on Atun’s behalf,

didn’t answer at first.

The captain finished the arrow

he was working on, said,

“Who would you pick

as a replacement guard,

if we needed one now?”

“Feng,” said Atun at once.

“Why not Zuo?”

The captain’s gaze on him,

steady, intent.

“Zuo would be a fine choice.

He’s better with a sword

and at hand-to-hand than Feng.”

“So why Feng?”

“Because of the fire drill.”

Among the many men

serving as palace sentries,

only a dozen whom the captain

entrusted to stand watch

outside the king’s bedroom.

Feng and Zuo the two on duty

the night of the drill.

—Atun had been stationed

in the king’s bedroom itself,

had heard King Xau scream,

seen him hurtle out of bed

as Feng and Zuo ran in

yelling “Fire!”

—No matter that Li had forewarned

the king of the drill,

for those first few moments

Xau had thought himself

back in the forest flames,

back in Sumbral.

“Zuo did everything he was meant to,

got the king and queen outdoors.

Feng... did more.”

—Outside, in the courtyard,

the king composed, controlled.

Feng the one who’d noticed

Xau scanning the doors, the windows,

who’d said, quietly,

“The captain’s fine, Your Majesty.

He’s running the drill from inside.”

—Feng who had guessed

that the king was still

halfway back in the forest fire,

picturing Li trapped in flame.

“After the drill,

the king couldn’t sleep.

We spent hours walking

round the palace.

Feng told him stories.”

Li’s eyebrows rose. “Feng?”

Atun nodded.

Feng was usually reserved

to the point of reticence,

yet he’d spun long rambling stories,

each one ending in a bad pun,

had done so until the king

relaxed enough to groan

at the puns.

“I think,” said Atun slowly,

“that both Feng and Zuo

would shield the king in battle,

but Feng the one

who would follow him

into fire.”

Atun looked over at his captain,

his captain who had done exactly that,

that night in the forest.

“As would you,” said Li,

“which is why I chose you

as a king’s guard.”

VETO

“Stop! Do not mount that horse!”

Hana’s husband, King Xau,

who never shouted,

stood at the stable entrance.

Shouting. “Do not ride!”

“What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

Hana looked to Gerel, her mare—

the horse fine as far as Hana could tell.

Xau ran over, followed by his guards.

“Don’t ride!”

“Why not?” Hana calm, reasonable.

Xau—what?—panicked? angry?

“You are not to ride

while you are pregnant.”

A moment to absorb what he’d said,

longer to realize he meant it,

to quash the first three things

she thought of yelling at him,

to say, instead,

calmly, reasonably,

“I feel fine. I am fine.

And I choose to ride.”

“We forbid it.”

“You forbid it?!”

“We forbid it.” Xau took Gerel,

led the horse back to her stall.

“The horse’s movement could hurt you.

Or you could fall.”

“I could have fallen yesterday!

I could fall while walking

down the palace stairs—

Do you think my mother stopped riding