Chapter 10
To wed, is it a mortal custom? The small voice emerged in her murky mind.
Click.
Prayer beads were expensive, especially the ones used in the royal family.
They were made from fine jade, light, luminous, and impossible to replicate by inferior means.
Azul did not have access to such, nor did she care for prayers, so she settled for shuffling her waist beads in her hands, one at a time.
Yes, Azul answered the snake in her sleeve. It was curious, taking in every piece of culture she could feed it. But her mind was preoccupied, trying to see what her next course of action should be. The creature slid up her arm, its head peeking up from her collar.
So you will wed? It asked.
Click.
She stared absentmindedly at the garden around her, swaying lightly on the low-hanging swing attached to an old odara tree.
It wasn’t the season for fruits, which had ruined her mood earlier that morning, but she soon found her mind wandering to nothing and to everything anyway, forgetting she had come all the way there from her isolated courtyard to find something sweet to eat.
That was the question: should she sit and see through the wedding? Or would running away prove more productive? Albeit more uncertain and certainly more dangerous.
Click.
Her gaze settled on an old well tucked away in the corner, mossy growth covering every inch of stone, and butterflies landing by the little pink flowers that dotted the edge.
Her father's instructions swirled in her mind.
Seduce the warlord.
Why? She would be his main wife, wouldn't she? What use would seducing him do? Wasn't it better for him to see her as a sexless creature who could manage his household and maybe give him a son?
Click.
You’ll need the Okpalaeze to protect you.
From what?
Click.
Why do they want to kill him?
She mulled over her conversation with her father over and over, trying to pin the truth down with the little she had extracted from him.
Why must you drag me into your schemes? She asked.
Why did he trust that she would behave? That she would go along with his plans for her? Perhaps it was because he could clearly see she had no other options.
Click.
A sound cut through her thoughts.
Singing.
Azul's fingers stilled on the beads. The voice was low and melodic, carrying through the garden from somewhere deeper in the grove. The words weren't Borjigin—they sounded, from memory, like one of the nine tongues of the Steppes, with consonants that clicked and vowels that stretched like honey.
She rose from the swing, unconsciously following the sound. Curiosity was unlike her; she liked to keep to herself and ignore strange happenings. But not this time.
The garden expanded as she walked, giving way to a clearing she'd never seen before. An odara orchid formed a canopy overhead, dappling the sunlight and protecting them from the harsh sun. Under one particularly large tree, seated on a red woven mat, was the Fourth Wife.
She didn't look up as Azul approached. Her attention was fixed on the board before her.
The grid was larger than go's nineteen lines, the intersections marked with symbols Azul didn't recognise.
Pieces in black and white sat at various points, but they weren't uniform—each was carved into a distinct shape: strongholds, gers, towers, and battalions.
"Ukhel Dain," the Fourth Wife said without looking up. "Do you know it?"
Death’s dance… Azul stopped at the edge of the mat. "I've heard the name."
"That's not what I asked." The Fourth Wife moved a piece—the smaller group of soldiers, leaping three intersections. "Do you know it?"
Azul’s eyes narrowed. "No."
"Most people who claim they do are lying. It’s a game of the Steppes, often played in royal courts. Naturally you wouldn’t know much about it." She finally looked up, and her eyes were the colour of aged bronze—warm, but with a shrewd edge that made Azul cautious. "Sit. I won't bite."
Azul sat.
Up close, the Fourth Wife was beautiful, as were all the withering flowers in the harem.
Tall, with skin like polished ebony and features that hinted at northern blood—a sharper jaw, higher cheekbones, and eyes set slightly wider than Borjigin women.
She wore deep purple wrapped and cinched with a gold belt shaped like a serpent, its head resting just below her sternum.
"I heard you will be leaving soon," the Fourth Wife said, returning her gaze to the board. "For the Grass Sea."
"News travels quickly."
She moved another piece.
"What do you want?" Azul asked, her head feeling strangely light despite sitting without any discomfort.
"Straight to the point. I want you to understand something. Your position, which you see as hopeless, isn't as narrow as it appears."
"You don't know my position."
"You were bought for two hundred silver from a man who picked you off the streets and raised you as his own.
You defended yourself against the Okpalaeze and survived his punishment.
You've made an ally of the abandoned prince and somehow convinced the Third Wife that you're worth trusting with her son's life.
" She finally looked up, meeting Azul's eyes directly.
"That's not the work of someone without options. "
Azul's jaw tightened. "You've been watching me."
She smiled, gesturing to the board. "Look. Tell me what you see."
The board was dense with pieces, their positions chaotic to her untrained eye. She tried to understand, but the more she looked, the less she saw.
"I see..." She hesitated, searching for words. "I see a lot of pieces that don't make sense individually. But together, they're—" She stopped.
"Together they're what?"
"I…don’t know. I can't see clearly; I don't understand the rules." She didn’t bother pretending; she had no idea what she was looking at.
The Fourth Wife's expression flickered. "That's the most honest answer anyone's given me about this game.
" She moved another piece, and Azul watched as a cluster of white suddenly linked to another across the board.
"Ukhel Dain is older than the Borjigin, older than the tribes, older than the Bacchalian Empire.
Ukhel himself plays it with the souls of the dead—each piece a thousand lives, each move a million deaths. "
"I don't believe in the gods."
"The game will be played regardless." The Fourth Wife leaned back, studying the board. "Right now, you're a single white piece in a corner of the board. Every obvious move leads to capture."
Azul's hands tightened on her lap. "Then you see my position clearly enough."
"Akwaugo." There was a twinkle in her eye.
"The board is larger than you think." She reached out and tapped a cluster of white pieces near the centre, their positions seemingly random.
"Your father's ambition, the Okpalaeze's scheme, and the Ugoeze's manoeuvring.
The Iyom's hatred. All of these are moves they think benefit them.
But every move also creates a future they don't control. "
Each player had different plans; the Ugoeze could not possibly know that Somadina planned to use her lapse of judgement in suggesting Azul as Obiageli's replacement to somehow strengthen his position as Crowned Prince and make it harder for any future son she might have to ascend the throne.
"You're saying I should use their schemes against them."
"My words will come and go; you should stop thinking like a piece and start thinking like a player." The Fourth Wife's bronze eyes met hers again, and Azul held back a gulp as her heart raced. "You have four paths. One leads back to what you were—you won't take that one."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're sitting here instead of crying your pretty eyes out in your room.
" She moved another piece—a stronghold, sliding along a line of intersections to encircle a cluster of black.
"The second leads to Somadina's bed, his protection, his version of safety.
You'll loathe it, but you could survive. "
Azul's expression didn't change.
"The third leads to the warlord. Marriage to a man who they call the Punishment of Ukhel made flesh. Survival is possible, but costly. You'll loathe that too."
"And the fourth?"
The Fourth Wife was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer. "The fourth leads out. Beyond the walls. Beyond the tribe. Beyond everything you know."
"You mean death."
"I mean ascension." She gestured at the board, at the single white piece isolated in its corner.
"You're so focused on the pieces around you that you've forgotten the edges of the board.
The game doesn't end at the border. It extends beyond what's visible.
And sometimes—" She moved a piece Azul hadn't noticed, a singular tower so far to the edge it was almost off the grid.
"The winning move is to leave the game entirely. "
Azul stared at the board, at the tower hovering at the edge of nothing.
"The warlord," she said slowly. "You're telling me to marry him." The fourth path was the same as the third.
"I'm telling you to choose him. Not as a sacrificial lamb, but as a path.
A way to ascend." The Fourth Wife began gathering her pieces, her movements unhurried.
"Ever since I was a child, the Grass Sea has been brutal and full of men who kill without thought and women who die without names to be remembered.
But they're also outside. Beyond the reach of the Ugoeze, the Iyom, the Okpalaeze, your father.
Beyond the reach of everyone who thinks they own you. "
"And if I go there and die anyway?"
"Then you die having chosen your death. That's more than most people get." She stood, tucking the folded board under her arm, the pieces clinking softly in their box.
The fourth path was the same as the third, but she had the opportunity to take her own life by the reins.
The Fourth Wife turned to leave.
"Fourth Wife." Azul's voice stopped her. "Can I take your board? I will pay!"