Page 14 of Four Ruined Realms (The Broken Blades #2)

Euyn

The Northern Pass, Khitan

We are around a bell outside of the city walls of Quu when the rain turns to snow. Not a blizzard, but constant large flakes. The fresh snow is pretty, covering the country in a blanket of pure white, but it does make travel trickier. Our horses are halibreds—fast, normally, but not sure-footed winter horses built for trekking through deep snow.

Half a bell later, we find a trading post and exchange our mounts. They don’t have winter horses, so instead we take a sleigh large enough for us and our gear. It is dark wood and around twelve feet long with two benches—one in the front, one in the back. Four califers are tied to it. Califers are a cross between caribou and horses. A team of four will still be slower than winter horses, but they were our only viable option, so we will have to make do.

With Mikail taking the reins, we head directly north to Lake Cerome.

“It’s fucking freezing.” Royo blows a breath into his bare hands.

He’s complained numerous times since we left the Gray Shore Inn. The conditions aren’t that bad—he is just in a foul mood. He’d rather be at the ball with Aeri, and I can’t say I blame him. Between the snow and wind, it’s not a pleasant journey. I’d also rather not risk traveling through the night, but we have to reach the temple before the information disappears, and we need him with us. Someone willing to kill a priest means there’s danger, so the more men we have, the more muscle, the better.

No one knows who the Yoksa are, generally speaking. Of course, spies constantly follow the known Yoksa in Yusan, but they change often. All records have to be brought to the repository by scroll, book, or person, however, and that makes them trackable. The Yoksa are known as independent, and their records veritable truth, but with enough blades and power, history can be malleable.

The old king Theum invaded the Yusanian temple and changed the records not long after he took the throne. I am not certain what he altered—I doubt anyone living knows. But my supposed father is not the only one who has forced his spin on history. The written atrocities of Wei are far milder than what Yusan endured.

And now, someone is trying to alter history in Khitan at any cost. If I had to guess, it’s my sister.

Quilimar is ruthless and more than apt for slaughter. As a teenager, she killed a chambermaid she found fault with. She murdered multiple fencing opponents, despite the fact that those matches were supposed to end at the touch. She claimed all those fights were legal, her competitors agreeing to gamble their lives. And the rumor is she murdered her suitor, the western count’s brother.

When Joon signed her marriage certificate to the King of Khitan over her pleas for mercy, she attacked our brother. She tried to slit his throat, and it was one of the few times I actually saw fear in Joon’s eyes. If I had to guess, Quilimar knows we are in Khitan and she is destroying the exceptions to the Rule of Distance so that no one can reach her again.

“It’s still a day and a few bells to get there?” Royo grumbles, adjusting his coat. He’s seated between me and Mikail, a buffer in our stalemate.

“Normally,” Mikail says. “But we can sleep in shifts, and with the four califers pulling us, I think we will make it there in less time.”

“Great.” The scar on Royo’s face moves as he scowls.

“Royo, maybe you should sleep first,” Mikail suggests. “There’s room in the back of the sleigh for you to lie down.”

I’m not sure if Mikail wants to speak to me privately or if he’s tired of Royo’s sour attitude. Either way, Royo takes the hint and climbs into the back. There are blankets along with weapons and our bags on the bench. None of us were comfortable leaving our things at the inn. I wasn’t comfortable there at all, between the poor quality and the feeling that we were being watched.

Mikail and I sit in silence as he steers the sleigh through the dusky snowfall. The sun sets, but the monsoon moon is huge and illuminates the white snow. The effect creates so much light that it’s easy to see across the open fields. I wish conversation glided as easily as the sleigh.

I look at his handsome profile and wait for him to say something, anything, but the only noises are the wind and Royo’s snoring as we travel toward the moon. The night is so still, the moon so close, it feels like we could reach the lunar goddess. The snow has a kind of magic that makes it difficult to remember that we’re on a dangerous mission to the Temple of Knowledge.

“I think it’s Quilimar,” I say.

Mikail finally looks over at me. He has barely spared me a glance since we reached the harbor, and not many on the ship, either. But his attention still causes the same stirring in my lower stomach, the same pull in my chest.

“I think my sister ordered the murder of the Yoksa,” I add.

He nods. “I’m nearly certain of it, but Joon has a greater plan in motion than just the ring, so he may be behind the murder. It could also be both of them.”

“Both?” I shiver and adjust the hood of my coat as the temperature continues to fall. The wind hitting the open sleigh makes it worse, although Mikail seems unbothered. Then again, he never seems fazed by anything as ordinary as the elements.

“Working together,” he says. “I have been trying to figure out why Joon would keep us alive—specifically me. I am a commoner and a threat to his rule. Surely it would have been easier to kill me in the throne room than to send me on this mission. Yes, the country needs gold, but why break the peace to steal the ring? Why risk another war? Maybe it is all a ruse. Maybe he’s not plotting against Quilimar, but with her.”

I consider the possibility of Joon and Quilimar working together. It would be a formidable alliance if it were possible. But it is not.

“I doubt it,” I say. “Joon and Quilimar genuinely hate each other. When he forced her to marry, it turned from dislike to bad blood. The ring is likely just part of his plan to acquire all the relics of the Dragon Lord.”

Mikail’s eyes shift. “All of them?”

I nod. “You know we constantly try to take the Water Scepter from Wei. And he already acquired the Flaming Sword.”

“Stolen from Gaya during the Festival of Blood, yes,” Mikail says, his jaw tightening. “But the cost to acquire all of them is enormous. Not to mention that the amulet was lost long ago. Joon is pragmatic to the core, and I don’t think he would believe it’s possible to get all five.”

“Since when has a king worried about what is possible?”

Mikail’s eyes narrow, and then he nods. “Fair point, but these relics are invaluable. Khitan will do anything to protect and keep its ring. And the Water Scepter is Wei’s most prized possession. It has never seemed worth the blood price to try to steal it, because even though Wei uses the scepter to magic their waters, their nation would still function without it. They just wouldn’t have an unsinkable navy.”

“You really don’t know the reason?” I ask.

He glances at me, arching an eyebrow, and I can’t help the rush of warmth in my cheeks as his gaze darts to my lips for the briefest of moments. But then he seems annoyed.

“I’m just surprised,” I say. “I figured you knew, as you usually have better sources than I do.”

Mikail smirks and turns back to guiding the sleigh.

I rush on, eager to capture his attention again. “It’s the myth that once a king unites all of the relics on his body, he will become the Dragon Lord on earth.”

Mikail purses his full lips as he stares into the distance. I missed him. I missed just talking with him this past week. My heart feels lighter, better when he’s speaking to me. Even if he won’t get physically close to me ever again, at least I can savor this moment.

“In other words, he will possess all the powers of a god,” I add.

“How is that even possible?” he asks.

“Etherum.” I shrug. But he eyes me. What he meant was that he hasn’t heard the rest of the legend. I clear my throat. “The myth is that as he ascended back into the Heavens, his powers were sealed into the relics. Some versions have the god bound to do the king’s bidding once the relics are reunited. Others have it as more of a merger of a celestial and human being. The result, however, is the same.”

“Stars,” Mikail whispers and snaps the reins to urge the califers into a trot. “With that kind of power…”

“He could do absolutely anything. Reshape the entire world.”

We both sit in the horror of that thought. The realms have not seen that kind of power since the Dragon Lord walked the earth. I can only assume that a man can’t survive becoming a god, but we both know that Joon would do it. He is the most ambitious king Yusan has had in centuries.

Mikail eyes me. “Reshape the world, metaphorically speaking?”

I shake my head. “No, he would use the power to sink Wei into the East Sea.”

Mikail laughs, the sound ringing out into the night. “His goal, with all of that power, is genocide? Of course it is.”

“His goal is to eliminate a centuries-old enemy,” I correct.

Even though it happened years ago, I still remember Joon telling me bedtime stories when I was a boy. Due to the death of King Theum and our twenty-two-year age difference, Joon was like a father to me when I was young. And I used to love him like one. He’d sneak me treats when I couldn’t sleep and tell me how all of Yusan would cheer when the Dragon Lord returned and pushed the isles of Wei back into the sea.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t he provoke Wei in the War of the Flaming Sword?” Mikail says.

He’s not wrong. “After he took the sword from Gaya, Joon thought he could conquer Wei, but we were outmatched due to their navy. There was also a rumor that he couldn’t wield the sword, though I don’t believe that.”

“Nor do I,” Mikail says. “Joon is of royal blood, or the crown wouldn’t work.”

I nod, pretending like I haven’t lived in fear of disintegrating to ash due to the Immortal Crown. I’m glad that’s one of the few secrets that didn’t spill out in the throne room. Mikail is disgusted enough that I didn’t tell him about Chul. I can’t imagine how far he’d slip away if he knew I wasn’t Baejkin.

“Regardless, ever since we lost the war, we’ve had to pay Wei an unreasonable tribute. If we didn’t need to send that money, a lot of the problems could be fixed in Yusan, from poverty to laoli addiction. And with Wei eliminated, we would finally be safe.”

“By ‘Wei eliminated,’ you mean hundreds of thousands of people murdered,” Mikail says. “Killing off nearly an entire race. Sinking islands full of innocent men, women, and children into the sea. Those who had nothing to do with the War of the Flaming Sword or the scepter.”

He smacks the reins, and the califers speed up even more.

Mikail’s posture stiffens, his face full of hate. I’m not sure why he is so disgusted. He calls the people of Wei innocent, but they are not. They had no issue slaughtering untold numbers of civilians in Yusan and Khitan over the last thousand years, and no qualms about taking just as many back to their islands as slaves. Even the Yoksa don’t know how many people they’ve killed and tortured.

During the War of the Flaming Sword, they used Yusanian children and babies for arrow practice. They emptied the brothels in Tamneki and put the indentures aboard their ships to entertain their soldiers. Then they drowned them before they reached the shore. All of them. Noblewomen and first sons were brought back to Wei as prizes, treated as concubines or common pleasure slaves. Wei committed acts never heard of before once they arrived on our shore. Weians are many things, but they are not innocent. At best they are complicit, benefiting from atrocity for generations.

“You know how Joon thinks,” I say with a shrug.

Joon, like all the Baejkin kings, puts Yusan above all else. It is one thing I can say in defense of my family: they truly love our realm. Mikail seems to think there is an issue with not being shepherds of the entire world, when no nation does that. Each realm cares for its own. Each reign stops at the borders.

“And you?” he asks. “Do you believe it would solve our problems, too? To sink the three islands of Wei?”

Technically, it’s more than three. Wei is a hundred islands, but over ninety percent of the population lives on the three main isles. Without Illiyo, Song, and Wal, Wei wouldn’t have any power.

Mikail holds himself casually, relaxing his shoulders, but he stares at me out of the corner of his eyes.

I shrug. “I see his logic. We need to stop the tribute, and I doubt Wei will just agree to forfeit millions of mun. And without the sizable threat of Wei, we would be safe on our continent. As would Khitan.”

Mikail smiles. “I see.”

His gloved hands curl into tight fists, and his jaw ticks. He’s furious, but I don’t understand why.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. I stare at him and wait, but he remains silent. Minutes pass and still nothing. I suppose that was all he wanted to say.

I hate how I wait on him. How desperate I am for him to talk to me. How much it throws me when he’s upset. It should be the other way around. I should be the one sought after. But that has never been the case with Mikail.

“Who is Ailor?” I ask after a few minutes.

More silence greets me.

He doesn’t speak another word. A bell later, I try again to get Mikail to talk, but he simply ignores me. The insult slaps my face harder than this biting wind. No one would have dared ignore me when I was a prince of Yusan. Servants could have been thrown into Idle Lake for that kind of offense. But I am not a prince anymore.

Unless I bring Joon the ring.

With the distance growing between me and Mikail, it seems more and more tempting to regain my old position than our old love.

Yet my skin prickles with an uneasy feeling. I truly don’t know why he is upset. I know he is angry with me for not telling him about Chul, but that doesn’t seem like enough to drive this large of a wedge between us. Plus, the distance started in Tamneki. It has to be something…or someone else. My stomach sours at the thought, and I swallow my conspiracies. Perhaps it is just Chul. I soothe myself with the thought that Mikail is just being stubborn, even though that doesn’t seem quite right.

Either way, it’s going to be a long trip. I hope the girls are doing better than we are.