powdered, painted, perfumed, poised,

her head held high.

Jun Xi fretted from start to finish,

but the queen comported herself well,

the sole breach of protocol

coming from King Xau,

who kissed his new wife

in full view of the court

no fewer than three times.

NEGOTIATION

The acclimatization of the Meqingese court

to King Xau’s new queen

proved a protracted process

of negotiation, compromise,

and occasional capitulation:

That Queen Hana would attend

the principal court functions.

That she would attend them

dressed decorously.

And unarmed.

That in private she could dress

according to the traditions

of the horse tribes,

even down to the trousers

and the knife at her belt.

That, regardless of Hana’s ability

to outshoot her guards,

she might carry

neither bow nor arrows

anywhere within the palace.

That she might ride

whenever and wherever she chose,

provided two guards accompanied her.

That she could take Princess Ying

with her when she rode.

But that she must never again

instruct the eight-year-old in archery.

Moreover, Hana must explain to the princess

why archery was neither a necessary

nor desirable skill in a princess.

That it was... argumentative... of King Xau

to observe that the Ulixian princesses

hunted tigers with the Ulixian court,

and that such customs had no bearing

on court life in Meqing.

That nonetheless the court deferred,

in this as in all else,

to the king’s wishes.

The archery lessons might resume.

Discretion would be appreciated.

STEPMOTHER

Princess,

what are you doing?

Riding beside the new queen,

applauding the arrows

that fly from her bow?

Remember the rules:

mistrust her.

Oh, she’s a huntress, all right,

captured your father’s heart,

or rather his groin.

A man’s prick,

even a king’s prick,

hasty not wise.

Woman,

what are you doing?

Wasting your time on a girl

who threatens your grip

on the throne?

Remember the rules:

the brat’s not your own,

it’s your duty

to hate and despise her.

So honey your tongue

with false promises,

and go plot the princess’s

comeuppance.

Both of you,

stop this at once!

Remember the rules:

you are rivals.

Don’t look to each other

for friendship,

just look to the men

who define you.

Claim your prince!

Claim your king!

For females divided are weaker

and that’s reason enough

for the rules.

KING’S GUARD

Past midnight,

unable to sleep,

Atun sat on the floor of the armory

fletching arrows with Captain Li.

Both men on edge

after the New Year’s banquet:

too many guests,

too many potential threats,

alerting to every raised voice,

every sudden movement.

In the lamplit quiet of the armory,

working side by side,

Atun finally asked a question

he’d long wondered about.

“Captain, why did you pick me

as a king’s guard?”

Years since Atun had ridden to Lipoh,

young and proud and ignorant,

thinking to serve King Xau,

not realizing that tradition

fixed the king’s personal guards

at eight men,

that there would no place

for a barbarian horse warrior.

Li, who’d broken tradition,

who’d spoken to the king