Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Had they been treating me themselves, they would’ve had to insert the needles blindfolded; but today, they held hand mirrors up to politely and indirectly see the points Doctor Wu had chosen. Not that it mattered; my lanky body might have just as easily belonged to a boy.

  Not for long, though, if what Doctor Wu had said was right. And she was never wrong. Thank the Heavens. Maybe the news of my blossoming would stifle the rumors and jokes behind my back. Of course, it also meant that my wedding to General Lu, or perhaps some rebellious Northern lord, might happen in less than a month. That future did not include Prince Hardeep or Dragon Songs. I let out a long sigh.

  “Breathe more deeply!” Doctor Wu said. “No sighing. It constrains your Qi, just like when you tried learning to play magic from a book. You were too excited, weren’t you?”

  Yes. Although the needles didn’t allow me to move or speak at the moment, the omniscient doctor didn’t need to hear the answer to know it.

  Doctor Wu harrumphed. “I have taught you about energy flow since you were a child. You should know better. And using that instrument.”

  Yanyan’s pipa, nearly ruined by my own hand. If the doctor knew about the Dragon Scale Lute, she might be even more horrified. The needle in my belly sent a jolt radiating out in a wave.

  “You can get up now.”

  Get up? I shuddered. Even the smallest motion caused my muscles to twist around the needles, sending surges along my body’s energy paths.

  From right above me, Doctor Wu’s voice bordered on exasperation. “Quickly now. I already took all the needles out.”

  I opened my eyes. Stretching out my arms and legs, I wiggled my fingers and toes. Though I could move again, my body still sang from the symphony of Doctor Wu’s treatment.

  The doctor hovered above me, twisting a dozen needles between her fingers. “Now, get dressed. I will be back.” She pointed toward a folded robe and left the room.

  Groaning up to my knees, I retrieved the gown and held it up. The coarse brown cloth looked nothing like my usual embroidered silks, let alone the extravagant robe I’d worn to meet General Lu. Prince Hardeep had seen me in that, along with the thick layer of foundation, drawn-on eyebrows, and extended lashes. If he saw me now…

  Blotches of pimples or not, my face certainly felt better without the cosmetic mask. If only I could be naturally beautiful like Xiulan. Catching my sigh, lest Doctor Wu hear it in the other room, I slipped the plain robe on. It could only mean one thing: one of the doctor’s tortuous lessons.

  No sooner had I tied the sash than Doctor Wu slid open the door and marched back in. Her eyes darted from up to down in a cursory evaluation before she nodded. “Good. You may not be particularly pretty, but you have a strong spirit.”

  My chest tightened. The doctor’s words probably hadn’t been meant to hurt, but still… At least Tian had always adored me, no matter how plain I was. And Prince Hardeep…

  “Straighten your spine,” Doctor Wu said. “Good. Now listen: when you played that song with that instrument, you opened connections inside your body like the great musicians from the past. Just like Mai… However, you were too excited and lost control of it.”

  My mouth gaped of its own accord. Doctor Wu hadn’t even heard me play, yet somehow knew.

  “Close your mouth. I might not know Dragon Songs, but for your health, you have two paths: either master it, or give it up altogether.”

  The doctor could have just said to give it up and get married. Maybe the fact she mentioned mastering it first offered a hint as to what she thought was best. And to think it was even a possibility! I shuffled on my feet.

  The doctor pointed to one of the east-facing windows. “No decision should be considered without meditation. Stand there, face Jade Mountain.”

  What did I want? What was best for Cathay? I took short strides to the designated spot. Snow-capped Jade Mountain, dark green in the mist, rose over Sun-Moon Lake.

  “Now, focus on your breathing, anchor yourself with the energies of Mother Earth.”

  I suppressed a shudder. It was one of the first exercises Doctor Wu had taught me eight years before, at the Emperor’s bidding, to treat childhood anxiety. The calm had helped me get over Tian’s banishment. It also left my legs shaking in pain. I sank into a deep horse stance, thighs parallel to the ground, spine straight, and attention locked on the mountain. The pose was thoroughly unladylike. Nonetheless, it had helped develop the strength and balance I needed for the most graceful dances.

  Doctor Wu regarded me with a furrowed brow. With a nudge of a hand, she lifted my chin to further straighten my back. “Now breathe, tongue on the roof of your mouth, in through the nose, letting your belly expand; out through your mouth, pushing your belly in.”

  Gripping the floor with my bare toes, I did as I was told. Cool air settled into my lungs, and the tingling from the acupuncture spread and dispersed.

  Doctor Wu afforded me a cursory glance. “Good. Your inherent Fire energies rage, fueling your creativity, but you must contain them with nourishing Water. Visualize your weight sinking deeper and deeper into Mother Earth as you exhale. Draw her life-giving energy through your Yongquan points in your feet as you inhale and bring them to your Dantian below your navel.”

  I obeyed, imagining the energy of the world as tangible. A deep breath in, a slow breath out. Thoughts of Prince Hardeep settled, replaced by a calm drawn from the resolute vibration of the earth. The cool sensation seemed almost like the tranquility I felt when lost in music.

  Which, in turn, felt nothing like playing Yanyan’s pipa or the Dragon Scale Lute.

  The doctor clucked. “You practice too much of that Praise Moon Fist fighting. Its nature is Wood. It easily transforms into Fire and rises to your head. If you do not nurture your Water energies, your inherent Fire will burn out your Sea of Marrow. No wonder you lost control of the song’s power.”

  My knees burned from the strain, yet I almost forgot about them as I mulled over doctor’s perplexing words. The power of Dragon Songs didn’t seem at all related to medicine.

  Then again, Prince Hardeep, a non-Cathayi who shouldn’t be able to channel magic through artistic endeavor, had told me to straighten my body and put my feet on the ground. If it came from just his love of music, then maybe my music teachers had left something out of their instruction. With no sign of the prince, I might never find out. He was probably on the first ship bound for his besieged Ankira, Dragon Scale Lute in hand.

  “Focus.” Doctor Wu pressed my back, straightening my spine. “Remember to root yourself next time you decide to play with things you don’t understand.”

  I might have cowered had I not been concentrating on the stance.

  The doctor harrumphed. “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t play these songs of power at all. That music last night…a frightening energy coursed through it, one that did not belong to Mother Earth. Lose control of such power in such a place, and it might have dire consequences. For you. For the world.”

  For the world? One song having dire consequences for the entire world…the very idea of it was overwhelming.

  Doctor Wu came around and shot me an imperious look. “If you ask me, you should find a real instructor.”

  “There are none,” I said. My voice came out as a squeak, probably from not having spoken for the last few hours. I straightened out of my stance. “At least not for music.”

  Doctor Wu shrugged. “I don’t know much about magic, but at its core, artistic endeavor is all the same: the expression of intention.”

  “I don’t know…” Not that I had any reason to learn anymore. The whole idea of using a Dragon Song to change the minds of the lords and Father, which felt so right last night, was clearly treason. And Hardeep’s other hope, expelling an invading army with fear, apparently involved powers that might be too terrible to invoke.

  “You have always had the potential. I have long felt it in your pulse. You must make a choice.”

  Such revelations; why no
w? And if it was always there, maybe this was a chance to rediscover my people’s lost art.

  “You are prettier when you smile,” Doctor Wu said.

  I covered my mouth. “If I wanted to learn, what would you recommend?”

  Doctor Wu tilted her head like a cobra. “Observe others who can evoke magic through their art.”

  “I can’t go out into the palace grounds for two days.” I sighed.

  “There is always the Crown Princess.”

  Right. Xiulan could manifest magic through her calligraphy, and appeared even more radiant when doing it. After rescuing her from the uncomfortable discussion of unconceived heirs, she owed me a favor.

  “Start there. Small steps,” Doctor Wu said.

  I caught myself before I sighed and earned another rebuke. “If only Lord Xu would teach me more.”

  “More?” Doctor Wu’s lips twitched. “I would be wary of that rascal. Wherever he is in the world right now, I would wager that Lord Xu heard the song last night. It would not surprise me if he makes an appearance soon.”

  I knelt on a silk cushion on the veranda in the Gardenia Courtyard, listening to the smooth swoosh of Xiulan’s brush across rice paper.

  My sister-in-law sat at the bloodwood table with her back straight, soles flat on the ground. She held her hanging sleeve with her left hand as the brush danced across the page. The posture looked similar to the way Hardeep had suggested I sit when playing the pipa.

  The slow, graceful motions and steadfast whirr of the brush were lulling, hypnotic. I almost forgot how my legs still ached from the low stance hours before.

  Several handmaidens stood at the edge of the veranda, all craning their necks to see the Crown Princess write. Four imperial guards flanked the doors, including my own Chen Xin and Xu Zhan, so still they might have been statues themselves.

  Xiulan set the brush down and held up her paper. The handmaidens clapped.

  Kai. Victorious, just like the first character in my name, shared by my brothers, as well as cousins Kai-Long and Kai-Hua.

  My chest swelled with pride, and a smile tugged at my lips. For all my mistakes, I’d already accomplished more with music than any human had in two hundred years. “I feel it,” I said. “How did you do it?”

  “My master emphasizes getting in the right mood by sitting straight and grinding the inkstone. I held a sense of pride and satisfaction in my heart and wrote.”

  Once you have seized the song’s emotion and made it your own, the music book from the Hall of Pure Melody had said, you must project it. Rooted to the ground, your spine aligned, let your heart impel your voice. I glanced back at the beaming handmaidens and stoic guards. None seemed as affected as me. “Why did it affect only me?”

  Xiulan bowed her head. “I remembered the gratitude I felt when you saved me from embarrassment yesterday.”

  I nodded. While not exactly a lesson from a master, at least it was a small step in understanding. If only Prince Hardeep were there. When I was near him, it felt like I could do anything.

  Appearing at the door, Secretary Hong creaked into a low bow. “Young Lord Peng Kai-Long has come to meet with Princess Kaiya.”

  Cousin Kai-Long stepped past the secretary and sank to his knee, fist to the ground. A large embroidered silk bag slipped from his shoulder. Could it be? He looked up to the Crown Princess. “If you would excuse me, Your Highness, I would like to walk with Princess Kaiya.”

  “As you wish, Young Lord Peng.” Xiulan gestured toward the garden.

  “Thank you, Eldest Sister.” Peering at his silk bag, I rose and nodded toward Kai-Long to take the lead.

  White pebbles crunched beneath our feet as we wound along a path lined with glossy green gardenias. I lowered my voice. “Thank you for your help last night.”

  Kai-Long nodded. “I took full responsibility, even offered to cut my own throat. The Emperor will withhold judgment for two days, and until then, I am confined to either the palace or my family villa.”

  “I am sorry.” I bowed my head.

  “It’s all right. My role has been kept secret so as not to influence the opinions of the hereditary lords. I will prove my loyalty and worth to the Emperor by leading the vanguard in an assault of Wailian Castle if we need to put down Lord Tong.”

  I gasped. The impregnable fortress, if what General Lu said was true. And Kai-Long was confirming that the insurgency had indeed intensified.

  He took my hand and patted it. Casting a glance back at the two imperial guards following several steps behind, he leaned in and whispered, “I managed to get Prince Hardeep to safety.”

  Hardeep! Alive and safe. My pulse skipped a beat and I almost stopped in my tracks. I turned away from Cousin Kai-Long and looked forward. “Where is he now?”

  “Hiding at my pavilion. He apologizes for disappearing so quickly, but his life is in danger.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “The Emperor must already know the entire story; not just about the morning, but the night, too. He would have Hardeep killed, wouldn’t he?”

  This time, it was Kai-Long’s turn to stop and face me. “No—or at least, I do not think so. I have already spoken on Prince Hardeep’s behalf.”

  “Then why is his life in danger?”

  Cousin Kai-Long resumed his walk. “The Madurans received word that he is meddling with their trade agreement. My father’s province shares a border with Ankira, and we have witnessed the refugees from Madura’s brutal occupation. Madura is a warlike nation, and when they act, they rarely do so in moderation.”

  My chest constricted. No doubt they were behind the massacre last night. And to think Cathay sold these violent people firepowder. “Wouldn’t Hardeep be safer in the palace?”

  “I am working with palace officials to allow it. In the meantime, he asked me to give you this.” He unslung the bag and presented it to me in two hands.

  The Dragon Scale Lute? I stared at it for a few seconds before receiving it. I loosened the drawstrings and peeked inside. A lute. Though not the one made from dragon scale. I cinched the drawstrings and bowed. “Thank you.”

  He flashed a conspiratorial grin. “I would be happy to pass messages for you.”

  A smile came unbidden to my lips. “Thank you, Cousin. Please tell him that I want to help him.”

  “Be wary,” Kai-Long said. “If the Madurans think you are meddling in their affairs, they won’t hesitate to snuff out your young life.”

  Prince Hardeep had said as much. And they had already snuffed out so many. My breath hitched. How awful, to be murdered for doing the right thing. And to think the Madurans acted with impunity on Cathay’s soil. I straightened my carriage, not wanting to show fear. “The prince and I were ambushed last night, twice.”

  Kai-Long stopped, spun, and faced me. His eyes could not open any wider. “Did you tell the Emperor?”

  She shook my head. “Everyone believes I was lured out of the palace by the music.”

  Kai-Long blew out a long exhalation. “At least you won’t get Hardeep in trouble for that. Still, the Emperor must know, so he can increase your guard.”

  “Don’t worry. He assigned a Moquan to watch me.” I rolled my eyes.

  “A what?” Kai-Long’s gawk, combined with his wide eyes, made him look like a caricature I’d once seen.

  “Silly, right?” As though an imaginary boogeyman could do anything against Madura’s very real hired knives.

  Kai-Long offered a nervous laugh. “If I didn’t know how much the Emperor treasured you, I would say he is being lax with your protection.”

  “I always have at least two imperial guards whenever I am out of the residence.”

  Kai-Long glanced back at the two men, and then leaned in again. “Have you heard of the Golden Scorpions?”

  Of course I’d heard of the evil warriors with expressionless masks, though mostly as scary bedtime stories. Cast-offs and deserters from the Order of Ayuri Paladins, the Golden Scorpions used their martial magic in the service of Madura
’s aggression—including assassinations. Fear crawled up my spine like a spider. I tried to keep my voice confident. “The Emperor forbids them from entering Cathay. It’s grounds for terminating the trade agreement.”

  “They don’t always wear masks. Just be careful.”

  Fifteen

  Father Figures

  I sat atop the castle parapet, dangling my stick legs over the edge despite the silent protests of my imperial guards. Long shadows cast by the setting sun yawned out over Sun-Moon Lake, whose gentle waves lapped up against the base of the stone walls. The lake stretched to the horizon, its placid surface broken only by a few small islands.

  A day remained until Kai-Wu’s wedding, two until my judgment for wandering the palace with Hardeep. I turned Tian’s pebble over in my fingers, its smooth coolness comforting. I knew every imperfection by touch; cherished it as a talisman of a more carefree time. Eight years had passed since I last saw my childhood playmate, the one with whom I could always share my deepest secrets.

  If only I could share the secret of Hardeep! And my dreams of reviving lost magic. Tian would understand. But no. Although he might be the son of a first rank Tai-Ming lord, Father had banished him long ago for a stupid prank. Who knew where he was now?

  “Your Highness,” my handmaiden Han Meiling said from behind me. “Here is the lute you requested.”

  I closed my hand around the pebble and turned.

  Meiling knelt, with Hardeep’s lute nestled in her arms.

  Stowing the pebble into my sash, I received the instrument with both hands. I flipped it around and straightened my back. My toes gripped the stone ground. Taking a deep breath, I strummed. The vibration of the strings flitted through my arms. Each note came together in technical perfection, yet my uncertainties and doubts wavered through the melody.

  Xiulan had thought of me when writing calligraphy, which apparently guided the magic in the character to me; I looked to Han Meiling.