by Jeannie Lin
He returned to the fortress, to the temporary shelter of the stone walls. His first battalion was stationed there in the capital to await the approaching armies. The Rising Guard was rumoured to be undefeatable, the captains recruited from among the fiercest warriors of the old Dragon Guard. All legends and rumours. General Sun Tzu spoke the truth when he wrote that the greatest battle was won far from the battlefield. Lao Sou and Gao Shiming had outmanoeuvred him at every turn. And now Emperor Shen wanted his loyalty, in blood.
An intrusive memory filled his head. Suyin stretched over him, her feather weight anchoring him to the mattress while she whispered in his ear, ‘Let the legends fight their own war.’
What she had asked for was impossible. But her arms had circled him, her breasts supple against his chest. When he ran his hand down, he could feel the downward slope of her back and the curve of her hip all in one motion, and he closed his eyes to lose himself in the dream.
Suyin had wanted them to leave and disappear into the depths of the empire. But people like Ling Guifei and Governor Li Tao could not disappear. When he was tasked with the execution of the Empress’s murderers, the conspirators had gone into hiding and he had found them all. Except for Gao. Except for Suyin.
His life was not his own. Perhaps it never had been, from the moment he had first plunged his knife into another man for silver.
The hilt of the sleeve sword pressed against his wrist. There was still one skill he excelled at. The Old Man was right. This was a clean end to things. One knife. Two deaths. Gao and then himself, soon after.
It wouldn’t be the end of the conflict. Gao had his heirs to succeed him. The warlord’s forces would regroup and reassess. Perhaps they would come after his domain for revenge, but Li Tao had no successors for them to hunt down.
The thought gave him his only moment of regret. He had no heirs. No legacy.
Enough. He was already making a mistake by thinking too much about his target. He had brought this moment upon himself; he had no choice but to face it.
Li Tao allowed himself to think of Ling Suyin one final time as the sun rose. He would not see her again, but Lao Sou would be true to his word and release her. Li Tao needed to bind that belief to his soul and hold it deep where it was hidden. Then he would banish all thought of her. Emotion would make his heart pound and his hand shake. If he hesitated for even one moment, he’d falter. All his sacrifice would be for nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘You should get a walking stick, old man.’
Lao Sou grunted at her suggestion. He held onto her arm as they navigated the woods and gestured with his free hand. ‘Go that way.’
Of all things, he wanted her to take a stroll with him outside the temple. As if she was a nursemaid instead of a prisoner. She had been counting the hours since Li Tao left. He would be heading toward the Jin River, toward his death if she couldn’t get free.
‘How much can you see?’ she asked.
‘Everything is murky. Shapes and shadows and only in the sunlight. Here, come here.’
He beckoned her close and then took hold of her face. She fought the urge to pull away from the leathery feel of his hands against her delicate skin, but there was something vulnerable in the way he peered at her so intently.
‘I used to see everything. Faces were like books. I could read the tiny movements around their eyes and mouth and their faces would speak to me before they had said a word. Now I see nothing.’ He let go of her. ‘Everyone grows old.’
‘So you can no longer read the intentions of those closest to you.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing at all.’
Lao Sou made a sound of annoyance. ‘Your veiled hints of conspiracy bore me so. This old dog knows what you are trying to insinuate. Do you know why I brought you out here?’
She looked back on the two guards following behind them at a distance. Lao Sou grabbed her attention with a yank on her wrist.
‘Li Tao cannot protect you. Come and work for me.’
‘Old Man, in case you do not know, we are enemies.’
He waved away her declaration as if swatting away a gnat. ‘I need your eyes, your ears.’
‘When you surround yourself with liars and thieves, you have to watch your back all the time.’
‘We’re not thieves.’ He sighed, exasperated. ‘You have a talent for reading people and discovering their intentions. How else could you turn someone like the righteous Ru Shan?’
‘How do you know of that?’
‘Of course I know. I know everything about your beloved Li Tao.’
‘Don’t mock me, Old Man.’
It was a painful reminder that this was all a game. He took pride in manipulating the world around him, in controlling the lives of men.
‘You’re not saying anything, Ling Guifei. Not like you at all. Tell me, what expression are you wearing right now?’
‘Disdain.’
‘Indeed. Well, answer me.’
Insufferable man. She glared at him. ‘Why would I serve you? You sent Li Tao to die.’
‘He put himself in this situation,’ he muttered. ‘Besides, it is the only way. Gao Shiming must be destroyed. Honourable men like Emperor Shen need men like us to do the unspeakable.’
She wanted to shout that he wasn’t doing anything but sitting back and pulling strings.
‘I swear I will put a knife in your heart the first chance I get,’ she vowed.
‘No, you won’t.’
It was strange how they spoke of revenge and death so civilly, their voices lowered in the midst of the morning stroll.
‘You are not cold enough,’ the Old Man scoffed. ‘I could always see people’s strengths and their weaknesses. I knew where to place them to make things happen.’
‘You were wrong about Li Tao.’
‘I was not wrong! An Ying has its share of killers. They have their uses. But the most critical tasks require sharp instincts and a strong will. Both make a person unpredictable.’
Life and death meant nothing to this man. His heart was deadened to it. The thought both chilled and saddened her. Would this have been Li Tao after a lifetime of ruthlessness? Was he already like this?
‘Think of it, you stubborn old fool. How long is your beloved empire going to last if you keep killing its leaders?’
His hand tightened around her arm. ‘You have a wicked tongue, but somehow, I like you, Ling Guifei. Do you know I saved your life? I learned about Gao and his amateur assassins. All it took was one message to Li Tao.’
‘Why save me?’
He shrugged. ‘You played the qin so beautifully. It seemed like a waste.’
‘Crazy old man,’ she muttered.
‘Ungrateful she-demon.’
Lao Sou wasn’t doing this out of hatred, but she couldn’t work out what it was that tied him to Li Tao so obsessively. For whatever reason, the old man enjoyed it when Li Tao did his bidding, whether it was reacting to a mysterious warning or assassinating a warlord.
She knew he wasn’t insane, despite her insults. He was shrewd and manipulative. But however formidable the clan leader had been in the past, she was beginning to see his weakness. He’d grown self-centred, vain and indulgent—on the outside.
Lao Sou was lonely. She understood that sentiment more than she would care to admit. He had built his organisation, kept too many secrets all his life, and now there was no one to share his glory. In time, she could gain his trust, but she didn’t have time. She needed to find Li Tao and prevent him from sacrificing himself.
‘If you discovered Gao’s plot, then you must know why he wanted me dead,’ she ventured.
‘Why else do men act rashly? Jealousy, greed…’
He was rambling now. He didn’t know about Gao’s plans. She’d have to persuade him another way.
‘Which of those explains why you sent Li Tao to his death?’
‘Simple.’ The old man snorted. ‘I needed that ba
stard Gao removed and Li Tao is my finest weapon.’
‘You’re a sentimental fool.’
She witnessed his anger rising, the instant regaining of control, and, a second before that, a glimmer of contemplation. Lao Sou didn’t care at all about Gao Shiming. This was a personal grudge over Li Tao’s defiance. She pounced.
‘You made a mistake, Old Man. You acted out of emotion.’
‘She-demon,’ he grumbled. He had run out of responses.
‘Li Tao is more useful to you alive.’
‘Not if he doesn’t follow orders.’ Suddenly, a slow grin spread across his face and Suyin doubted she’d won the battle at all.
‘Can you control him, Lady Ling?’ he asked.
This was precarious ground. ‘No one can control Li Tao.’
Lao Sou shook his head. ‘Nothing so sinister, my lady. I have a feeling you can persuade him where no one else could. Yin balances yang, does it not?’
This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? A chance for a compromise.
‘What do you require from him? One thing only.’
Lao Sou stroked his beard, enjoying the moment. ‘That requires some thought.’
After all their days and nights together, Li Tao still remained impenetrable. She wouldn’t try to deceive him, not even to save him. And he would never allow anyone to speak on his behalf.
She was being asked to make a promise she couldn’t keep, to a man she didn’t trust. But Li Tao was going to die if she didn’t do something. He would die without knowing he’d fathered a child. She was falling into a chasm, air rushing past her, almost certain death below.
‘Take me to him.’ It was a good thing the Old Man couldn’t read her expression and couldn’t see her doubt. ‘Li Tao will listen to me.’
The meeting point was further along the Jin River, in a remote location between major cities. A tea house rose along the banks to serve weary travellers, but the owners had evacuated weeks earlier when the barricades formed.
Li Tao’s army held the southern bank. He approached the tea house with only two of his bodyguards. Gao had done the same. He could see the horses tethered beside the bridge that spanned the water. The enemy was camped on the far side, out of sight.
Li Tao left his men by the bridge. He took the path slowly, using the time to empty his head of all doubt. The instinct was still in him. He didn’t need to search deep to find it. The coldness was there, sleeping just beneath his skin. It had always been there.
With steady breaths, in, then out, he slowed his heartbeat. Gao would be able to smell any fear on him, but he’d show none. He only needed to get close enough to strike.
Soon all his debts would be paid. His debt to Lao Sou. His debt to Suyin. He would end as a lone assassin, the same as he had started.
The tea house was a magnificent one, rising several floors with an elaborate frame of wooden beams and columns. Li Tao entered with all senses on alert. His footsteps echoed in the wide open spaces of the tea house. The tables and chairs were all empty. No ambush awaited him.
Gao had seated himself beside the window with the best view of the river. His guards stood against the wall, one on either side of the table. Only two men. Li Tao could take two.
The ageing warlord waited with a tray of wine set before him, looking formal and cultured in a silk robe trimmed with brocade. The blade at his side was likely tarnished from disuse. The warlord had gotten heavier in his grey years, but Gao’s advanced age gained no sympathy. His look was as shrewd as ever.
‘Governor Li.’ Gao’s tone could be described as jovial. And smug. ‘I’m pleased you’ve come.’
Li Tao’s very presence would have to mean he was considering the deal. Gao was a politician who trusted that two warlords would never draw swords directly against one another. That would be unfathomable. Uncivilised. Barbaric.
With a steady heart, Li Tao approached the table head on. He hadn’t yet drawn a path in his mind. His hands remained loose by his sides. For this sort of task, it was better not to plan too far in advance. Success or failure would be decided in a grain of time. A perfect moment.
No need to risk signalling his intention too soon.
Gao watched him with single-minded intensity, his eyes like dark glass. ‘No greeting, Governor Li?’
A nod. ‘Governor Gao.’
Li Tao stopped and planted his feet firmly against the floor boards. A coil of readiness wound within him, but outwardly he remained uncommitted, his shoulders relaxed. Utter stillness before the strike. Lao Sou trained assassins who could slip in and out of locked rooms. He recruited men and woman who killed with poison and made death look still and natural. Li Tao had never been one of those stealthy operators. He dealt death swift and clean.
Gao must have tasted something in the air. ‘Won’t you be seated?’
The old warlord’s gaze veered out to the river. Li Tao knew without reason, knew it in his blood that it had to be then.
He lashed forwards like an arrow, brash and blind.
Li Tao narrowed in on a single point: Gao’s throat. The killing instinct was there in his hands and in his blood. Gao’s smooth exterior faded. He opened his mouth to utter something, whether it was a question or a cry for help, Li Tao didn’t know.
He no longer thought of the man as his enemy. Gao no longer existed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Suyin rode behind Jun in the saddle, clinging to youth’s waist so tightly that her arms ached. The forest rushed by on either side of her in a flood of browns and greens. This time, the blind fear came not from the horse or from the speed of the ride. Her fear came from the inevitable drip of time.
She held her breath in a useless attempt to hold back the minutes. Her heart beat out each second, one after another. She urged Jun to go faster, but she didn’t know whether he heard her. The rush of the wind swallowed her shout and swept it away.
Li Tao was somewhere close, ready to plunge a dagger into Gao’s heart. A cold sweat broke out over her brow and an odd sensation caught in her throat. She fought down the wave of nausea. Whether it was from the motion or from pregnancy, she couldn’t tell.
She had to stop Li Tao. She had to.
A red bridge appeared ahead, with the tea house beside it. The ornate building stood over the river in a deceptively tranquil welcome. An Ying knew of the meeting place between the two warlords. Their spies seemed to know everything.
Jun dismounted just outside the tree line and helped her down from the saddle. Her legs wobbled as her feet hit the earth. She tried to centre herself, inside and out. Success. She’d only think of success, and not failure.
The boy steadied her with one arm awkwardly around her shoulders. Jun wasn’t merely a boy any more. He didn’t appear so young and vulnerable when she looked at him now.
‘Be careful, Lady Ling,’ he said, before pulling himself back on to the horse. ‘You’re going?’
The corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. ‘You forget how I betrayed Governor Li.’
‘I didn’t forget.’
‘Neither will he.’ He nodded toward the tea house in the distance. ‘Go quickly, Lady Ling. They’re already inside.’
She turned to the river and spied the horses beside the bridge. Beside them, Li Tao’s guards stood in a silent watch. They faced away, their attention focused on the opposite bank, in the direction of the approaching armies.
When she looked back, Jun had disappeared. She heard nothing, not even the stamp of hooves to signal his retreat. The woods were silent and shadowed as she searched the dark patches between the light. Was the clan hiding in there, watching and waiting to report on Li Tao’s failure or success?
She hurried to the tea house and slipped in through the side entrance. The echo of voices floated through the deserted structure. She heard two, both resonating down to her very bones. One was Li Tao’s, deep and familiar, curling around her and tugging her forwards.
He was alive. She quickened her step.
The second voice was one she hadn’t heard in years. One she’d hoped to never hear again.
Suyin came to a halt in the main room. Li Tao’s back was to her. He was stalking forwards with deliberate purpose and she caught sight of a long-forgotten face over his shoulder. Gao Shiming. The man who wanted her dead, who wanted Li Tao under his control.
Li Tao’s fingers flexed at his side. It was going to happen.
‘Governor Li.’ Louder. ‘Tao, I’m here.’
He swung around and glared at her with black eyes devoid of light. Her heart skipped dangerously.
‘Ling Guifei?’ Gao sputtered.
The old warlord was startled. His guards, confused. And Li Tao was angry, angrier than she’d ever seen him. The muscles in his jaw wrenched tight.
Of all of them, Gao recovered first. ‘Please join us.’ His smile was welcoming, his gaze keen.
‘You have no place here,’ Li Tao growled.
He angled himself to shield her from Gao as she stepped forwards. The fluidity of the movement shocked her.
‘But Lady Ling must stay! We need something more engaging to look at than our own frightful faces.’
All the smooth charm that Li Tao didn’t possess. Gao looked at the two of them with growing amusement. He didn’t know how close he’d come, how close he still was, to death. All three of them dangled preciously close to it.
Lao Sou had his men take her to the meeting place. They’d left her to disappear into the forest, but they would be waiting. The leader of the assassinations would demand her obedience now, as well as Li Tao’s. But she couldn’t think of that now. The immediate danger was before her, gesturing politely for her to sit.
She brushed past Li Tao to take one of the chairs at the table. He had no choice but to seat himself rigidly beside her. He was there. He was alive. Her heart ached at the sight of him and she wanted so much to touch him, but there was no opportunity. Gao was watching.
‘The last time I saw Ling Guifei was at the banquet hall in the imperial palace. These old eyes still remember the sight.’
‘It has been a long time, Governor Gao.’
