One could not demand happiness,

neither for oneself,

nor for those one loved.

HER THOUSAND FACES

This is not true love.

This is not a fairy tale.

The prince met his princess,

swore, got drunk, walked out.

No use. The thought of her

unhinged him. No, her thoughts

unhinged him. Her thoughts

inside his thoughts: visions,

phantasms, figments, fragments

of future, present, past.

Fractured by her thousand faces,

obsessed, possessed. Jailed.

At last, the thousand aspects

collapsed into a single image,

which stood, silk-robed,

within his cell, lantern in hand.

Her fingers, gentle, sketched

the contours of his bruises.

But in her eyes, he read ruin:

scorn melted not to love, but pity.

How pitiless the pity

of her black and midnight eyes.

He will not inherit the throne.

He will not live happily ever after.

DUTY

Mei found Queen Shazia in the nursery,

the baby, Mei’s nephew,

swaddled in a sling, suckling.

“You saw Prince Connol?” asked Shazia.

“Yes. Just now.”

Mei picked up a tiny pair of red socks,

folded them, put them down.

The barbarian prince still jailed, chained,

but more lucid this time.

Enough himself to know himself half-mad.

Which he deserved for what he’d done to her.

Which he did not deserve,

because he had not known

what he was doing.

Mei had thought this through,

had not slept for thinking on it.

She unfolded the same tiny pair of socks,

said, “Maybe Xau should release Connol

as a gesture of good will.”

“But you wanted him punished!

You wanted him condemned.”

Shazia stared at her.

“I still do.”

She wanted more,

wanted Connol gone,

wanted him never to have been.

She was twenty-one years old;

it was time she looked

beyond what she wanted.

“But what I want,” said Mei,

“is not what must happen.

He is King Donal’s brother.”

As Mei was King Xau’s sister,

the peace between their kingdoms

recent, tentative, jeopardized

by the prince’s imprisonment.

“Oh, Mei, poor Mei.”

Shazia came over,

made awkward by the baby

stirring in the sling,

took Mei’s hand in hers.

“It will be all right.

Connol will return to Innis.

You’ll never have to see him.”

Shazia’s sympathy unbearable.

Mei looked away,

looked down at her baby nephew,

his perfect happiness.

If she went thus far and no further,

she might find happiness. In time.

“At least Artoch will be relieved.”

Shazia spoke lightly,

but concern clear on her face.

“He suggested freeing Connol

and Xau yelled at him:

I heard your brother from two rooms away.

He said you’d endured enough.”

Her brother who bent his life to duty,

yet never asked the same of Mei.

Therefore she must ask it of herself.

Mei straightened her back,

painted a smile on her face.

“I will ask my brother

if it would benefit Meqing

were I to marry Prince Connol.”

WHAT KING DONAL SAID TO HIS BROTHER,

PRINCE CONNOL,

CONCERNING A POSSIBLE WEDDING

BETWEEN PRINCE CONNOL AND THE

PRINCESS MEI

You’re fucking marrying her.