by JC Kang
Despite the chill air, sweat glistened on Little Huang’s forehead. “We have an emergency! Princess Kaiya has gone missing.”
Tian’s stomach flipped. Princess Kaiya…as children, they’d been best friends. They’d promised to marry each other. Silly, for sure, and three thousand, one hundred and forty-seven days had passed since their last meeting, but still. Now she was missing while a rebellion brewed. “Who knows about it?”
“Two servants came forward,” Little Huang said. “That’s all I know. Master Yan ordered all available agents back to Huajing to search for her.”
Tian exchanged glances with Jie. If the rebellious lords found out, they’d spare no effort to take the princess hostage. “If we ran, it would take us three hours to reach the West Gates.”
“You can’t go back.” Jie picked herself off Jiang.
He frowned. Banishment or not, he had to help. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And you need to make sure the river barges stay docked. And what if Jiang’s men coming looking for him?” What was that look? Pleading?
Tian sighed. She was right. There was still a mission here, and anything could happen in three hours. Still, “We can’t just let the rebels capture her.”
“You can’t, and we don’t even know if the traitors know. I will go back by horse relay, tell Master Yan what we’ve found out. You take care of things here.”
Tian nodded. He still needed to complete the last part of his plan: go to the harbormaster, tell him about the contraband, and have him come to the docks with soldiers to impound the cargo. He looked up at Jie, his own eyes undoubtedly begging, Please make sure she is safe.
CHAPTER 19
Uncommitted Resolve
Sitting in Foreign Minister Song’s receiving room, Kaiya’s heart roared in her ears. Maybe that was better, since it drowned out the Dragon Scale Lute’s horrific echo in her mind. It would almost be better if Song refused to relinquish it.
He took a deep breath and bowed his head. “Dian-xia, I am sure my father would be honored if you received this lute as a gift.”
Prince Hardeep’s hand tightened on her shoulder, sending warmth surging through her. Kaiya’s pulse raced as she focused on the beautiful lute. It hadn’t seemed possible this morning, but now, she might really be able to help Hardeep. Was it worth hearing the lute’s moan again?
The chamberlain bowed as well. “I will inform the Foreign Minister of the gift when he returns from the reception.”
The reception…some guests must be leaving by now. Kaiya looked at the dwarf-made water clock, now indicating that Caiyue waxed to its third gibbous. One hour had already passed since she left the palace. She turned back to her hosts and offered a nod. “Thank you for your generosity.”
Generosity, indeed. She stifled a sigh. She had used her position to strong-arm it away. A servant entered with a silk brocade bag and held it open for her. She slid the lute in and passed it to Prince Hardeep. He strapped it to his back.
The servants all bowed as she rose to her feet, and the chamberlain escorted her and the prince to the outside gates. There, he held a low bow.
Outside, Prince Hardeep took her hands. “Thank you so much. I could never have done this by myself.”
His hands, on hers, drew her closer. The warmth was reassuring, mingling with the rice wine dancing in her head. Maybe she’d abused her position, but it was for the right reasons. The liberation of an occupied people. The revival of a lost art. The chance of being more than just a political bride. All possible because this one man saw true potential in her.
He placed one hand on the small of her back and cradled her nape with the other.
Fire erupted all through her. Never had a man embraced her like this. Her stomach buzzed like a hummingbird’s wings. All three moons seemed to shine on only them. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up to him, parting her lips to offer him her first kiss.
Nothing.
Then, a finger touched her lips. She opened her eyes to meet his sigh.
“We must stay focused,” he said. “For now. I can’t lose myself in you.” His arms released her.
The warmth fled her body as the cool night air rushed in. The alcohol haze still fogged her mind, but at least now, things were a little clearer. She’d been about to kiss a man! How could she even consider something so inappropriate?
That, on top of breaking several rules, risking servants so she could escape the palace, and intimidating a senior minister’s son. Now, the rejection. Of course he would. She was plain and lanky, and all he really needed was a gullible princess to coerce a minister’s son into giving up a magical artifact.
“Please, Kaiya, come with me.” The manipulator took her hand and tugged her along.
Pulling back, she held her ground. “No, this is wrong. I understand your need to help your country, but maybe there are better channels. Let me present the case to my father again.”
He let out a long sigh. “You are right. I am so sorry. I was so excited at your breakthrough earlier today, and again, that we so easily retrieved the Dragon Scale Lute. I will take you home now, before anyone gets in trouble.”
His beautiful eyes seemed so defeated. He was placing her concerns over the welfare of his own people. Guilt clawed at her chest. She stared down at the pavestones until he tugged her into a walk.
Kaiya kept her head down as they plodded in somber silence. At her side, Hardeep mumbled something unintelligible. She looked up and found the profile of his sharp chin. The sudden motion sent her head spinning again, a black tunnel narrowing her field of vision. She stumbled.
His arm shot out and caught her. “Let me support you. We are fairly close to the palace.”
Blinking away the blurriness, she leaned into him. Oh, if only she could help him without having to break so many rules.
Up ahead, low voices muttered in Ayuri. Hardeep jerked to a stop, pulling her closer. If they had returned the way they had come, it might mean more Madurans, ready to ambush them again. Her hand strayed to Cousin Kai-Long’s dagger as she scanned the surroundings.
Hardeep’s hand patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right. They are my people.”
“How can you tell?”
They turned a corner and he pointed. Dozens of men, women, and children huddled around tables in the middle of a street between two rows of dilapidated buildings. “Your father, in his generosity, allowed refugees from Ankira to stay on this block.”
She’d never heard of such a decision, nor had she ever seen such a run-down place so close to the noble’s district. Then again, her processions always stuck to main roads, and the distance between the houses here suggested tertiary streets.
Lit by the plump Blue Moon and the half-White Moon, barefooted children wearing threadbare kurta shirts chased each other in raucous circles. At the tables, where light baubles cast domes of light, women in faded sari gossiped among each other as they ate a meager meal. The few men were all middle-aged, dressed in tattered clothes, sitting on rickety chairs as they chatted.
Kaiya’s belly clenched. They all had to be hungry and freezing, while her people feasted in the warmth of the palace.
At her side, Prince Hardeep sighed. “Lord Peng understands our plight. He suggested bringing you here to meet me, but the Madurans’ hired knives were waiting. That’s why I met you closer to the palace. Come.”
His hand, so large and reassuring, released hers. The lingering warmth in her fingers tingled away, leaving a hollow sensation in her chest. He beckoned her to follow. Up close, the pungent scent of turmeric hung in the air, mixing in with a cinnamon aroma, which swirled from steaming cups. Children stopped running and the men and women all looked up.
Hardeep leaned in. “Most of these people had ties to the Hua trade office in Akira. Your officials there helped many escape. Now, they work as laborers and servants for wages so low, they can barely feed themselves. Some of the prettier girls end up in the Floating World for rich men with exotic
tastes.”
Kaiya’s chest constricted. How horrible. She’d compared marriage to death, but what these girls suffered… She examined their expressions. All bore lines of worry on their proud faces. One young woman in particular looked striking. Her features were less round, her complexion lighter, speaking of some Hua blood. She lowered her head.
“Prince…Hardeep?” The oldest man pressed his hands together. “Thank you for your assistance. Please, bring your guest to join us.” He scooted over and gestured to a pair of seats.
Hardeep extended an open hand, inviting her to go first. “Please, Kaiya. You must be hungry.”
Her tummy rumbled its assent. Heat flared in her cheeks. She’d had at least six or seven cups of rice wine, and never had a chance to actually eat anything solid. With a nod of her head, she settled in the indicated chair.
And nearly fell, again.
Hardeep grabbed her arm, sparing her yet more embarrassment.
“Poor girl.” One of the middle-aged women clucked, placing a cup of dark liquid in front of her. “Here, drink some chai. It will warm you up on this chill night.”
Kaiya accepted it, savoring the warmth the cup radiated into her hands. Certainly not as intense as Hardeep’s warmth, but comforting nonetheless. She took a sip. The smooth tea slid down her throat, dancing in a burst of spices. Heat percolated through her.
“Eat, eat!” Another woman slid a cracked porcelain plate in front of her. Another ladled what appeared to be shredded chicken in a yellow sauce on top of a round disk of flatbread.
Kaiya looked at the center dishes from which the refugees served. Her own plate must have accounted for half of what remained. She shook her head. “No, I can’t possibly…”
Hardeep laughed. “In my homeland, even beggars will treat their guests as royalty.”
How ironic. Kaiya forced a polite smile.
He leaned in and whispered, “Eat. Otherwise, you will offend them.”
Kaiya swept her gaze around the table. Expectant eyes met hers. Very well, she would eat. Her stomach certainly demanded it, and it would be bad manners to decline. However, there didn’t seem to be any chopsticks or any other kind of utensils. She fiddled with a lock of hair.
“Use your hands,” Hardeep said. “Tear the flatbread, eat it with the chicken.”
Hands. Kaiya studied hers, which had touched ancient musical instruments, dirty shirts, furniture, and princes’ hands. Gulping air, she reached out and ripped off a piece of sauce-covered bread. It smelled wonderful. Bad manners or not, she pushed the whole thing in her mouth and chewed. Turmeric, sugar, and other spices swirled over her tongue. Piece after piece disappeared as her stomach urged her on.
Around her, the Ankiran refugees broke out into laughter.
One woman clapped her hands. “She is hungry!”
“Your Excellency, you can’t afford to feed her,” one of the men said.
Prince Hardeep laughed. “Not with what is left in the national treasury, no.”
Kaiya paused on a bite. Ankira was bankrupted because of Hua’s avarice, which she put on full display now. Perhaps her dress was paid for on the backs of the Ankirans.
He placed a hand between her shoulder blades. “The way you are eating, you might deplete your own country’s treasury.”
Blood burned in Kaiya’s cheeks.
“A song!” Hardeep rose from his seat and beckoned one of the middle-aged men. “Bring me a sitar.”
The man disappeared into one of the houses and brought out what resembled a long lute with a bulbous resonator. It had so many strings, including several that did not seem reachable by the player. Hardeep received it in two hands.
Beaming, he started picking at the strings. The sitar whined in high-pitched shifts, with the lower strings echoing the main refrain with harmonic resonance. Some of the other men began beating on the table with their hands as the pace picked up, bobbing their heads to the rhythm.
Upbeat, the song spoke to Kaiya’s soul, and it was all she could do to keep from standing and dancing.
“The drumming refrain is called a tala,” one woman told her.
Blue eyes locked on hers, Hardeep began to sing. His low voice, rich like the chai, sent Kaiya’s belly fluttering in a storm of butterflies.
Ankira, my home.
Land of rich soil and verdant valleys,
Home of the gods on earth.
Warmth of the heart
My heart yearns for my homeland.
The others joined in, their voices rising as one. The resonance surged inside of her, coiling just as it had in the Hall of Pure Melody. Prince Hardeep flashed a smile, beckoning her to join in.
She dropped her gaze to the street, shaking her head. The sentiment, she understood, and yet, it was her country that helped oppress his. How could she let her voice meld with theirs?
Their song came to a slow, melancholy end, and the sitar trailed off into a somber hum. These people missed their homeland, wanted to return, wanted to be free.
Hardeep sighed. “It is getting late. We must get you back before anyone realizes you are gone.”
The power of music, flourishing in her as the Ankirans had sung, still spiraled throughout her core. It tingled in her fingers and toes, and she aligned her body. “No. Let’s test the lute.”
“No,” Hardeep said. “No, I have already caused you too much trouble.”
“I want to. For you. For your people.” She studied her feet. “For myself.”
His eyes searched hers, rocking back and forth in mesmerizing sweeps. “Are you sure? Please, don’t feel obligated just because a bunch of old men sang for you.”
She nodded with heartfelt passion. “Yes. Yes. It is in my power to do so, and I shall.”
Prince Hardeep looked from her to his people. “Her voice holds the key to our salvation!”
The men and women broke into a cheer, a genuine appreciation that no one in the court had ever shown her.
Beaming, Hardeep took her hand. “Let’s go. Somewhere acoustically perfect.”
Heat mingling into the echo of the song, she rose. Thanks to the trip to the archives, she knew just the place. “The Temple of Heaven.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?
Was she? To enter the sacred grounds without a blessing from its priests invited a death sentence. She searched his eyes again.
Yes. Better to die than to give up on the magic of Dragon Songs when she was so close. She nodded.
The Ankirans all pressed their hands together and bowed their heads as Hardeep led her down a street. Headed south, according to Caiyue’s position.
After a few blocks, he stopped. His head swept from left to right and back, pausing at an empty wooden produce stand outside a shuttered green grocer.
“What is it?” Hand on her dagger, she peered through the dark at the stand.
He pulled her closer. “Our friends from before. They must have tracked us back here.” He stomped a foot on the street, sending vibrations rippling out. After a second, he said, “Only two this time, one behind the stand, and one there.” He twisted behind her and swept a sword out of its scabbard. Wood shattered with a loud crack.
He spun around to her front. Metal clinked against sword, and then clattered on the ground. The dark outline was shaped like a star. She squatted down to pick it up. Pain bit into her fingers as a sharp edge cut her.
“Stay down,” Hardeep said. His blade whizzed, again cutting projectiles out of the air with clanks and thuds. As he moved, the silk bag containing the Dragon Scale Lute slipped from his shoulders. It hit the ground with a discordant groan, like the keen of a murderous beast in its death throes.
The villains stared at the bag, wide-eyed.
Fear crawled up Kaiya’s spine. She shuddered at the sound. Though if it did that to her, if it scared a dragon away, maybe… She reached for the bag and fumbled with the drawstrings. Pain bit where the star had cut her thumb. Still, she managed to fish the lute out.
She rose from her low squat to a level horse stance, similar to the one Doctor Wu taught for breathing exercises. Spine straight, thighs parallel to the ground, she cradled the lute and plucked one of the treble strings.
A sound like a widow mourning her dead husband wailed from the lute, twisting in her core and then resonating into her limbs. Unlike her first attempt, it was louder. The barrage of attacks stopped and the two large men in the shadows lowered their weapons.
Kaiya strummed across all the strings. The dissonance of high and low pitches must have sounded like the chorus of souls tormented by Yanluo in the pits of hell. The would-be assassins dropped their weapons. One’s crossbow crashed onto the pavestones, sending a loaded bolt soaring toward them.
With a low mutter, Hardeep jerked back, his hip jarring into her head and knocking her back.
Pain flared in her temples and white flashed in her field of vision. Just when the alcohol had begun to clear. She blinked away the cobwebs.
Hardeep knelt beside her, his brows furrowed. “Are you all right?”
Was she? Her head ached, her thumb stung. Her chest hurt from the lute’s echo in her heart. She gawked at the thin line of blood on her thumb.
Tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt, he wrapped the wound. Tight and firm. He helped her to her feet with a chuckle. “You must be lucky, to survive two attacks with just a small cut on your thumb.”
It didn’t seem lucky, nor a laughing matter. She pouted.
His smile flattened. He turned to the side and pointed. “We are here.”
Already? And where had their attackers gone? She looked at him, and then followed his gesture. An eight-tiered stupa, its colors indistinct in the night, towered above white stone walls. Two soldiers in ceremonial robes and breastplates flanked the metal gates.
There was only one place in Huajing like this: the Temple of Heaven, which housed a chunk from a fallen star, brought to Hua by the Wang Dynasty Founder at the bidding of the gods. And if the story from the geomancy book was true, it was built over the spot where the elf angel Aralas revealed himself to Yanyan, the mother of musical magic.
