Thorn of the Night Blossoms

by J C Kang

  Jie’s gaze settled on a bar where several gowns hung. All consisted of inner and outer gowns that embellished cleavage and exposed long legs—assets that the Heavens had yet to bless her with, and none suited a Floret trying to project innocence. Little Wen, however, might still have the perfect dress for the occasion.

  Jie went to the door and slid it open enough to poke her head through. As in the Chrysanthemum Pavilion, the mezzanine overlooking the common room ran around the perimeter of the second floor, with doors to the Blossom’s rooms. Music from the four-stringed pipa and eighteen-stringed guzheng percolated up from below.

  This room lay up and to the right of the stage, and a tall man standing by the balcony blocked her from view. Wearing fine blue silk robes, he smelled of oiled steel. He held his thumbs and forefingers to form a rectangle, as if framing a picture. Maybe he was an artist? She followed his line of sight to the corner of the stage, where a Peony Garden Floret was serving drinks to a pair of wealthy-looking merchants while they ogled her.

  If this man was an artist, he must’ve been influenced by the trends among the fair-skinned, since this particular scene was so…mundane. Desperate Men, she’d name it. If the opportunity presented itself, she’d be sure to get a look at his face.

  She started to recede back to the wall, but paused. Lilian approached the two merchants in the corner and bowed with the grace of a phoenix. Jie remained transfixed. No matter how many times she’d watched Lilian at the Chrysanthemum Pavilion, her elegance never ceased to evoke both envy and arousal. With a hard swallow, she backed away.

  Some Blossoms loitered with Hummingbirds along the mezzanine railing, giggling and pointing. With their backs to the doors, Jie stayed close to the wall and slunk behind them, turned a corner, and ducked into Little Wen’s room.

  The partially shuttered light-bauble lamp shed a dim light over a room furnished much like the other. Jie went to the bed and stashed Lilian’s stealth suit and shoes underneath, then took one of the light baubles before going to the dressing niche. Deep within one of the drawers, she found the dress that had contributed to Wen’s considerable virgin price, from a time when her build was similar to Jie’s now.

  Green silk with embroidered yellow and white flowers, the one-piece’s neckline emphasized the nape, top of the shoulder blades, and collarbones. Hanging sleeves would slide into the crook of a bent elbow, embellishing willowy arms, and the single slit could expose just enough leg to tantalize. Jie slipped into it, then borrowed some of Wen’s rouge to give her cheeks a pink tint. With a quick look in the mirror, Jie pinned her hair in a way that concealed her ears. She stashed the light bauble in her undergarments.

  Now, it became a matter of sneaking down to the common room without being seen, in a dress that was meant to be seen; then finding an opportunity to investigate the Florist’s and Gardener’s offices for evidence of a plot against her or the clan.

  Again using the Blossoms and guests along the railing as cover, Jie worked her way over to one of the stairwells and hurried down. It opened into a dimly lit hall between the common room and veranda, which also led to an office. Waiting for a drunk man on the arm of a Blossom to stumble past, she turned out of the stairwell. Not having time to find the joists in the nightingale floor, she stepped in time with the amorous couple in the opposite direction, and reached the office door.

  A dwarf-made lock was set in the door, openable with the right key. The devices had flooded the market in the last ten years with increased trade with the East, but proved only a little harder to pick than the local padlocks. Not only that, a passerby wouldn’t even notice it had been breached. It yielded to her lockpicks, and she slipped into the dark room.

  Her elf vision took over, casting the office in hues of green and grey. With shelves of ledgers and an abacus, this had to be the Florist’s office. While it was tempting to find out Lusha’s actual virgin price, recent transactions would provide more insight into possible assassin hires. She pulled out the one with the most recent label. A folded sheet of paper slipped from between its pages, and Jie snatched it out of the air without a sound. Opening her mouth, she secured the light bauble between her teeth. She looked at the ledger’s binding and found the subtle gap between pages where the sheet had slipped from.

  She opened to that spot and found a record of the most current expenditures. Contracting a murder could cost upwards of a thousand gold yuan, so she looked first to the largest receivables. Three stood out, all listed as going toward Young Lord Peng’s First Pollinating. Curiously, not all came from Lord Peng, though it was plausible the three companies who had paid the balance had received some favor in return. A quick skim over the past hundred days of transactions showed no totals that would add up to hiring an assassin.

  Still, there was a familiar scent. She sniffed. The sesame-ginger marinade! She snuffled more, no doubt looking more like a pig searching for truffles than a Floret trying to attract bids. The minute traces came from…the folded sheet of paper.

  She unfolded it and scanned. The script looked graceful and feminine.

  The common room must be set up exactly like—

  Laughing and chirping footsteps grew louder in the hall, coming to a stop at the door. The handle jiggled.

  “It’s unlocked,” said a male voice.

  Chapter 7

  Standing by the desk in the Florist’s office, Jie snatched up the ledger and returned it to its shelf, letter and all. She stashed the light bauble in her mouth and ducked under the table just as the door opened.

  Two sets of legs staggered in, visible from under the writing table: one male in dark silk robes, the other the willowy limbs of a Night Blossom. They closed the door to a crack, allowing a blade of light in.

  The couple approached, the male’s feet pointed forward, the female’s shuffling back as she giggled.

  “I’ve always wanted to do it on a table,” he said.

  “We can’t, my Lord.” The voice was familiar: Meina, from the Peony Garden, a pretty but not-so-smart girl. “Not in the Florist’s office. Come back to my room.”

  Yes, go back to your room. Jie gritted her teeth. The desk screeched on the floor as he pressed the girl into it, providing an up-close look at the middle of their thighs. As sturdy as it looked, the table probably wasn’t built to support one person, let alone two in the throes of passion.

  The woman squealed as her feet left the floor. She landed on the desk, which creaked in protest. His robe parted and his pants and undergarments dropped to his ankles. He grunted, and she gasped.

  As part of her training, Jie had witnessed coupling more times than a child’s abacus could calculate, from straightforward positions to those a yogi from the lands of the bronze-skinned would envy. It was neither titillating nor disgusting, just a means to an end. Right now, though, it might mean her end—either from a table collapsing on her, or their noise drawing someone in.

  Angling herself to fit in the space between the table’s legs and his, Jie slipped through. With the man preoccupied, she stayed low out of the Blossom’s line of sight and darted through the space in the door. She gained her feet, smoothed the dress out, and hurried toward the common room.

  She paused at the archway and looked.

  Up on the balcony across from her, the artist was gone. In his place stood another man, peering at something on Jie’s side of the room. She followed his gaze.

  He was looking at the same corner by the stage, but this time several men wearing the livery of Lord Ting stood there. They gazed at Peony Garden Blossoms who were dancing sensually on stage to a quartet of stringed instruments. Her eyes shifted to the source of the music, a space in front of the stage. The famous Master Ding Meihui’s fingers swam over her pipa strings, so mesmerizing that it was hard to tell if she created the music, or the music moved her fingers. Rumor had it she was close to rediscovering the lost magic of Dragon Songs, which had helped free mankind from the Tivari ages ago. Lord Peng must’ve paid a handsome sum; she usually p
erformed for the Emperor himself, and supposedly even taught eight-year-old Princess Kaiya.

  Jie’s gaze shifted to the left of the musicians, where Dan Lusha sat in Young Lord Peng Kai-Zhi’s lap, giggling like a girl ten years younger. Indeed, her heavy make-up almost accomplished that effect, even if the low cut of her white inner gown exposed far more than it hid, and the translucent outer gown left nothing it covered to the imagination. Peng Kai-Zhi was flushed red, whether from alcohol or embarrassment, it was hard to tell; but at just sixteen, he otherwise looked every part the heir to his province in his formal robes. Clan members embedded in the palace reported that his younger brother, Kai-Long, was adored by the Emperor—their maternal uncle—and that he helped keep an eye on Princess Kaiya.

  Bowing lords and ministers all approached and toasted him, while prominent Blossoms of all the major houses introduced themselves with dainty bows. Lilian, dressed in a gown nearly as revealing as Lusha’s, scanned the room as she mingled with the other Blossoms, her Black Fist-trained eyes taking in every detail without actually appearing to.

  Jie sucked on her lower lip. This would be her future life—perhaps for decades, given the youthful effect of elf blood—if she didn’t prove herself or get murdered over her virginity first. For now, though, she had to confirm she was the Peony Garden’s only target.

  The original plan had been to mingle with the guests, and perhaps eavesdrop on the Florist, until an opportunity presented itself to break away and investigate the offices. Now, with one office down, maybe there was a safer option: all she had to do was make it through the festivities and to the opposite hall without being noticed.

  Checking to ensure her hair still covered the tips of her ears, she used a walking man as cover to cross a quarter of the room. She froze in a dead space, surrounded by backs. That sesame-ginger smell was emanating from somewhere in the room. Unfortunately, the same milling bodies that kept her hidden also prevented her from getting a good visual scan.

  She swept up a porcelain tray with rice wine cups from a table and continued as if she were one of the house Florets, until she ducked behind yet another man in dark blue silk. The smell of oiled steel. The artist from the balcony.

  Jie shot a glance up to the mezzanine corner. The man who’d been there moments before was gone, replaced by another man in crimson livery. What was it about that spot? That was a question for later, because here was a chance to see Artist’s face. She angled the tray so that his face reflected in a cup of rice wine.

  Given the position of the lights, a scar across his forehead was all that distinguished him. He started to turn.

  Jie ducked away, continuing toward the opposite archway. It was too easy. The scent grew stronger. Just another few—

  “You!” A middle-aged patron of the Chrysanthemum House waved at her from a table ahead to the left. Deputy Xun from the Ministry of War. “You’re the half-elf Floret from the Chrysanthemum Pavilion! Jie, was it?”

  Shit. Jie pretended she hadn’t heard while continuing on her way. He reached for her as she passed, but she deftly avoided his hand by turning and setting the tray down on a nearby table. The sesame-ginger smell diffused.

  And now, more eyes fell on her. Excited whispers broke out.

  “It’s Ju Jie!”

  “I bid thirty thousand yuan on her virginity.”

  “She’s almost too awkward for a Blossom, but that face!”

  A large body stepped in front of her; easy enough to avoid, but doing so would raise questions.

  Jie stopped and looked up.

  Minister Li from the Imperial Treasury met her eye. Using his huge frame, he angled himself, boxing her against a wall. “So, you are the Chrysanthemum Pavilion’s famous half-elf.”

  Men like this prowled the Floating World, using their size to project dominance over Blossoms and Florets alike. Every female, from Sprout to Gardener, had endured it. Despite their training to maintain calm while feigning demureness, most feared the experience.

  Most, but not embedded Black Lotus Fists. Certainly not Jie. There were a dozen different ways to slip out of this trap, and even more to mete out pain or permanent injury. Still, clan training in keeping a clear head under duress melded perfectly with Floating World skills in manipulating fragile male psyches. Jie cast her gaze down and trembled. “Yes, Master.”

  In an audacious move, he lifted her chin with a finger. His leer roved over her, making her feel dirtier than after the trip up the chimney. “What is your virgin price up to? I would like to make a bid.”

  “I’m sorry, only my Gardener and Florist know. You will have to speak with them.”

  “I’d like to speak to you.” His breath burned hot on her neck as he leaned in.

  Her shudder this time might not have been entirely acting. Her arms and legs froze, and she couldn’t form a coherent thought.

  A hand clamped around hers.

  Fighting reflexes took over, jolting Jie out of her fear. She turned her hand over and started twisting into a wrist lock.

  Her captor’s hand reacted smoothly, avoiding the technique with practiced skill. “Minister Li, thank you for finding my Little Sister.”

  Jie looked at the hand on hers. The dorsal side was delicate and smooth, belying the callouses on the palm and fingers. She followed a silk-clad arm up and met Lilian’s stern gaze.

  “Come along now, Little Jie.” Lilian’s voice sounded gentle, even as the swipes and taps of her finger on the back of Jie’s hand said otherwise. Sometimes it was a good thing their clan’s non-verbal communication didn’t include expletives. What are you doing here?

  “Thank you for your interest, Master.” Jie bowed, while tapping back, Scouting.

  Minister Li stared at the both of them, eyes wide and mouth moving, but no words coming out.

  “Come, Little Jie.” Lilian gave her a tug toward the entrance. Too big a risk. We need to get you out before Lusha sees you.

  “Look what—I mean, who we have here!” Lusha’s soft, melodious voice managed to boom over the throng. “I didn’t see Little Ju Jie from the Chrysanthemum Pavilion. Lilian said you had later declined the invitation. Come, pay respects to Young Lord Peng.”

  Conversation quieted to a low murmur. Heads looked from the couple of honor to Jie, and the crowds parted to form an aisle between them.

  Lusha beckoned with a graceful wave of her hand.

  Jie sucked on her lower lip. Had everything gone perfectly, she would’ve been in and out without ever having to engage in a poetry duel.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Lusha.” Lilian bowed low. “My Little Sister is dizzy from all the guests. I was going to take her out for some fresh air.”

  The House Gardener, wearing a blue gown with a white inner dress, stepped into view. She beckoned to someone near the entrance. “Oh, it is much too cold outside. We don’t want you freezing.”

  Never mind that it wasn’t cold. House guards took up position at the entrance and the doors to the veranda. It wouldn’t be hard to make it by them, but again, it would raise questions about how a Floret had such talents.

  “I will assign one of our men to escort you to the conservatory. Plenty of fresh air, with all the open windows. Over here, Shixian.”

  Making it no warmer than outside, so temperature clearly wasn’t the Gardener’s concern. Her feral grin suggested ill intentions. She now hooked her hands into the crook of a handsome young man’s elbow and pulled him into the aisle through the crowds.

  Shixian was his name, apparently, and he was staring straight at her.

  Then again, so was everyone else.

  Shixian approached, the scent of rust growing stronger. His swishing robes didn’t match the livery of the other house guards.

  And he moved like a trained killer.

  Like Masked Crossbowman.

  Chapter 8

  Jie took an involuntary step back as the Peony Garden guard, Shixian, approached. She tapped a message onto Lilian’s arm as she pulled her back. He’s the one fro
m this morning.

  Lilian looked down at her, brow creased. Are you sure? she mouthed.

  Was she? Jie studied the tall man. It was hard to tell, since he wasn’t advancing and retreating with a repeating crossbow in hand. He walked with purpose, though he didn’t seem to have any weapons. Still, all it would take was deft sleight of hand to slip any number of poisons into Jie’s drink. And of course, there were contact toxins.

  Jie took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first, and certainly not the last time someone tried to kill her. She still had Lilian, and…her eyes found Little Wen, the only other Black Lotus member among all the people present.

  Lines of worry were etched into her pretty features. She signed, Not a house guard. Get out.

  Brushing her hair behind her ears, Jie signaled with a combination of finger motions and eye expressions. I will handle. Maintain line of sight.

  Shixian came closer. He had a strong jaw, and large eyes embellished by a high nose bridge and sculpted brow. Unlike most of the lechers in attendance, he was fresh, handsome. He beamed like a ray of sun stabbing through storm clouds.

  Her pulse quickened against her better judgement.

  He reached her and bowed. “Miss Jie.”

  “Mister Shixian.” She returned his salute, deftly dodging his attempt to brush up against her.

  His forehead scrunched up for a split second before he extended a hand toward the conservatory. As in the Chrysanthemum House, it lay through the archway to the other office. They passed through, crossed the hallway, and went under another arch. A cool—but not cold—breeze greeted her as they stepped into a long room lined with open windows. Empty save for a few rosewood chairs, it mirrored the veranda on the other side. Behind them, guards barred the way to any others. Lilian craned to keep an eye on them.

  Well, if they wanted to kill Jie with no witnesses, they’d made a mistake: nobody would see what she could really do, either. Every muscle coiled, ready to react.