Dance: Cinderella Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale series Book 3)

by Demelza Carlton

  "I don't slaughter women. I fight enemy soldiers in battle, and bring honour to our family name when I am victorious. That is my purpose, Father," Yi said, yanking his sword free of the practice dummy. A shower of straw came with it.

  The Emperor sighed. "I know that is what you have done, but I have more than enough generals. What I do not have is a suitably married heir to the throne, with children of his own to ensure the succession of our dynasty."

  Yi's hands clenched around his sword. He whirled and lopped off the practice dummy's head. He wanted to hack the hapless straw man to pieces, but he feared even that would not soothe his frustration. "And what if I don't want to marry anyone, Father, let alone some suitable girl? Every maiden in court has feet so tiny she trots like a pig on its hind legs, and all they seem able to do is dance and giggle like animated dolls. All the same. Can you imagine one of them as Empress? Mother would have the poor girl for breakfast, while I go away to fight in the next war."

  "We are at peace. Except for your uncle's foolish obsession with the city of Dean, there are no battles left to fight, boy," Yun snapped. "Sheath your sword. Preferably in your willing wife. One who can give you sons."

  "So that in time, I will have this discussion with my sons, as you are with me?" Yi asked with a wry smile. Obedient to his father's wishes, he slid his sword into its leather sheath at his side. "I am not ready to settle down to a life in court, where I will grow fat as all I do is waddle between my wife's bed and your chambers, to advise you or carry out whatever minor errands you think suitable. Perhaps it is time to look at expanding our borders. That I would at least be good at."

  "We are at peace!" Yun exploded. "We do not make war on our neighbours. Especially not while General Li keeps most of our army occupied in the siege of Dean. We are a nation of cultured, educated, enlightened…."

  "How long do you think our neighbours will leave us alone if they know the noblemen of our court spend more time on poetry than swordplay? Some of them have never fought a single opponent, let alone a battle. The last battle I fought, they ran screaming from the field at the first sign of blood, for all the world like they were girls shrieking at a spider. Your cultured, enlightened courtiers are weak, Father."

  Yun took a deep breath. "I know. In a time of peace and prosperity, we have the luxury of learning to write good poetry, instead of fighting for our lives. So that they may be weak…their rulers must be strong. The Empress and I protect our people with our strength, and that of the armies who serve us. One day, you will do the same, I hope, or your sons will."

  "I serve you best in the army, Father. I have no patience for court. You know that."

  "In time, perhaps you will learn patience, as I did. And learn to see the value of poetry. For no warrior is forgotten when his deeds are immortalised in a ballad the people love." Yun smiled. "Perhaps that is what you need. A woman who is your complement, your opposite, your partner. While you fight, she will compose poetry so that your descendants will recount your deeds forever."

  "The only partner I want is one who can oppose me when I train. I have no use for a woman, unless she holds a sword. There are tales of warrior women of old, and even the old general, Sunxi, taught a king's concubines to fight. If I can train an army, I can certainly train one woman," Yi said.

  "The only sword you want your wife to hold is yours. In bed. In the past, there were warrior women. Unnatural creatures that necessity forged into fighters. Those kind of women no longer exist, Yi." Yun sighed. "But I will make a deal with you. You are still young. Go to Dean, and end the siege. General Li listens to you. Enjoy the battle while it lasts. But when it is over…you will come home. I will hold a court ball and invite every noble maiden in the kingdom, and from their number, you shall choose a bride."

  "I don't want a bride," Yi said through clenched teeth.

  "Is it men you prefer, then?" Yun asked. "For ancestors' sake, boy, you don't have to love the girl. Just close your eyes and imagine she is someone else, poke her a bit, and beget some sons! You must marry. I command it."

  The Emperor did not issue commands to his son very often, and Yi was both a dutiful son and a loyal subject.

  Yi sighed. "No, Father, I do not want a lover of any kind, male or female. I wish only to fight, for that is when I feel most alive. But if you command it, then I will obey. I will go to the siege at Dean, and when it is over, I shall return and marry whatever girl you wish."

  "Whatever girl you wish, boy. You're the one who has to bed her, not me," Yun grumbled, but Yi could see his father was hiding a smile. The Emperor had gotten his way, as he always did.

  At least Yi got one more campaign. And if General Li was in command, it would be a long campaign indeed. Yi wouldn't have to look at a woman again until the siege was over. Better yet, maybe his father would grow tired of waiting, and choose one of his brothers as his heir instead, leaving Yi free to command armies in the Emperor's name. Bliss, surely.

  Nine

  Mai rode at the head of an army, or at least she thought she did, until the city of Dean rose into view. What she saw made the troops at her back look like a troupe of travelling performers after a night of carousing. Tired, undisciplined and dirty. Mai barely noticed as the men were marched off to one of the fortified camps ringing the city around. She was too busy marvelling at the construction that had gone into besieging an entire city.

  Dean itself was huge, its massive walls rising high above the surrounding plain, dwarfing the moat that seemed a mere puddle at its feet.

  A second line of walls encircled the first, though they was thinner and made of timber. Tree trunks had been cut down and their tops sharpened into spikes to make these walls, which were broken by camps and watchtowers all the way along. Too many to count. How many men did General Li have? Not enough to man all of this, surely – hence why her father's people had been called up to enlist.

  This didn't match her idea of battle. That involved two armies, clashing on the plain. The clash of swords and spears and the twang of bowstrings. How did one fight a war with all these buildings?

  Mai pondered the question as she surveyed the encampment. Some of the watchtowers had wheels at the bottom, and were joined in pairs by a sort of skybridge between them. They were siege towers, then, capable of being wheeled to the wall and used to help the General's troops climb into the city. They looked complete, so why had the General not employed them for their purpose? Perhaps he did not have the men.

  Still, it seemed foolish to keep the siege towers on display, where they were clearly visible from the city walls. The defenders would know what was coming, and have time to plan a defensive strategy against them. The besieging army would be at a disadvantage, heading into terrain they did not know. An enclosed city, no less, where the defenders lived and knew better than anyone else could.

  Now, if they could tempt the city's forces out of the gates, then the besiegers might have an advantage. But what could be tempting enough to entice them out? Perhaps…

  "You're to report to General Li," the messenger said, interrupting Mai's battle plans. "I'll take you to the command tent, and then I can return to the capital. Where things are civilised."

  Mai followed him into the biggest stockade, which sat on a natural rise on the otherwise flat plain. The General's tent was actually a wooden hut, built on a mound of earth in the middle of camp overlooking what appeared to be a training ground. The General himself was the only man in full armour, though he carried his helmet under his arm as he watched the troops training below.

  No, not training. Sparring, Mai noticed with interest. She had not trained with an opponent since she left her father's household, and she was eager to learn to fight better against someone more skilled than she.

  "This is the last one. Yeong Mao, Yeong Fu's son," the messenger announced, shoving Mai forward so that she almost overbalanced.

  She righted herself before she fell at the General's feet. "My father sent me to learn the art of war, General," Mai sa
id. "He has trained me well."

  General Li snorted. "That's what they all say, right up until they turn and run in battle. Cowards. Right. Whatever-your-name-is, go join the other young noblemen down there. First, we'll see how well you can fight, and then give you something to do."

  He turned to speak to one of his aides, effectively dismissing her.

  The messenger seemed mesmerised by the group of young men the General had pointed to. "Good luck, Yeong Mao," he said softly.

  Mai swallowed. "Thank you," she said. "I wish you a safe journey back to the capital."

  She joined the circle of boys, who formed a ring around two combatants. The smaller of the two, a boy perhaps a year or two older than Mai and not much bigger, struggled to hold his wooden sword aloft, even as he gripped the hilt with both shaking hands. The other boy – more a man, Mai decided, smacked his own wooden blade against the smaller boy's sword almost lazily, sending it flying across the circle to land at Mai's feet.

  Mai reached down for the sword, which felt surprisingly light in her hand. Her father's wooden blades had a metal core, weighting them much like a proper sword, but this one was all wood. She looked up, intended to offer the practice blade back to the disarmed boy, but he now lay on his belly in the dirt, begging for mercy from the bigger boy whose blade merely touched the back of the downed boy's neck.

  "Next," the victor drawled, letting his foe up.

  The boy scrambled out of the circle as fast as his feet could carry him.

  The next challenger was built like an ox. He would have no trouble lifting the light sword, Mai thought, as he tossed it from hand to hand like it weighed nothing. Then the challenger adopted a bold stance, knees bent, facing the victor of the previous bout.

  "Try that on someone your own size!" the challenger called.

  The victor strode forward, his muscles bunching as he delivered his first thrust.

  The challenger managed a clumsy block, but his movements were too slow. He might have the strength to fight, but he had little practice with a sword, Mai decided. The victor delivered a series of slashing blows that his opponent barely managed to block in time, until one cut made it through, tearing through the fabric of the boy's tunic.

  Mai glimpsed pale flesh for a moment before the boy dropped his blade, turned tail and ran out of the circle.

  "The General will put him to good use, running messages in battle!" the victor said.

  A few of the boys in the circle sniggered at this, but the laughter died quickly when they realised the man in the middle wasn't laughing. Instead, he pointed at those who had. "You, you and you. In that order. You're up next."

  The boys ducked their heads in obedience, and the first one trudged across the dirt to meet his fate.

  Without taking her eyes off the fight, Mai asked the boy beside her, "Who is he?"

  "The Prince of Swords, Gong Ji," the boy whispered.

  Gong Ji…the man's name was Rooster? Mai tried again. "Who?"

  "Best swordsman in the kingdom, or so he says. No one's managed to beat him yet. The General said if we can stay on our feet for a turn of the hourglass in the ring with him, we will be assigned to his camp, and will lead troops in battle when we breach the city walls. The rest of us will go to different watchtowers to stand guard over the city."

  Stand guard? There was no honour in guard duty. Leading troops into battle…if Mai wanted to earn honour for her family, then she must find a way to fight this Prince of Swords.

  "How many have beaten the hourglass?" Mai asked.

  The boy swallowed. "So far, none."

  The Prince of Swords was a master swordsman indeed, then. An enemy she must know as well as she knew herself, for Mai to be victorious.

  For the first time, she took a good look at the man, instead of his less skilled opponents. The prince lowered his head and barrelled into a boy, knocking him into the dirt. The prince was a big man, who used his size and strength to his advantage against smaller opponents like this one. He held his sword like a man who had trained for longer than Mai had, for it moved with a fluidity that spoke of experience with a good teacher. His sword truly was an extension of his arm – and a long arm, too. He used his bigger reach to attack his opponents before they had the chance to touch him, forcing them to defend against a fast flurry of blows that were designed to distract, not hit, until the prince saw an opening and took it. Not to hurt or to kill – no, he knocked his opponent down. In battle, his enemy would be trampled or run through, Mai knew. She suspected the prince did, too.

  She watched him peel off his sweat-soaked tunic and use it to mop his face. Her belly sort of swirled a little, as if she was suddenly hungry for something. Strange. She'd eaten some of her travel rations only an hour ago. Why the sight of a man's muscled body made her feel hungry again, she had no idea. Yet as she stared, she realised he had an impressive collection of scars. Battle scars. The prince was a veteran of many battles, if his back was any indication. He would lead troops into battle. Perhaps he already had – many times. Now Mai's appetite took a different turn – she hungered for his knowledge and experience, so that she might lead troops to victory, too.

  "Any of you other ladies want to come and dance with me?" the prince asked, turning slowly on the spot so he could meet the eyes of every boy who dared raise his gaze from the dirt. "Or will you all be standing guard on the watchtowers like the others?"

  It was now or never.

  Mai stepped forward. "I shall dance with you."

  Ten

  Even as Yi called out his final challenge to the circle of boys, he knew what their answer would be. He'd defeated too many of them for the rest to have the courage to face him. What was left were the cowards who were not fit for war. Bureaucrats who belonged in the capital, his father's new batch of aspiring poets, and…

  "I will dance with you."

  Yi looked up in surprise to meet the eyes of a boy he hadn't seen before. Small for his age or perhaps younger than the rest, he was hardly an impressive specimen, but he was no coward. His eyes brimmed with determination as he lifted the wooden practice sword in a fighting stance that even Yi had to admit looked convincing. The boy's small stature would be his downfall, though – he would be no match for Yi's strength, or that of an enemy soldier.

  Yi considered rushing the boy, but decided to let him attack first. There was something different about this one. "I am ready," he announced, beckoning the boy to advance.

  The boy stood firm and shook his head. "Where is the hourglass?" he demanded.

  The forgotten timekeeper was produced and set back on its stool. Yi could feel the boy's eyes on him as he turned it and let the sand flow. "There," Yi said, moving to face the boy again.

  The boy smiled, almost as though he was eager to begin. "I am ready," he said.

  Yi had to admire his gall as the boy beckoned him to attack. Had he not been watching the other…well, one could hardly call them battles. Bouts, maybe. Very short ones.

  "Then attack," Yi said.

  The boy shook his head once more. He darted a glance at the hourglass.

  Yi stifled a grin. So that was the boy's strategy. Stall until the sand ran out. If he would not attack, then Yi would.

  Yi darted across the circle until he was two strides from the boy, then ducked his head and barrelled into him.

  Or he would have, except where the boy had been a moment ago, Yi met only air. His foot connected with something, hooking under it, and he pitched forward. He tried to turn it into a combat roll, but his foot was caught and he sprawled on his belly in the dirt instead.

  He'd tripped. Somehow, he'd tripped on uneven ground and fallen. It could have happened to anyone.

  Yi rose to his feet, scanning the ground for the unseen obstacle. All he saw was a shoe, which matched the other one the boy still wore. He'd run so fast, he'd left his shoe behind for Yi to trip over. Fortuitous.

  As if the boy could read his mind, he removed his other shoe and tossed it under the stool
. Now he fought barefoot.

  Yi tucked the lost shoe into his pocket. "We're not through yet," he said, raising his sword. Though the boy had no more shoes to ambush him with, Yi didn't charge again. Instead, he concentrated on speed, moving the wooden blade so fast none of the other boys had had a chance to block him.

  Not so this one. He blocked every blow, stepping into Yi's reach instead of out of it, giving his shorter arms the advantage until he was so close every time he blocked, the hilt of his sword tapped Yi's chest.

  Yi thought little of it – what were a few bruises from training? – until the boy slammed the hilt of his sword into Yi's solar plexus. Yi coughed, unable to breathe, but he knew it would be only temporary. He whirled away from the boy, putting space between them once more to give him time to recover.

  Time he did not have. The boy harried him, trading blows every step of Yi's retreat until Yi managed to suck in another breath.

  "Enough playing," Yi said sharply. He stepped forward, thinking to force the boy back with another flurry of blows, but he stood his ground. Still, he left an opening that Yi was waiting for. He bulled into the boy with his shoulder, determined to knock him into the dirt.

  The boy twisted and Yi found he'd overreached. Already off balance, Yi stepped forward to right himself, but his foot caught on something again. This time, instead of falling on his face, he landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him once more. And there was no shoe in sight.

  Honour forced Yi to his feet. He could not be seen lying in the dirt – not even if he was the victor of a hundred bouts today would they have any respect for him if this boy beat him. Grimly, he lifted his sword once more.

  The boy held up his hand, palm out. "The hourglass is out of sand," he announced. "And I am still on my feet."

  By the ancestors, so he was. Yi threw his sword in the dirt. "You boys, collect up the practice swords and put them away, then report to the General's aide for watchtower assignments." He pointed. "You, you and you will join the runners. And you – " he glared at the boy who'd beaten him – "What is your name?"