Sunburner (Moonburner Cycle Book 2) Read online

  Hiro handed her the water flask that hung on his belt and saw to her other orders.

  Kai sat gingerly on the edge of the bed next to the man. He rolled about in the tangled sheets, deep in his delirium. He was thin but wiry with salt-and-pepper hair and a face deeply lined from a lifetime of sun and hard work. His ragged trousers and worn shirt stuck to him, soaked through with sweat.

  Kai felt his forehead and let out a gasp. He had a raging fever. Despite this, his color was pallid and his lips were almost blue, as if he were chilled to the bone.

  Hiro returned with the man’s wife.

  “How long has he been like this?” Kai asked.

  “Two days, Your Majesty,” the woman said.

  “Was he exposed to anything?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” the woman said, desperation in her voice.

  “Did he receive an injury? A wound or a bite? Could it be an infection?”

  “No,” the woman said. “But he does have some strange marks.”

  “Show me,” Kai commanded.

  The woman knelt next to the bed and unbuttoned her husband’s shirt.

  Kai hissed and stood up, backing away from the man into Hiro.

  “What is it?” Hiro asked.

  The man had red-ringed marks covering his chest and stomach.

  “We’re leaving,” Kai said. “We will send a moonburner healer for your husband as soon as we return to the citadel,” she told the woman. “Keep him well hydrated and as cool as you can until she arrives.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said, still on her knees. She tried to grasp Kai’s hands, but Kai jerked back involuntarily.

  Kai swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, striding from the farmhouse.

  “Mount up,” Kai called to the hunting party, who had dismounted and were fanning themselves by the side of the road. “We head back to Kyuden.”

  Kai swung onto her mount and trotted off, leaving the rest to follow. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She willed it to slow.

  Quitsu leaped from the ground onto the saddle in front of her. This was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t startle her horse anymore. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Hiro approached from the other side. He had put the pieces together. “That was the spotted fever, wasn’t it,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t know it had spread this far.”

  Kai nodded, refusing to look at him. “Neither did I.” Her voice sounded hollow. “The only reported cases came from the outskirts of Miina.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Hiro said. “We’ll find a cure before it infects too many.”

  “We’d better,” Kai said. “I touched him.”

  The hunting party reached the citadel an hour later. Kai felt fine, despite being worn out from the hunt and the heat of the day.

  “We don’t know for certain that I’ll get it,” Kai had said, more to reassure herself than Hiro. She couldn’t afford to fall ill with Miina in such a precarious position.

  Hiro had opened his mouth, no doubt with a concerned but nevertheless patronizing lecture about taking unnecessary risks. Thankfully, he had shut it. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said. “Whatever happens.”

  Gratitude had welled in her. There was no criticism he could have leveled that she wasn’t already berating herself with tenfold. It had been a foolish risk to tend to the man herself. But the only other reported cases of the fever had been hundreds of leagues from here. She had only wanted to help.

  Kai stifled a sigh as she dismounted and handed her horse to a servant.

  “I’m going to give the news to my council,” Kai said to Hiro. “I’ll see you later?”

  He nodded, concern etched across his tanned face. “I’ll come check on you.”

  Kai blew him a sorry little kiss and turned to Emi. “Will you find a servant to gather my council? We have work to do.”

  The queen’s council met in a long rectangular room lined with parallel rows of high windows. It housed a polished wooden table flanked by high, stiff-backed chairs, and the whitewashed walls were decorated with tapestries bearing scenes of grisly battles plucked from the annals of burner history and lore. Kai sometimes glanced at those tapestries to remind herself of the cost of a wrong decision. Or even a right one.

  Kai stood in the corner of the room near her usual chair to put more space between herself and her advisors. One by one they filed in.

  Her mother, Hanae, formerly Azura, arrived first, her graying hair pulled into an elegant bun that complimented her neatly-tailored lavender gown. She took the seat to Kai’s left.

  Next came Nanase, headmistress and armsmistress of the Citadel, known reverently by students as the Eclipse. Her stern face was covered in a sheen of sweat. Judging by the leather armor she was removing and depositing on the floor next to her chair, she had been summoned in the middle of a sparring round. Her silver eagle seishen, Iska, flew through the doors after her and perched on a bookshelf in the corner of the room as Nanase dropped into the chair next to Kai’s mother, blowing out a deep breath.

  Nanase was soon followed by Quitsu and Master Vita, Quitsu moving slowly to match Master Vita’s shuffling steps. Master Vita’s bright white hair looked even more disheveled than usual. He struggled to pull the big chair out from the table and lowered himself into it gingerly, leaning his cane against the table. He was still weak from his near-death fight with consumption, but he had been nursed back to some semblance of health by Hanae’s skilled hands.

  The last member of their council came in a few seconds later proceeded by her silver raccoon dog seishen. Chiya and Tanu padded to the final chair at the table. Chiya straightened her navy uniform and sat down, tossing the end of her silver ponytail over her shoulder. Tanu curled up at her feet. Chiya had healed from the bolt of lightning Queen Airi had struck her with at the now infamous Battle at the Gate, though she had lost the baby she had been carrying. Kai had appointed Chiya to a teaching position at the citadel and to her council. Despite their former animosity, Chiya seemed committed to the citadel and to serving her queen. More importantly, Chiya would not hesitate to call Kai out if she failed in the least bit to act like the ruler that Miina deserved. She needed that sort of honesty.

  “Should we see if we can get General Ipan in the bowl?” Nanase asked, nodding her head towards the silver basin of water that sat quietly in the middle of the long table. The enchanted bowl allowed the council to communicate with whoever possessed its twin, which happened to be General Ipan, head of King Ozora’s sunburner forces. He participated in many of their regular council meetings, keeping them apprised of the situation in Kita. He had provided valuable intelligence and sage advice thus far.

  Kai shook her head. “What I have to say is not for his ears.”

  Nanase shrugged, fixing her hawklike gaze on Kai. “What’s going on?”

  “There is no easy way to say this. We saw a man on our way home from the hunt today with spotted fever. The disease appeared to be advanced. We need to send a team of moonburners to keep him and his wife quarantined and to try to keep them from infecting any of the neighboring villagers.”

  Her council looked at her, stunned. “So close?” Master Vita asked. “I can’t believe it has spread so quickly.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Kai admitted. “I touched him. I might be infected.”

  For a moment, four sets of unblinking eyes stared at her, words temporarily stolen by the shock of Kai’s statement. Then they all started talking at once.

  Kai held up her hands to quiet them and they grudgingly obliged.

  “We don’t know that I’m infected. But to be safe, I’ll need to be quarantined. We can’t risk anyone touching me until we know whether or not I have it.”

  “We must find a cure,” Nanase said. “I will charge our best healers with this task.”

  “I agree,” Kai said. “Unfortunately, despite our other issues with the famine, we need to make this a top priority. If the disease reaches the c
ity, people will start to panic. Start with the man and woman I found today.”

  “We will have to keep your quarantine a secret,” Hanae said. “You normally do your weekly ride through the city. We can say you are praying and consulting with experts to discover a way to end the drought.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Hanae’s right. We can’t let this get out,” Chiya said. “The people’s confidence in your rule is already at an all-time low.”

  Kai winced.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Chiya said with grudging respect. “But it’s true. There have been demonstrations in Kyuden, people in the squares saying that the drought and the fever are punishment from the gods for your peace with the sunburners. There are rumors that those who would see us return to war are rallying.”

  “That’s insane,” Kai protested. “Have the people forgotten so quickly what the war was like? Sons drafted and sent to the front lines like fodder, crops requisitioned for the crown, villages indiscriminately attacked and burned?”

  “People can be shortsighted,” Hanae said. “Their lives are a struggle to get from one day to the next. It’s hard to look at the bigger picture when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from.”

  Kai massaged her temples. “You’re right, of course. I just wish we could make them see sense.”

  “You can’t fight this kind of superstition with reason,” Nanase said.

  Master Vita spoke softly. “Perhaps it is time for us to address the leviathan in the room. Is it superstition? Or are the gods targeting us? Are these natural disasters their doing?”

  Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

  Chiya spoke first. “The Oracle’s prophecy is hard to ignore. She said there would be a war between us. She was right about the eclipse before the Battle at the Gate. Why would she be wrong about this?”

  “Perhaps it is just figurative. We will be battling the forces of nature and such,” Hanae said.

  “What does Roweni say?” Master Vita asked, referring to the moonburner Oracle by her given name. He looked pointedly at Kai.

  “She says that she sees real…gods. A battle. She doesn’t think it’s figurative.” Kai spoke reluctantly. She knew the reason for that look. For the thousandth time since Kai had heard those prophetic words, she thought about telling the rest of her advisors what she had seen. General Geisa and Queen Airi had used a blood sacrifice to summon the goddess Tsuki, but not the benevolent goddess they all worshipped—a dark twisted form of Tsuki intent on suffering and destruction. Kai had no problem believing that the creature she had seen would try to destroy the burners—or to incite a war so the sun and moonburners destroyed each other. Master Vita had seen this dark Tsuki’s destructive appetites firsthand. But Kai wasn’t ready to tell the rest of them yet. Because telling them meant actually considering a return to war. And so she had sworn Master Vita to silence. They would continue to bear this burden alone.

  “Your Majesty…”

  Kai had stopped listening, intent on her own thoughts. She sorted through the discussion she had half heard. Master Vita had asked what they should do. Another pointed look. Perhaps…she could exploit her knowledge without having to share it. The situation was growing more dire by the day, and if she was infected…

  “I don’t want to face the possibility of the gods turning against us, but I don’t think we can ignore it anymore,” Kai said. “Master Vita, find every book in the library that tells you anything about Tsuki, Taiyo, the formation of the world, the origin of the burners, or anything even close to those topics. Bring me the most interesting to keep me busy until this quarantine business blows over. Look through the rest. Enlist the help of some novices if you must; I’m sure Nanase can spare them. Let’s educate ourselves as much as we can and consider all possibilities.”

  This seemed to please her council. They all settled back in their chairs, relaxing slightly.

  “That’s all for now,” Kai said. “Everyone has their orders. Unless anyone has an issue to raise?”

  “I do,” Chiya said, almost apologetically.

  “What?” Kai asked, her mouth turning dry. Chiya? Apologetic?

  “What is the succession plan if you…pass away…of spotted fever?”

  Hanae tsked, crossing her arms with a huff.

  Chiya’s words hit her like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t a tactful question, but it was a fair one. Kai hadn’t invited Chiya to join the council for her tact. A ruler needed brutal honesty sometimes.

  “I don’t know,” Kai admitted. “There is no heir to the Shigetsu line. I don’t know who would be next in line for the throne.”

  “I can look into the lineage to see if there is a cousin or aunt somewhere who could serve,” Master Vita said.

  “Please,” Kai said. “And what happens if we can’t find that person?”

  “I don’t think there is a protocol for that. If…the worst were to happen,” Hanae said, glaring at Chiya, “the best chance of avoiding a fight over the throne would be for you to announce your successor and make sure your choice has the backing of the citadel and as many others as we could muster.”

  “Bring me candidates then,” Kai said. “To the next meeting.”

  Her council nodded grimly in agreement.

  Nothing like planning your own funeral, Kai thought.

  Kai strode from the council chamber to the hospital ward, Quitsu flanking her like a silver shadow. They took the back way, trying to avoid any of her friends or subjects. As she exited an alley across from the hospital ward, her vision swam for a moment, and the earth seemed to tilt sideways. She placed a steadying hand against the stone of the building. The feeling passed.

  “Quitsu,” Kai said. “I don’t feel so good.”

  Her seishen was standing stock still, all four paws planted firmly on the ground, staring at the cobblestones below him. “I don’t either.”

  “You can get sick?” Kai asked.

  “I didn’t think so,” he admitted.

  “Hospital ward. Now.”

  Kai’s heart raced and her vision blurred as she continued across the cobblestoned courtyard. A wave of heat rushed through her body, a flush of fever that left her panting. She staggered against the door of the hospital ward, opening it and nearly falling inside. The blood was rushing to her ears, a raging ocean inside her head.

  The nurses hurried to her side but she shooed them away.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice sounding strange and hoarse. “Spotted fever. Quarantine.”

  Hiro sat in an oversized velvet armchair in front of the empty fireplace. It was too hot for a fire. Hiro’s room at the citadel faced the east, so while he was greeted by the sun’s golden rays each morning, the room heated up like a greenhouse, too hot by midday to continue to sleep. The thick curtains that hung to black out the sun helped a little, but he had never fully adjusted to the upside-down Miinan schedule, where day was night and night was day. He was perpetually groggy.

  Hiro turned a ring over and over, worrying it with his fingers. It was made of two bands of silver and gold, twined together and studded with tiny diamonds.

  “You keep playing with that ring and you’ll wear it down to nothing,” said his seishen, Ryu, in a deep baritone rumble. Ryu sprawled on the floor, his pink tongue lolling out of his golden lion muzzle.

  Hiro leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “Why did she have to go into that house? Why did I let her? She worries about everyone’s safety but her own,” he said. “And the timing! The timing could not be worse.”

  Hiro peeled himself off the chair, stalking to the window, unable to contain the nervous energy pinging about inside him. “I had just firmed up my arrangement with the biwa player… The florist was all prepped to decorate the barge tomorrow, and the chef… It would have been the best food either of us had ever tasted. It would have been perfect.”

  He looked at the ring in his hand, curling his fist around it. “She’s
been so worried lately, so busy…She deserved something special when I asked her to marry me.”

  Ryu sat up from his position on the floor, peering at Hiro with imperious golden eyes.

  “What?” Hiro said. “Do you think I’m being an ass because Kai is probably dying and I’m complaining about how my proposal got ruined?”

  Ryu just blinked.

  Hiro threw up his hands. “I know! I am being an ass. No need for you to rub it in. But Kai practically slammed the door to her council chamber in my face and there’s nothing for me to do but sit here and worry.”

  “So you’d rather act like an ass,” Ryu said.

  “It does occupy the mind,” Hiro said wryly. “And another thing. Now if I propose, she’ll think I did it because I’m afraid she’s going to die! What’s romantic about that?”

  “She’s not going to die,” Ryu said softly.

  Panic seized him, wrapping his chest in a vise grip. “What if she does?” Hiro thumped down into the chair, his face ashen. “I can’t lose her.”

  “You won’t,” Ryu said. “You don’t even know if she was infected.”

  Images of Kai flashed through Hiro’s mind. There were bright brilliant memories there. Dancing under the flickering sparkbugs at the Longest Night Festival. The rice pudding fight that had gotten them banned from the kitchens for a week. Standing shivering and wet under the waterfall below the citadel, his limbs freezing, but his core warmed by the heat of Kai’s kiss.

  There weren’t enough happy memories though, not nearly enough. Not as many as Kai deserved. There were too many memories of her face lined with weariness as some servant reported the next piece of bad news, dark smudges under her eyes from the worry and bad dreams that kept her awake. Kai poring through piles of books in the library, desperately searching for a way to fix the latest disaster. Pretending not to notice her quickly-brushed-aside tears after some cruel Miinan shouted obscenities at her while she passed by. The sorrow Kai had seen since he had known her far outstripped the happy times, yet still she bristled with optimism, wore it like armor. There had to be more happiness, more joy, more love in store for her. For them. Anything else wasn’t right. Surely, the gods wouldn’t be so cruel.