“The true story, as always, is in the details.”
–Jaeth’s Eye
They’re Really Crowning Her – Prologue
“It’s finally happening, isn’t it?” Angko’s father told the pig-buyer the day he came to pick up the piglets. “They’re actually crowning her queen. I would’ve thought the Ikessars would have her assassinated by now.”
“Watch your mouth,” the pig-buyer said, squinting his eyes. “You don’t want the wrong ears to hear.”
“To hear what? That no one wants her on that throne?” Father made the kind of sound in the back of his throat that he did whenever Angko made the stew wrong. “I didn’t think it would get much worse when they let her marry the son.”
“I’m surprised anything still happens these days. We haven’t had a proper Dragonlord in over twenty-five years. Longer, if you don’t count the last one. Not many do.”
“I do,” Angko’s father said, glaring. “You better get those pigs out of here before I change my mind.”
The pig-buyer grumbled under his breath as he shuffled off to the pens. “Send a receipt to the castle to get your pay,” he called out. “I don’t have time for that nonsense. Have to get these things slaughtered before the day is out.”
“You heard the man,” Father said, glancing at Angko.
She walked back inside the house to get a piece of paper and scribble the details down. Five pigs, all in all. Five pigs to feed however many hungry royal mouths. She had roast pig once that she could recall, when she was about six or seven years old. She remembered eating the tail.
Father looked over her work and after a moment’s pause, finally gave his nod of approval. “A man has to still make money,” he grumbled, though he looked conflicted.
“Is there anything wrong, Father?”
“The Ikessars were always the rightful rulers of this land,” Father said. “Now they are crowning the first Ikessar Dragonlord in nearly half a century, but he has to share it with an Oren-yaro Queen. It’s…well, it’s not right.”
She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but Father seemed adamant, so she didn’t argue. She folded the receipt into a square, which she tucked into her pocket. Father gave her enough coin to take a cart all the way to the city square, and she went on her way.
Oren-yaro was a big city, though about half of it were farmlands scattered throughout the low hills. You could see everything from the city square, though. From there, the castle was a long walk up yet another hill, but Angko didn’t mind. It was a clear, sunny day, and the festivities meant there was so much to see. Father had warned her about spending too much time amongst the Oren-yaro, but she didn’t see the harm in looking. Nobody paid a girl much heed, anyway. So much so that when she was making her way up the steps to the castle, a man walked right into her.
“Watch it!” the man hissed.
She doubled back to apologize.
The man started to walk away from her, and then seemed to think the better of it and turned back to look her right in the eyes. “You work in the castle, don’t you?” he demanded.
“No,” she said.
“No need to lie about it.” The man fiddled around in his pocket. “There’s a coin in here for you if you can find me a way into the palace.”
She stared at him. “There’s guards everywhere. There’s no way for me to get you in!”
“If you work here, you’ll know ways in,” the man said. “Open doors, sewers…”
“What do you need?” she asked.
“The princess,” the man said. “The soon-to-be queen. I need to see her.” He said it in a voice that told her he might not have the best intentions.
Angko’s father had told her to watch out for people like these. She turned on her heel and ran.
She dashed through the castle gates, right past two guards, who didn’t seem to bat an eye at her. Maybe children were a common enough sight in the place. They did block the path when they saw the man, though. She didn’t stop to see what they did to him. She’d heard about the Oren-yaro. She could imagine well enough.
A woman grabbed her by the shoulder before she could make it another step. “You,” she said. “Who are you?”
She fiddled around with her pocket. “I’m here to–“
There was a crashing sound, followed by a flurry of swearing. A fight broke out in the courtyard.
“Stay here,” the woman told Angko. She took a step back as she watched the woman stride straight into the chaos.
Someone grabbed her arm, yanking her into the bushes. It was the man from earlier–he had somehow managed to make it past the walls. She opened her mouth to scream, and the man clapped his hand over it. “So, you’re not from here, either. Well, that’s good. You’re going to pretend I’m with you,” he said. “You understand, girl? Because if I’m arrested, I’ll tell them you’re with me.”
She nodded, tears prickling her eyes. Fear had numbed her to silence.
When the woman returned to Angko, she waved the receipt while the man stood behind her, nodding at every word. “Into the kitchens,” the woman said. “Go through the back door. Look for Hessa. She’ll take care of it for you.”
Nobody noticed the man as he all but shoved her forward. She wanted to call for help but thought the better of it. She didn’t know who would help her here. They said the Oren-yaro killed infants in their cribs during the war.
They went through the back door, which led to a hallway. Based on the smell, the kitchen was obviously on the right. The man grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the left. They hid in the shadows when guards came close. They were chatting about the upcoming coronation, and that the future queen was still in her chambers with her husband and son.
“Let me go,” Angko whispered. “You’re already here. You don’t need me.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Didn’t you hear? She’s with her family. They’ll have guards everywhere.”
“If a girl like you asks for an audience, surely they’ll listen.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
The man glanced down at her, his face twisting. “Stop giving me lip, girl. I ought to–“
They heard the stomping of more guards, their heavy boots clinking on the even heavier wooden floors. Angko slid out of the man’s grasp and decided to take her chances with them. She bolted for the nearest guard, whose back was turned.
But then the guard started walking down the steps, followed closely by his companion, and she lost her nerve. She saw the man bearing down towards her from the end of the hall, and she got the sense that he was angry—angry enough to hurt her. Out of desperation, more than anything else, she went straight for the nearest door. The handle turned, to her relief.
She slammed it shut and turned the lock.
She heard the man banging the door behind her once, but that was it. He was probably afraid of the guards hearing him. She waited a few moments, long enough to hear his footsteps disappear, before she turned to unlock the door. But the rusted lock wouldn’t turn.
She had locked herself in a storage room, with no way to get out.
Angko spent the better part of the next hour fiddling with the lock, hoping one of the guards would hear it and investigate. She didn’t care so much about getting arrested anymore. That seemed vastly preferable to having someone stumble on her withered corpse days, maybe even weeks later. How often did the castle staff check their storage?
Afterwards, she got bored, and began to look around the room. There were two windows. One was boarded shut. The other was too high for her to climb, though she figured she could fit through it if she tried. She started to look around for something to step on and dragged a couple of crates from the shadows. One tipped to the ground, spilling its contents and revealing various scrolls and tattered books. As she attempted to pick them up from the floor, one of the scrolls unravelled, revealing a long list of names. Everyone had been crossed off.
At the bottom was a scrawling sign that read “Reshiro Ikessar.” Angko remembered the name from her father’s ramblings. He was the last crowned Dragonlord. What were these names for? She turned the scroll and found another note scribbled on the back, penned by a different hand. It said “All have been taken care of. Report back to the king.”
A feeling of dread crawled over her skin. She shoved the scroll back into the crate. Everyone said the Ikessars had a history of assassinating commoners to support their cause, but her father had always insisted they were nothing but baseless accusations.
The man trying to get inside the castle… Could he be an assassin? She wondered if he had been sent to take care of the princess before she was crowned. She wondered if she was supposed to care.
She heard the door open. “There you are!” a voice called out. She pushed the crates back into the darkness and backed away.
The door flung open, revealing the serving woman who had let her into the castle. “I couldn’t find the kitchen,” Angko quickly said.
“Clearly,” the woman snorted. “Come on, child.” She grabbed Angko’s hand, pulling her into the hall. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”
“Is the princess…” she began. Safe, she wanted to ask.
“Nothing for someone like you to concern herself over,” the woman said. She herded Angko straight back where she had come from, towards the kitchen. There was no sight of the strange man.
The woman took her straight to the cook, Hessa. Angko found the receipt and managed to hand it over without making a fool of herself. Hessa gave her a bag of money for her troubles and didn’t seem at all concerned about Angko’s misadventures. There were other things on their minds.
Another servant was called to escort Angko to the gates. There, she paused again. Should she tell them about the man? Did it matter? Her father didn’t like the woman they would soon call queen, but her murder would surely spark war.
She turned to the woman. “I think someone might try to kill the princess tonight,” she said. “A man followed me here. He’s somewhere in the castle.”
The woman paused, as if wondering whether she was serious. Angko wasn’t so sure herself.
“I’ll tell the guards,” the woman finally replied. “Thank you for letting me know.”
Despite herself, Angko suddenly felt as if she could breathe again. She made it all the way home safely, bag of coin jostling in her hand. But then the wind changed. On the path leading up to their front door, she stopped, realizing it was wide open, the wood rattling against the hinges.
She entered quietly, waiting to hear sounds of her father going about his work in the farm. She heard nothing. “Father?” she finally called out.
Silence greeted her.
She searched the house up and down, and then went out to the pig pens and the chicken coops. Her father was nowhere in sight. Which was unlike him. He would never leave the farm unattended, let alone with the front door like that.
Angko went back inside, where she finally found the bloody footsteps in the kitchen. She also found the note on the back door. It was small, held up by a bit of candle wax. Most people would’ve missed it. All it said was “This property is confiscated by order of Queen Talyien.”
Queen? She wasn’t even crowned yet. Didn’t Angko just save her life? She ought to have known. Royals didn’t notice these things. To a royal, a commoner was as good as an ant.
The neighbour came by later to take Angko away before the guards returned, sending her off on a horse so she could find shelter with her brother in Akki. She never told Angko if her father was alive, which was answer enough for Angko.
On the road, she swore she would have her vengeance someday.
