spoke Innish, a barbarous language

for a barbarous people.

“You’re fortunate, I’m fortunate.”

Connol gulped straight from the wine jar.

“My sister died when she was eight.

Years ago, so of course

it doesn’t matter anymore.

Just like your brothers’ bones.

You’re fine. I’m fine.

We’re both fucking fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Drunk is fine.

Good night, Princess.”

He thumped the wine jar down,

stared brazenly at her bust,

stood up and walked away.

Mei, furious, seized the wine jar,

ran headlong after him,

heedless of who watched.

“You forgot this.”

Connol took the wine jar.

“Thanks, Princess.”

“You also forgot your manners,

forgot the debt your people

owe to my brother, King Xau,

forgot that you know nothing,

nothing about who I am.”

He looked at her oddly,

as if she were a fragile thing,

a sparrow with broken wings.

“I know who you are,

not important enough to matter,

but too important to be allowed

to make choices for yourself.

I’m sorry your brothers died.”

He raised the wine jar in salute. Left.

Slowly, carefully,

as if she walked along a cliff edge,

Mei returned to her seat.

She would not let that man,

that barbarian, upset her.

She nodded to the guest on her left,

painted a smile on her face.

SECOND SIGHT

He’s having visions, or he’s drunk,

or he’s drunk and having visions.

He sees her hands, the thin wrist he held,

her hair, unbound, falling to her waist.

Sees her, grown old, devouring a peach;

her face, its bones, a bird in a cage.

Her shadow leans against a moonlit wall;

he crosses the courtyard to reach her.

Moonlight on swords. Guards.

Thrown to the ground, bruised, bound.

The cell is filled. The cell is empty.

He cannot see her. He cannot see her.

INCIDENT

King Xau sprinted headlong down the halls,

guards hastening at his heels,

sword belted over his pajamas,

to his sister.

Held Mei

as she buried her face

in the silk-sleeved encircling

of his arms.

Held her

as her guards stated the foreign prince

had not touched her below the waist

nor undone his pants

before they downed him.

Held her

as Leong, gentle, took her twelve pulses,

as his own heart rate slowed,

as he ordered Mei’s day-guards woken,

as his advisors descended upon them.

∗

Later,

after he’d left her,

the ramifications and diplomatic repercussions;

the prince’s incarceration, interrogation;

subsequent complications, decisions, consequences.

BLAME

King Donal furious,

heart pounding, head pounding,

woken in the middle of the night

because his brother fucked up—

“He’s badly bruised,” said Xau.

“He never drew his sword

so the guards didn’t kill him,

but they weren’t gentle.”

Fucking stupid Connol—

Whores aplenty, but Connol

determined to stick his prick

into a fucking princess—

Xau set his hand on Donal’s arm.

“Do not blame your brother yet.

We were angry just as you are,

but he is... not himself.”

Donal shrugged off Xau’s grip.

He didn’t need a lecture.

This whole fucking mess

Connol’s own fucking fault.