“I live in my sister’s tent. Ask me.”

“Will you marry me? Please.”

“All right,” said Khidyr.

She lay back down beside him

on the blanket on the grass,

and Leong hugged her tight,

his heart leaping like a boy’s.

HOMECOMING

The day the king was due home,

Huang woke long before dawn.

He lay in bed a while,

searching for sleep,

his thoughts turning on King Xau,

shifting from one memory to another,

all the way back to when Xau

was but the least and youngest

of four princes,

how the boy would sneak

into the stables

any chance he could, and Huang,

not yet promoted to stablemaster,

would teach him to clean a horse’s hooves

or mend a broken halter.

Still dark when Huang gave up on sleep.

He surprised the overnight stableboy

by arriving hours early;

checked on every horse,

every stall, every piece of tack;

went out to the pastures,

checked the horses there,

the fencing, water troughs,

the state of the shade trees;

went back and rechecked the stables.

Heard King Xau’s party

before he saw them—

the clatter of hooves on stone,

the clinking of bridles—

ran to the stables’ main entrance

without thought for the dignity

appropriate to his age—

two of the king’s guards riding ahead

to secure the stables—

Huang nodded to them,

but his eyes on King Xau

in the distance, riding Micha,

both of them looking well,

and then the king spotted him,

grinned, waved.

Huang came up to him

as the king dismounted.

A moment when both men

attended to the mare:

the king loosening her girth,

Huang rubbing her withers

by way of a greeting.

That done,

Huang bowed very deeply,

his old eyes watering a little,

straightened up to find himself

being hugged by King Xau,

held tight and holding tight

for two full breaths.

All that Huang had most needed

to tell the king expressed

before they spoke a word.

SATISFACTORY

The accommodations adequate.

The paper window banishes

the impertinent breeze,

lets the light fall on the carpet,

the silk soft beneath her,

now that she has clawed it

into submission.

Permissible that the king pauses,

pushes away paper and brush,

bends down to stroke

behind her ears.

Later, she will inspect his desk.

Items may need to be rearranged.

The situation satisfactory,

and yet, frankly,

so much more is possible.

The king’s guards should bow to her

whenever she approaches.

Each day at noon, a bell should ring,

announcing a trifold offering

of pigeon, mouse,

bowl with goldfish.

Jade would be acceptable,

for her statue.

TIAN

Two of the king’s guards came in

to check his rooms

while Tian—

King Xau’s elderly cleaning woman—

was changing the bed.

Tian distracted

until the king followed his guards,

his baby son in his arms,

until Tian had seen for herself

that the king looked well.

“Tian, we’ve chosen a name.”

Xau brought the baby over to her.

“Khyert, this is Tian.”

Unheard of for a king to entrust