pushing away exhaustion,

pushing away the thought

that Li could have died.

Prince Cyrus walked over.

Xau set his hand briefly on Li’s arm,

then bowed to Cyrus,

lifted the weight of the day.

A WARNING

Punctuated by pauses

for Xau’s translator,

Cyrus, Prince of Sumbral,

commander of Tahj’s cavalry,

said to Xau, King of Meqing:

“The fire was set deliberately.

I guessed as much—

no lightning to spark it,

too close,

too sudden—

my scouts found large urns

upwind of the camp.

Probably filled with oil.

Probably you were the target.”

Cyrus glanced at King Xau,

who rode alongside him,

attentive but silent,

no obvious reaction

to Cyrus’s disclosure.

“Probably guessed you were

encamped with my soldiers.

Whether it was the work

of one man or several,

I can’t tell,

but we should put distance

between us and them,

ride all day,

if you can manage it.”

Another glance at Xau

who merely nodded.

“Of course, there might

be zealots anywhere.

Ahead as well as behind.

So I’m taking you back to Meqing

by a different route than you came.

It’ll take longer,

but hopefully avoid