of a horse, Xau on its back,

the king struggling, one-armed,

to haul Li up;

the horse swimming for the edge;

the three men clutching

the horse, each other,

the riverbank. Alive.

THE RIDE BACK

Each breath stabbed Xau,

each footfall of the horse.

Li, seated behind him, steadying him,

nudged Narson faster.

Xau looked round,

saw Donal, the extra horses.

No other movement.

“Do you think. We’re being chased?”

Xau asked, taking a breath

between each few words.

“No. I think our attackers

want to avoid a direct assault,

but it’s not a risk we should take

if you can keep riding.”

“We can ride.”

Rourk dead, Donal’s guard.

His broken body outstretched

on a rock, mid-river—

Donal had turned to look back

at Rourk as they rode away,

the fury on his face

shifting to grief—

Likely the guard was one of the men

that had been closest to Donal,

as Li was close to Xau.

Xau struggled to stop

his thoughts drifting.

He had to apologize to Li.

That was important.

“Li. Sorry. For ordering you

to swim to Donal.”

“It was the right decision.”

“We should have asked. Not ordered.”

Xau shut his eyes, fighting pain,

weighing whether to say more,

surely Li already knew.

Yet, riding away from one guard’s death,

Xau wanted to tell Li

how much he valued him.

Two men close to Xau

killed this past year.

Khyert, once his stableboy.

And Captain Tsung.

And before them, seven years ago,

his brother Keng.

He was drifting again.

“Li, how much further?”

“About an hour.”

A pause, then Li said,

“I advise downplaying your injuries.

If you can ride unsupported,

I’ll change to my own horse

before we reach the fort.”

“Agreed.”

Then neither of them spoke

for a long time,

and what Xau might have said

was left unvoiced.

POSTPONED

Queen Fian stood on the fort’s outer dike,

her pale unbound hair windblown,

watching three riders approach

across the muddy flats.

Long before they neared her,

she had masked both disappointment and triumph:

disappointment that both kings had survived

(their guards didn’t matter),

triumph that the gods

had heard her.

When the riders reached the gap in the dike,

she called down, “Husband, where is Rourk?”

“Dead.” King Donal reined in his horse.

“Dead?” She caught her breath, feigning dismay,

and ran down to him. “And you are hurt!”

“It’s minor. Comfort me later.”

“What happened?”

“The stone figure above the waterfall fell.”

Donal rode on past her,

unaware that he rode past his death,

for though he had postponed death that day,

the gods had answered Fian.

And if she but served those gods better,

surely they would help her kill both kings—

then she would have vengeance,

and more than vengeance,

since her son—

her young, malleable son—

would inherit a throne.

And Fian would rule

from behind that throne.

DISTRACTION

Leong turned to the door’s scrape:

saw Li and King Xau,

the king’s left arm in a sling.

Then Leong in motion, grabbing his bag,