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

by Demelza Carlton

  Mao's eyes bored into Yi's, weighing his soul, or so it seemed. Finally, he said, "All right, Rooster. You will watch my back, and I will watch yours. You will fire the message arrow if we must. Together, we will find the fire lances and the flamethrowers and end this war."

  And then, Yi would be obedient to the Emperor's wishes. He would attend whatever court functions the Emperor chose to hold, and end in choosing one of Mao's sisters as his bride, and travel home with Mao to negotiate the marriage with the girl's father. As Mao's friend and future brother in law, the man could hardly refuse to train him. Yi truly would be the best swordsman in the kingdom. All thanks to Mao.

  Nineteen

  Mai tried to still the butterflies tumbling around in her belly as Heng helped her into her armour, but it was no use. The leather settled with a heavy layer of dread on her shoulders. Mai closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to become calm. This was no more difficult than taking a stroll into the village near her father's house. She would look like one of the people of Dean, not a spy come to conquer their city by stealth.

  Yi, on the other hand, looked every bit the proud rooster today. He didn't share her nerves – in fact, he looked excited about the coming battle, though they might arrive too late to be a part of it.

  "When we leave, I want you to ride for the capital and see that letter is delivered to my father," Yi said, pointing at scroll on the table he'd spent half the night hunched over.

  "Is it a final letter to your father, in case you fall in battle?" Mai asked, suddenly wishing she had spent the night writing one, too. She could die today, and she had never said goodbye to her father. Would she ever see him again?

  Yi laughed. "No. This is a stroll into the city, not a battle. I wrote to tell my father that the siege will soon be over, thanks to you, and to prepare for our triumphant return to the capital. If I know him, and I do, he will hold a ball with much dancing, so that I might choose a bride from among the girls. I daresay the girls will try to capture your heart as much as they reach for mine. After all, you will be the hero of the siege of Dean. I will make sure of it. You will have your choice of any woman you want." His gaze grew wistful.

  Yi had already chosen his bride, Mai guessed, for not many daydreamed without something to inspire such dreams. She might play at being a man, but she was under no illusion that such a lie would survive the marriage bed. No woman would have her, and no man either, if her stepmother was to be believed. That left her…no one.

  If she died today, no one would mourn her. But if she died with honour, the ancestors would welcome her spirit. Perhaps that was all the future Mai could hope for.

  The butterflies fluttered to a halt, stilled by her sombre thoughts. Heng's arms encircled her waist, buckling on her sword. Mai closed her eyes again, imagining for a moment that the arms were Yi's. Bliss, surely, but not for her. No, she would never be a bride, let alone his. The most she could do was fight at his side and perhaps die in his arms. Not such a bad fate.

  Yi could not die in the city, though. She would find a way to get him out, even if she could not. Perhaps one of his watchtower poets would sing songs about her when the war was over.

  Mai threw a coarse robe over the whole ensemble, tucking her hair into a cloth cap, which turned her from a soldier girded for war into a humble peasant, collecting hay or timber to take back inside the city. They'd all seen the work parties in the no man's land between the city walls and General Li's blockade, but the besiegers paid no attention to the men who foraged for such things every other day. They were the lowest of the low in the city, and beneath the notice of superior soldiers. Except for Mai, of course, who noticed that they left the city through one of the smaller gates, where armed guards stood inside waiting, but the guards never looked at the men's faces. Their attention was for General Li's soldiers.

  Today, when the peasants sallied forth from the city, then spread out across the weed-choked plain, Yi and Mai joined them, keeping their heads bowed as they collected the dried weeds and stuffed them in a sack.

  The monotonous work made Yi restless, and more than once Mai noticed him losing his humble pose to survey his surroundings, like no peasant would in the presence of his betters. She hissed at him to get back to work.

  Finally, she heard distant shouts and thumps from the other side of the city. The gate guards heard it, too, beckoning the cityfolk back inside, quickly, before they shut the gate. Mai broke into a run, hearing Yi's heavy footfalls hot on her heels, as she fell in with the other men. They hustled into the city, and the gate was barred behind them.

  No one stopped to even look at her face, or Yi's – as Mai made her way deeper into the city. Her plan had worked. They were in.

  Twenty

  General Li's diversion, throwing stones over the wall with trebuchets to give his men practice for the flaming assault in the near future, lasted for a little over an hour. More than long enough for Yi and Mai to ascertain how well guarded every gate was in the city walls. They found a house a few streets in, falling down from neglect, that might do for shelter for the night, if they were forced to stay inside the city.

  Several hours later, when the guards' vigilance showed no signs of lessening, Yi lay on the dirt floor beside the tiny fire, sketching a map of the city and every fire lance and flamethrower they'd found. Mao had pointed out what he thought was a fuel storage hut, for he'd glimpsed jars that resembled those the soldiers used to refuel the flamethrowers on the walls. Dutifully, Yi added that to his map as well. Destroying the fuel stores would be as helpful as destroying the weapons as well.

  When he was finished, he copied the map three times, then bound each sheet of paper tightly around an arrow. Four arrows with maps – surely one would make its way back to General Li.

  He took first watch while Mao slept beside him on the dirt floor. Yi resolved to do whatever it took to get the boy out of the city on the morrow. The chaos of a burning city was no place for him. No man could fight a panicked mob, and Mao would be trampled far too easily. No, they would wait for tomorrow's diversion, send the arrows toward their target, and find a way back outside.

  Yi stared down tenderly at the boy. He had many brothers, but none he cared about quite as much as he did for Mao. Was it because they had fought together so much? he pondered. Perhaps. Or maybe it was something about Mao himself. For all his fighting skill, there was a softness about him that Yi did not understand.

  Mao woke him at dawn, when they both knew Li would start looking for them. They stripped off their peasant garb and climbed the walls, bows in hand, when the city rang the bells to signify a call to arms. Li had placed a platoon of soldiers near the gate where they'd entered, who seemed intent on breaking through the gate, too.

  Yi shook his head, not sure whether the assault was serious or yet another distraction on Li's part. Never mind. He took aim at their shields, imagining himself at target practice in camp. Each red-feathered arrow found its mark, and were embedded deeply enough in the hide not to be easily dislodged. With luck, at least one of them would make it back to camp.

  After some time, the much-reduced platoon retreated back behind the blockade, dragging their injured comrades with them. Yi counted at least three red-fletched arrows among the party, and breathed a sigh of relief. Even if they couldn't make it out before the true assault on the city started, he and Mao could hole up in the falling down house until the gates opened. They had enough food for a day or two, before they would need to find some more.

  On their way down from the walls, they were accosted by a hawker, who grilled skewers of meat and vegetables over a brazier. Anything was better than their rations. Yi paid for two servings of the stuff, handing one to Mao. It was the best thing he'd tasted in weeks, and it looked like Mao agreed.

  No wonder Dean held out so long against the siege. When they were so well-provisioned, they had little to lose.

  In the shadow of a supply hut near one of the smaller gates, he and Mao sat down to enjoy their lunch. Yi,
who had taken the lion's share of the watch the previous night, dozed off.

  Mao roughly shook him awake what felt like only a moment later, but must have been hours, given how much the noon shadows had lengthened in that time. The boy's eyes were wide with panic. "They're attacking again. And this time, they have fire."

  Yi jumped to his feet, fully alert. "Li wasn't supposed to attack until morning. What is he thinking?"

  Mao shook his head grimly. "I don't know. He surely can't mean to fight through the night. That would be – "

  Something big and orange came sailing over the wall, filling the air with searing heat. Then the whole world exploded.

  Twenty-One

  For a rooster, Yi sure was heavy, Mai grumbled to herself as she shoved him off her. She'd slammed into the city wall, thrown by the explosion as Li's flaming missile hit the fuel storage hut that now no longer existed. The smell of scorched flesh reached her nose and Mai gagged. Only then did she notice that some of the fuel had landed on Yi's armour, where it still burned. She tried rolling him along the ground to extinguish the flames, but it was no use. Finally, she stripped his armour off him, but the damage was done. His back was a bloody mess that only the healers could take care of. She had to get him back to camp.

  Another missile landed on the wall overhead, sending out a splash of orange light as it engulfed one of the fire lances. She had to move quickly, or both she and Yi might become casualties of General Li.

  Mai took a deep breath. There was only one way she could get Yi out of there. It took all her strength to heave him onto her shoulders, and even then she staggered under his weight. But she had to get him out.

  Step by agonising step, she made her way to the nearest gate. A small side gate, barely wide enough for one person to walk through, it had been left unguarded while men rushed around, attempting to put out the fires, even as Li's missiles lit more.

  Mai kicked at the bar, knowing that if she set Yi down, she'd never manage to lift him again. She inched the bar up for what felt like an eternity until finally it rose above the brackets that held it, unlocking the gate. She managed to get the gate half open before she was nearly trampled by a platoon of Li's soldiers, who had been battering at the gate in an attempt to get in. She flattened herself against the wall as they trooped past her, ignoring both her and Yi until she recognised the soldiers who had first asked to join her and Yi in their morning sparring sessions.

  "Min!" she gasped out. "The Prince of Swords is injured. Help me get him back to camp."

  Min stopped and stared, but after a moment, he nodded and halted the flow of troops into the city so Mai could carry Yi out. Min led the way back to the blockade, where a temporary hospital had already been set up.

  Mai cried out in relief as Yi's weight was taken from her and transferred to a bed. Healers converged on him, cutting away his clothes from his ruined back as they argued on how best to treat the burns.

  "What happened?" someone asked Mai.

  "We were inside the city when one of the General's thunderbolt balls hit the fuel storage hut. He shielded me from the blast, which set fire to his armour. I couldn't put out the flames, so I took his armour off," Mai said, waving her hands.

  "And burned yourself in the process," the healer said. "Just look at those hands. You sit right here, and I'll fetch some salve for them. It might not help him, but those are going to hurt."

  Might not…? The healers might not be able to help Yi? Mai's heart constricted in her chest. They had to save him. She'd carried him out on her back to find someone who could save him. He couldn't die now. Not after all that.

  "Save him first," she blurted out, dragging her stool over to his bedside. "Nothing matters more than the prince. You have to save him."

  "We will," the healer soothed, smoothing something smelly over her hands. "You just sit there and watch. We'll do everything we can for him, but we won't know how badly he is hurt until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

  If?

  Mai couldn't even consider the possibility that Yi wouldn't wake up. He'd been hurt trying to save her from the blast. She owed him her life. "He will," she said fiercely. "And when he does, I will be here beside him to tell him the news of our victory over Dean."

  "Has the General won already?" the healer asked, as calmly as though he was asking about the weather.

  "I do not know," Mai replied. "But if he is not, the Emperor will not forgive his failure. For losing the prince would be too high a price for anything less than a complete victory. If you see General Li, you tell him. His strategy has put Prince Yi in hospital."

  "The General never visits us here. If he is unwell, he sends for a healer to his tent, not the other way around. And speaking of healing, those hands of yours will need more than salve. I'm going to bandage them up and mix you a draught for the pain. You'll be staying here tonight."

  "Until he wakes, I will stay anyway. Do what you must," Mai said, gritting her teeth as even the brush of bandages against her tender skin hurt. Nevertheless, she endured it. She drank the cup of foul-tasting tea and settled down to wait.

  Twenty-Two

  Yi sank into his favourite dream. The one where he was victorious from hit latest battle, and he lay in the arms of his bride, a woman whose softness and curves were his alone to caress. When she moaned in pleasure, her voice was low and husky – none of the high-pitched, childish giggling so popular among court ladies. He would happily spend every night devoted to bringing her joy, if only to hear her voice. Yet she was no shy, delicate doll – oh, no. She had all the brazenness of a camp follower as she returned his attentions in equal measure. His scars earned him kisses, not disgust, like they would from court ladies who preferred their men as pretty as themselves. A real woman for a real man – that was what he craved. Surely such a woman existed. He had to find her, because a lifetime of searching was worth it for even a single night of bliss in her arms.

  A woman whose face he had never seen.

  In the dream, his sight cleared, and once again, he beheld not a woman, but Mao's face.

  Yi jerked awake, cursing. Why the boy had to invade his dreams like that, he did not know. If he married one of Mao's sisters, he would demand Mao leave them alone on their wedding night. And every other night, come to think of it.

  Mao lay on the next pallet, fast asleep. It took Yi a moment to realise he could see far more clearly than usual, and the tent was bigger and noisier, too.

  "What the – " he began, sitting up to take in his surroundings properly.

  One of the big barracks tents had been turned into a hospital, which was full of wounded men. Why was he there, then? He wasn't wounded. The last thing he could remember was eating lunch with Mao inside Dean when General Li had attacked the city earlier than planned.

  And the fuel storage hut had exploded.

  Mao was here, in bed. Was he injured?

  "Mao, wake up," Yi said urgently, reaching over to shake the boy. "Mao!"

  When the boy didn't immediately wake, Yi shouted for a healer.

  A harassed-looking healer hurried over, hushing him. "You should lie right back down, or you'll make me have to bandage you again. I'll give you a sleeping draught like I did him. You're not the only patient here, you know!"

  A sleeping draught. No wonder Mao wouldn't wake. Yi released him. "Is he injured?" Yi demanded.

  "He burned his hands, trying to save you," the healer said. "It will hurt some, but he won't scar as bad as you. What did you do? Mistake a flamethrower for your bed?"

  "I…" Yi couldn't remember. There had been the explosion, then everything went dark. "I don't know. Did he tell you?"

  "He carried you in here, shouting for a healer. Looks like you took a blast to the back. That stuff even burns armour. I didn't believe it at first, until I saw the evidence with my own eyes. You two are the only burned ones, though. Seems the General has done something right this time." The healer nodded.

  No, he hadn't. General Li had attacked early, Yi fumed.
He and Mao should have been well out of the city before he launched the attack. Instead, they'd been caught in the middle of it and Mao…

  Yi tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The very thought that the boy had been hurt by Li's bungling cut him to the core. Li would not get away with this.

  Yi rose, laying a hand on the healer's shoulder to steady myself. "I must speak with the General."

  The healer shook his head. "You're not leaving this hospital in that condition. You need to get back into bed."

  Yi bristled. "Who are you to give the Emperor's son orders? I will go where I wish, healer. Look to your patients.”

  “You are my patient,” the healer pointed out drily. “If I give you one of my healing potions to improve your health, will you drink it, your Highness?”

  Yi’s back ached, as though he had become an old man while he slept. “If it will ease the pain in my back, yes.”

  He gulped down the bitter brew and handed the cup back to the healer. “Take care of our injured troops, healer. The Emperor may need them yet. For now Dean has fallen, the other northern cities may come seeking vengeance for our victory.”

  The healer’s expression grew sombre. “Where will it end?”

  “In a united empire, of course! Perhaps not in your lifetime or mine, but one day. For we are men, born to fight, and we always will.” Yi grinned and strode out of the tent.

  It wasn’t until he was certain no one could see his face that he allowed himself to grimace at what he had to admit was a frightful pain in his back. It stung, like someone had stripped the skin from it. Yi had half a mind to strip the bandages from his torso and take a good look at the damage, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother with that now. Once he had spoken to General Li and was back in the privacy of his tent, then he could ask for Heng’s help.