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The Ikessar Falcon
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"The Ikessar Falcon retains the excellent characterization and intrigue of The Wolf of Oren-yaro while expanding both its world and the plot at a head-spinning rate. It does everything the middle book of a trilogy should with an uncommon degree of authorial skill, and is a thoroughly entertaining read in its own right."―BookPage
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng
THE STORY SO FAR…
They called me the Bitch Queen, the she-wolf, because I murdered a man and exiled my king the night before they crowned me.
So begins the story of Queen Talyien, daughter of Warlord Yeshin, a man who declared civil war on the ruling clan years before her birth, and who only accepted a truce on the condition that his daughter be betrothed to their heir and be crowned queen.
Or so the books might say. She herself is convinced of it; that her moment of failure began at the point when she could not hold her marriage together. Five years of unstable rule followed Prince Rayyel’s departure, until the land could no longer utter the queen’s name without a hint of sarcasm and more than a shred of anger. She fought back, retreating behind an armour of barbed words and threats. To them, Warlord Yeshin, the mass murderer, and Talyien, Yeshin’s bitch pup, are one and the same; with Yeshin dead, Talyien took the brunt of their hatred.
But Queen Talyien and Tali are different edges of the same sword—one a mask, the other a woman. Tali, who grew up motherless in Oka Shto, whose only family was a frail old man who could be both terrible and kind at once, tried to seek solace in her betrothal to the indifferent Prince Rayyel. Initially rebuffed, later gradually accepted, she found her world shattered when she learned of her betrothed’s relationship with another warlord’s daughter. She, in turn, found comfort in the arms of her oldest friend. Afterwards, she resolved to put everything behind her and embrace her responsibilities, rendered bitter by reality.
Rayyel, however, abandons her three years later. And she doesn’t hear from him again until five years into her rule as queen, when a message comes asking her to meet with him across the sea, in Anzhao City in the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro. Her eagerness to reconcile is mixed with her anger. Her general suggests she use the opportunity to declare war against her husband’s clan, as he has been urging her to do for years; against his will, she travels with a handful of guards and her adviser, relying on political goodwill to carry them the rest of the way.
She is sorely disappointed when she realizes that the power of a queen of a small nation is hardly recognized by officials of the mighty empire. A deputy, Ino Qun, shelters her and insults her almost in the same breath; Qun’s wife drops cryptic words. On the way to the meeting, chaos breaks out in the streets, and Tali finds herself separated—whether by accident or on purpose—from her guards. She wanders the streets and meets a con artist, Khine Lamang, whom she assists in swindling a shopkeeper. In exchange, he takes her to the restaurant where Prince Rayyel is waiting. Prince Rayyel is accompanied by a priestess and the governor of Anzhao City, Gon Zheshan.
The meeting goes nowhere; Prince Rayyel wants Queen Talyien to cede half of Jin-Sayeng to him. The treaty that put them both on the throne required that they rule together, but never laid out the circumstances. Before the meeting can conclude, they are attacked by assassins. Tali finds herself alone and without her guards in the slums, where her position matters even less. She finds one of her own guards in prison; before he is beaten to death by the city watch, he tells her that her own guards have been acting suspiciously and she would have been better served if she had kept her old captain, Agos. She encounters a gambling lord, Lo Bahn, and barely escapes being made into his whore; the only sympathetic soul she meets is Khine, whom she runs into again. She initially distrusts him—everyone she has met has only been looking out for themselves.
But Khine is persistent, and she slowly grows to enjoy his company, sharing what she can of her life, or at least what she feels she is allowed to. With him, she finds it easy to be herself, to drop the queen’s act and be seen as she is, unjudged, with no expectations.
Lo Bahn catches up to her while she is recuperating in Khine’s abode. She escapes and learns from her maidservant that Gon Zheshan is holding her husband captive. She also confirms the deaths of her adviser, Arro, and what appears to be half her guardsmen. The other half, including her captain, Nor, are missing.
Talyien finds herself trying to seek aid from the emperor’s Fifth Son, Prince Yuebek, to save Rayyel. She is separated from Khine on the road, but is picked up by Governor Radi Ong—Prince Yuebek’s father-in-law—and taken to Zorheng City, a fortress on the riverbank seemingly built by mages. It doesn’t take long for Tali to surmise that Prince Yuebek is a madman. He offers to marry Talyien and kills his own wife as a show of solidarity. And because Talyien continues to refuse, he throws her in prison.
Months later, Tali wakes up in a strange room, where she encounters the ghosts of her brother and her father. Yeshin berates her, telling her she has failed because she fell in love with Rayyel. This confuses her, because she thinks her duty was to love him—her zealousness came from both her own feelings and her loyalty to her father. She realizes she is still being chased by an assassin and narrowly escapes. She finds a note on the dead assassin telling her that her husband was behind the attempt on her life.
She returns to Khine, but the comfort of his company is short-lived as she finds herself reunited with not just her guards but also her old friend Agos. She also learns there is an embargo preventing travel from the empire to Jin-Sayeng.
With Khine and the gambling lord, Lo Bahn, she sets in motion a plan to infiltrate Governor Zheshan’s office and confront Rayyel. But here she comes face-to-face not with her husband but with Prince Yuebek, who reveals to her two things: that he is a mage with a strong connection to the agan, and that he planned everything, including the assassin, in order to convince her to fall for him and discard her husband. Because none of his tricks worked, Yuebek threatens her son, telling Talyien he knows the truth—that the boy could be a bastard whose life is forfeit if the rest of the nation finds out. He also tells her that it was Talyien’s own father, Yeshin, who promised her to him first, in exchange for his power and his army; her betrothal to Rayyel was a sham. Warlord Yeshin’s desire to win his war was too strong, and he undermined his own treaty in order to claim victory once and for all. Talyien’s own men had betrayed her to deliver her to Yuebek.
Refusing to believe Yuebek’s claims, Talyien delivers him a killing blow and watches as he runs into a burning room. She returns to Lo Bahn’s, where Governor Zheshan commits suicide after confirming how Yuebek has attempted to blackmail him into betraying Rayyel.
Still reeling from everything she has learned, she receives a note from Rayyel asking for another meeting. Even though Tali is aware it might be another trap, Khine convinces her to go, as she is still holding on to the hope that somehow she can salvage her marriage.
Tali finally meets Rai, who confesses he has always loved her. The reader learns that it is the knowledge of his wife’s affair, and that her son may not be his, that caused him to walk away; already damned by the politics that gave birth to their lives, their mistakes hastened the ruin. He swears to make things right, that he is seeking mages that will help reveal the truth, and that if the boy is not his, he will kill him himself.
The novel ends with Tali trying to grasp on to the last shreds of her father’s rhetoric: A wolf of Oren-yaro does not beg. A wolf of Oren-yaro suffers in silence. But her downfall is just beginning…
THE ROAD TO JIN-SAYENG
THE PRICE OF INNOCENCE
A thousand hooves trampled the sky the night my father died.
No words can describe what it feels like to gaze at the man you looked up to—a man you respected, and loved, and feared—and realize that somewhere along the way, he turned into a shadow of his former self. That he had, in fact, been fading for years, and was simply doing a remarkable job of pretending the world wasn’t falling apart. Where there was once power, presence, and might, now there was only sickness and the stench of death: not yet the sweet-stink of a rotting corpse, but a moldy, urine-tinged scent, one that seemed to crawl away from his stiffening body and up the walls to fill the entire room.
The storm started with his last breath. I found myself sinking back into the chair, frozen in terror as the lightning flashed over his shadowed face, revealing the hollows under his eyes, spidered with black veins. Deep-green bruises, cracked lips, yellow-white skin, wrinkled as parchment. I had been instructed to inform Lord General Ozo first should my father succumb to his illness, but I couldn’t even find the courage to stand, let alone look away from the withered image of the man who used to be strong enough to lift me on his shoulders. You’re alone now, my thoughts whispered, a thin thread that sought to wrap itself around my heart. You will no longer be able to depend on him. From now on, everything falls on you.
The sobs stopped at my throat, settling inside my chest and wrenching the breath out of me. My eyes burned, but I forced the tears not to fall. What if one of the soldiers walked in and saw Yeshin’s heir red-faced and bawling away like a child? The other warlords would think us weak, that they all made a mistake when they bequeathed the Dragonthrone to an Orenar. To an Oren-yaro. Would I let it all turn to dust after everything my father had sacrificed?
I slowly let go of Yeshin’s hand, curling mine into a fist, before I reached up to plant a kiss on his wrinkled forehead. It was still covered in a layer of cold sweat. I wanted to say something, to utter a prayer or words of farewell for a man whose name carried a weight that could break the world. But silence seemed to be the only fitting poetry for someone who had lived as Warlord Yeshin had. So instead, I swallowed and murmured an oath that I would do everything it took to make his dreams become a reality. A united land, prosperous in the way the Ikessars couldn’t make it, with the discipline and the ideals that made the province and the people of Oren-yaro stand head and shoulders above the rest. And so even if it meant facing my fears, if it meant walking the road laid out for me…if it meant becoming someone I was not…
He was dead and yet I still carried on in my head like he was listening. It started there; it never stopped. And there was never a time since that I didn’t find myself carrying out my duties to the echo of his voice—to that sharp, lightning-like roar of it, the one that could crumple my very soul.
It was that same voice that reached deep into me and forced me to consider my failures the day I lost my husband. My quest for Rayyel was a twisted reflection of the turbulence around me, a lighthouse in a stormy sea. I was accused of blindness, of obsession, of allowing my love for a man to become the center around which my life spun. I hardened myself to it. Embraced it. Call me what you want—irrational, careless, an idiot, even—every name you can think of. I know. I’ve told them to myself for years. When you internalize such thinking, allowing it to settle into your bones so deeply you know your own weaknesses to be a fact, it becomes a kind of foolhardy strength. Make of that what you will.
So when the bitter truth came—when my husband declared that he had loved me after all, when I had long convinced myself that I was the one holding our marriage together—my world came crashing down. For the longest time, to hear those words was all I ever wanted. He loved me, but because three days before my wedding, I had fled from his ancestral city straight into another’s arms, he could no longer be certain if our son was his. There is nothing worse to wash down anger than the taste of your own mistakes.
A just reaction, so many others will say. Rayyel deserved it after what he had done—after his own betrayal, his own languid affair with another warlord’s daughter. But they don’t understand. They don’t understand that it was the kind of emotional reaction my father used to warn me against, proof enough to remind me that I was not what my father needed me to be, that I did not deserve to be Warlord Yeshin’s daughter. What strength I thought I had was laughable—I needed to be more than this. Jin-Sayeng needed me to be more than this. Thousands had lost their lives to get me to where I was. If I faltered, thousands more would follow.
It was as if I had taken a sharpened knife and stabbed my father’s dreams over and over. The worst part was that I didn’t do it to rebel. I didn’t do it out of spite. I did it because my position was an iron hand around my throat and I needed to catch a moment’s breath. The failures of youth; Yeshin could’ve done better than to pin all his hopes on someone like me. A brilliant mind, but he was wrong about the one thing he couldn’t afford to be wrong about.
To speak of my father has always left me hollow, and to write about his death is to scrape my insides out and smear them over this ink-stained paper. To speak of my failures to the land I was entrusted leaves me with the urge to rip my work apart and burn it on the candles. I imagine the sight of these in flames would give me a measure of satisfaction, if only because I cannot erase the details from my own memories. But I am not exactly in my own home, and Sayu would frown on that—if she doesn’t throw me out first. She has also made it clear how much more expensive this paper is than what she uses for her own scribe work, and while I’m sure she won’t lecture a queen, her sigh alone might cut me. The very presence of the woman shrivels me like a brush of shadow over a touch-me-not plant; I do not want to imagine what my father would say that a peasant’s judgment of a queen should hold so much weight. The queen of Jin-Sayeng, worrying about paper?
But the thought only fills me with sorrow, that I know so little of my land after all these years. That crisscross in the grains of the paper, for instance, is supposed to mean the paper comes all the way from the mills in Natu, with trees from the low-lying lands there. This ink was made in a factory in Kai, one that has been with the same family since Reshiro’s reforms that allowed merchants to operate outside of the warlords’ influence. Sayu told me they are struggling now—ink is not as prized as weapons these days. They have asked for help before; I have a vague recollection of those papers on my desk somewhere, fully intending to get Arro to take care of it at some point in the future. Arro, who now lies in a mass grave somewhere in the empire—the land of his birth, but not his chosen home.
I pause, blots of ink dripping from the end of my pen. I wonder if maybe I should proceed forward—to talk about the events that transpired immediately after my bitter separation from my husband in Anzhao City. Should I talk about how Agos tried to chase him down to the docks and was blocked by Zheshan’s men? Maybe I can speak instead of when I returned to Lo Bahn’s mansion just in time to see him dragged out by officials in chains, face as hard as a rock. He had seen me on the street, and for a moment I was afraid he would betray me. But as soon as our eyes locked, he looked away, and I heard him say, “I don’t know anything, you sons of bitches.”
They set him free a day later. “None the worse for wear,” he hissed through bloodstained teeth. He was covered in bruises, one eye swollen so shut it left only a thin crease behind, and when he tried to wipe the blood from his lips, I saw that his fingernails were torn out. “I hope you’re enjoying the hospitality, Queen Talyien.” His servants led him away to see a healer, and I didn’t see him again for days.
Where do I begin with the violence and terror that follow my waking moments? It will take me years to write it all down, and I don’t have years. I must pick only the parts that fit the puzzle in the hopes of it forming a picture somehow. In retrospect, it is frightening to realize how easily the worth of our lives can be broken down. How easy it is to say words like she lived, and caused sorrow. Small things build up over time, and suddenly your legacy looks nothing like you imagined it to be. Not even a queen can live with the reassurance that her life will be of value. If my father had been alive, he would have never understood how his precious daughter is nothing but the sum of her mistakes.
“Staring at that won’t make the words come any faster,” Sayu says, looking up from her own work: that curved, elegant handwriting, so beautiful it ought to be preserved behind a glass case somewhere.
“A pity. I was hoping it would.” I give her a small smile, considering my own messy scribbling. I still do not know how to talk to her about any of this—facing it myself is enough of a struggle. I am grasping for a word now, turning the thoughts inside my head for that one, perfect response if my father ever pointed that wrinkled finger at me again. Why, child? What happened to the daughter I raised? What went wrong with you?
Ignorance—yes, that’s the word. Because only an ignorant woman would willingly swallow a vat of poison in the hopes of finding a cure. Maybe another would have been allowed the mistake, but I was the lady of Oren-yaro, future queen of Jin-Sayeng. I was supposed to understand the significance of my every move. My father had drilled these things into me the moment I was old enough to know my name was Talyien aren dar Orenar. I was the Jewel of Jin-Sayeng, a symbol of peace, a double-edged sword. I wielded enough power to send men running for the door or falling at my feet—an army of ten thousand, my father’s bloody legacy around me like a shawl.
But in those moments of my mistake, I had dropped all trappings and left behind a girl of eighteen. Old enough to know better, but still too young to understand the nature of the world, the pitfalls that could open up and trap you. I remember the rain, the lightning across the sky and the thunder that followed, pounding against the glass windows of the inn. The smell of mint and beeswax candles, the ringing of wind chimes spinning with the storm. The hollow sensation of loneliness, of broken illusions and dreams disappearing rapidly, like a bucket of water upturned into the sea.
I cranked the door open and called for Agos. In crowded inns, he usually slept in front of the doorway by the hall, refusing to get his own room. I had long stopped insisting. I heard him stir from the shadows at the sound of my voice.
“Princess,” he said, stepping inside with the surety of a beast stalking through the night. “Do you need something?”
“I’m frightened of lightning,” I blurted out, forgetting whatever excuse I had planned to give.
A puzzled expression drifted over his face. “Lightning,” he said evenly. “Not thunder?”
“Lightning,” I repeated. “The flash, the crackle. Not the rumble.”
“You.” He didn’t sound like he believed me.
Almost as an answer, another flash of lightning lit up the sky, and I cringed involuntarily. His eyes widened, as if he had only just realized I meant what I said. A few moments later, the thunder broke through and I felt the tight grip of fear loosen itself around me. I was able to breathe again.
“Do you want me to make it go away?” he asked, a hint of laughter behind his voice.
He was still wondering if I was serious or not. “I could ask around for the nearest temple…” he started.
I sighed. “I didn’t mean…I am joking, Agos. Partly.” A third flash, another cringe.
Agos continued to stare. “I can’t tell, sometimes.”
“Really? After all these years?”
“Just sit with me. Talk.” I placed my hand on the mattress.
Agos took the furthest edge. He looked uncomfortable, like he was about to fall off. He placed his hands on his knees. “Are you all right now?” he asked. “You didn’t tell me why we left the Dragon Palace as quickly as we arrived.”
“Tell me about training,” I said, ignoring his question. “I’ve heard General Ozo is a bit of a hard-ass.”
“A princess shouldn’t speak like that.”
“A princess hangs around long enough with soldiers like you, she’s bound to pick up a few things. Come on, Agos. We haven’t seen each other in years.” I had been fifteen the last time he had visited Oka Shto. “Surely you have some amusing story to tell.”
“I don’t…” he began. He scratched his cheek. “Nothing I could repeat in polite company. Especially not in front of a lady.”
I punched his arm. I used to do that often when we were younger. His reaction now was more subdued than I remembered.
“You’ve got to act like one, too,” he murmured, rubbing his skin as if I’d actually hurt him. “You’re going to be a wife soon. What would Prince Rayyel say?”
The smile I had pasted onto my face disappeared. Hearing my betrothed’s name felt like a blow to the head. I dropped my gaze. “I don’t want to talk about Rayyel.”
The fourth flash of lightning, and then thunder almost immediately after. And then the rain, pouring so hard around us that I scarcely noticed I had thrown myself at him. I was afraid of lightning. It wasn’t something Warlord Yeshin’s daughter should readily admit. If my father had known when he was alive, he would’ve locked me in a shed during a storm to try to knock it out of me, or at least numb my senses to it.
“Princess Tali…” I heard Agos grumble.
My hands were wrapped around his shirt. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, glancing down so that I didn’t have to look at his face. “I’m…”
“What the hell did Prince Rayyel do to you, anyway?”
“Nothing,” I quickly said. “He did nothing.” He did nothing while letting that woman do whatever she wanted with him. Chiha, Warlord Lushai’s daughter. I didn’t see her face, but it had to be her. Her father had wanted to undo everything mine had worked so hard for while maintaining a pretence of friendship.
I let my hands fall to the side. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. My own weakness disgusted me. I could almost feel my father shaking my shoulder, telling me to stand tall, to think clearly. I was better than this. I took a deep breath. “Please. You may go, if you want.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “If I want?”
“I don’t know anymore.” I could hear his shallow breathing, and I looked up to catch sight of his flushed face, of the rise and fall of his broad chest. What had happened to my childhood friend, the older boy who didn’t think twice about indulging my harebrained schemes? I was acutely aware that this was now a man beside me. I tried to shut the images of the last few hours from my mind, the sound of Chiha moaning on my betrothed’s bed.
“Would you stay with me tonight?” I asked. I could barely recognize my voice.
“If I want,” he repeated. His own had dropped another octave.
I hesitated, and then nodded. I noticed his hand had been on my elbow. He now slid it up my arm, testing my reaction. I didn’t flinch, allowing him to touch my bare shoulder.
He started to kiss me, but I twisted my head away from him. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted at that moment, but I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want that sort of intimacy—I didn’t want to play at love. He took the hint and let his lips fall on my neck instead.
There was a clicking sound. I watched in horror as the door opened and the innkeeper barged in. “Your horses are—” he began. He saw us on the bed and his face turned as white as his beard. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m…” He walked out just as quickly, slamming the door behind him.
I cleared my throat. Agos got up. At the doorway, he turned to me. “Are you sure about this?”
I almost said no. Wasn’t this the sort of thing I was supposed to iron out with my betrothed first? I knew in the back of my head that I could approach the council with evidence of Rayyel’s wrongdoing, which would discredit him without the blame falling on me. It was the kind of thing that would strengthen my support among the warlords, too—in a land as idealistic as Jin-Sayeng, adultery was seen as a great affront. It was true we weren’t married yet, but there was protocol about these things, small subtleties I could’ve taken advantage of.
But I didn’t have a template on feelings. I was aware I was acting irrationally, but I didn’t know how to handle it. And so I didn’t stop Agos when he locked the door and returned to me. One hand on my knee, he paused long enough to take his shirt off. I had seen him naked before, but five years in the army had transformed his stocky body into something unrecognizable, one of hard muscle and scarred flesh. His skin, which had once been as pale as mine, had tanned considerably under the sun. I made myself touch him, half curious at the sensation stirring within me, but also half wishing it was Rayyel there instead.
Agos moved like a man possessed, as if he was afraid I would change my mind at any moment. He untied my shirt, sliding it off my shoulders, and pushed me back onto the bed, rough fingers running over my skin as if it were made of glass. Lips on my neck again, and then down on my breasts, one after the other, hot mouth hungry for my flesh. I lay still, unsure exactly of what I was supposed to do, what was expected of me. No templates, like I said. I had them for everything but this.
I could feel his hardness on my leg. A slight attention to it was all it took, and now he was unbuckling his pants and spitting on his hand. He slid into me, hard enough to make me gasp in pain, and only then—only then—did it occur to him exactly what was happening. I could see it in his eyes, the horror on his face as the blood began to run down my thighs. This was not a thing I just did, a thing I had picked up for fun in the few years since we had last been friends together. He had just claimed my maidenhood.
“Gods help us both, Princess,” he exhaled. “What are we doing?”
- "The power plays are woven tightly into the action, as Villoso broadens her worldbuilding and adds some surprising twists ... A must for epic fantasy readers."—Library Journal (starred review)
- "The Ikessar Falcon retains the excellent characterization and intrigue of The Wolf of Oren-Yaro while expanding both its world and the plot at a head-spinning rate. It does everything the middle book of a trilogy should with an uncommon degree of authorial skill, and is a thoroughly entertaining read in its own right."—BookPage
- "Villoso crafts believable, complex characters and spices up the politics with dragons and magic. Fantasy readers will enjoy this intricate epic and be pleased by the broadening scope of the series."—Publishers Weekly
- "The Wolf of Oren-yaro is intricate, intimate, and intensely plotted. Full of subtle poignancy and remarkably genuine characters - even the rotten ones. I loved this book."—Nicholas Eames, author of Kings of the Wyld, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "Intimate and epic. It compels you to read on, because it's a story about people not characters, civilizations not settings, and deadly power plays not sanitized throne-room politics."—Evan Winter, author of The Rage of Dragons, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "A powerful new voice in epic fantasy. Villoso deftly creates an intricate and compelling world of high fantasy intrigue and adventure dominated by a crafty, whip-smart heroine determined to unite her kingdom at any cost."—Kameron Hurley, author of The Light Brigade, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "A tale balanced on the blade's-edge between intrigue and action - and then Villoso twists the knife."—Gareth Hanrahan, author of The Gutter Prayer, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "Deeply compelling and wonderfully entertaining, The Wolf of Oren-yaro feels at once timely and timeless. K. S. Villoso's lush and finely crafted world envelops readers from the first page, as she takes us on an adventure full of heartache, hope, and triumph. It's a fabulous read!"—Josiah Bancroft, author of Senlin Ascends, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "Delivers complex and intriguing characters, and an action-packed plot full of surprising twists and deep, vivid world building."—Melissa Caruso, author of The Tethered Mage, on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "[A] remarkable tale of nonstop tension, action, and betrayal . . . This excellent work will appeal to all readers of epic fantasy."—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "Readers will be swept in by this strong protagonist and stunning worldbuilding, with a plot full of questions and surprises. Villoso's cunning, exciting debut is a new fantasy epic that readers will clamor for."—Library Journal (starred review) on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- "Villoso's debut draws on Filipino culture and myths to create a detailed fantasy world and uses the first person narrative of a beleaguered queen to explore a tale of secrets, lies, betrayal, and treason."—Booklist on The Wolf of Oren-yaro
- On Sale
- Sep 22, 2020
- Page Count
- 640 pages