by JC Kang
Kaiya searched his expression. His roundabout responses suggested Father hadn’t promised her hand. No, General Lu was baiting her. She tilted her head, intentionally exposing the side of her neck, and covered a contrived giggle. “The secrets of a woman’s heart could not be uncovered by even the fabled Moquan, let alone the Tianzi’s spies.”
He snorted. “Probably because the Moquan are too busy kidnapping naughty children. In any case, the Tianzi said he would be amenable to a union of our families. I humbly request that you take the proposal into consideration.”
She dipped her chin. “I am honored by your attention,” now on her breasts again, “and I will consider it.”
Considered and denied. Though if Father had said amenable, perhaps she no longer had the choice. It might very well be a done deal.
Her reply letter to Prince Hardeep could wait. First, she’d visit Father to discern his intentions.
Sitting on the bloodwood chair in Sun-Moon Castle’s Jasmine Room, Tai-Ming Lord Peng Kai-Long poured another cup of tea for the Tianzi. Imperial guards stood by the sliding doors, which opened out on a terrace overlooking Sun-Moon Lake. Annoying bird chirps twittered in on a warm breeze, which presaged an early spring. A historically monumental spring, if his plans went well.
Hand trembling, the Tianzi reached for the kettle. “Nephew, please drink.”
Kai-Long shook his head. Using the formal address, he said, “Huang-Shang, I wouldn’t dare. This tea is reserved only for the Imperial Family.”
“No need to stand on ceremony.” The Tianzi’s laugh devolved into a coughing fit. “You are my sister’s son and grew up with my children.”
Which gave him a close-up view of their incompetence. Kai-Long bowed. “I am of your blood, but I do not belong to the Wang line.”
“It would be a shame if you never tasted the imperial tea.”
Kai-Long suppressed a smirk. At the end of spring, he would. For now, though: “In this, I must refuse your invitation.”
“And if I command it?” Phlegm rattled in the Tianzi’s throat.
Kai-Long withdrew his curved dagger. Hand on their dao swords, the imperial guards strode forward, only to freeze and melt back when he set the blade on the table. He lowered his head again. “If you give such a command, Huang-Shang, I will cut my own throat.”
“My most loyal vassal.” The Tianzi’s laugh came out as a labored wheeze. He was only the husk of a once-great man, and wouldn’t last much longer. Perhaps no more than a year, even if Kai-Long didn’t arrange for an earlier death.
A good thing, too, since Hua grew weaker by the day under his increasingly timid leadership. Once Kai-Long ascended the Dragon Throne, he would strengthen the nation through economic and military reform, just as he had his own province. Just as the Tianzi had done a generation ago, before age and sickness sapped his vitality.
The door slid open, revealing a kneeling minister. “Huang-Shang, Princess Kaiya requests an audience with you.” He pressed his forehead to the ground, revealing the princess, who knelt behind him.
“Enter,” the Tianzi said.
Cousin Kaiya rose with the grace of a weeping cherry and glided into the room. How elegant she’d become. And beautiful, too. Just two years ago, she’d been woefully plain and flat, though that had done little to stem the tide of ambitious suitors. Her gaze met his and a smile quirked across her lips for a split second before her attention shifted to the Tianzi. She sank to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor. “Huang-Shang.”
“Rise, my daughter.”
She straightened. “Huang-Shang, I met with General Lu. He informed me that you are amenable to a marriage between our families.”
Kai-Long hid his shock. Her tone was too neutral, with no hint of defiance. Perhaps she’d grown used to the magic in the letters she believed came from Prince Hardeep. And the Tianzi was amenable. That might as well have been order.
The Tianzi locked his gaze on Kaiya. “Your brothers have yet to conceive an heir. I would rest assured knowing your future son would be third in line to the Dragon Throne.”
Third in line—the position Kai-Long currently occupied based on the patrilineal laws of succession. He kept his face impassive. After all...
“You have one month to choose an appropriate suitor,” the Tianzi said. “Otherwise, you will marry General Lu.”
Kaiya’s lips trembled for a split second. Then her eyes darted to all the guards, and her expression settled. She bowed. “As you command, Father.”
One week. Her obedience to Uncle trumped even the magic of the fake letters. All the plans Kai-Long had set in motion two years prior might crumble around him. If he couldn’t keep Kaiya from marrying, he’d have to get rid of her for good.
And with his foresight, he had a plan in place to accomplish that.
CHAPTER 3
Challenges
Kaiya stared blankly out one of the solarium’s dozen windows, distracted by thoughts of Father’s ultimatum and Prince Hardeep’s recent note. With Cousin Kai-Long’s help, they’d secretly exchanged letters for a year. Their relationship had matured through their correspondence, and at eighteen, she now realized how idealistic and lovesick she’d been as a sixteen-year-old. Now, it would never be. Not unless she found a way to make it happen.
“Dian-xia!” Doctor Wu’s voice rattled her out of her thoughts.
Kaiya blinked, her focus shifting to the grey-robed woman. Nobody knew Doctor Wu’s age, though some speculated the Master of the Dao had discovered the secret to immortality.
Pulled up into a tight, austere coil, her long silver hair had a faint bluish tinge to it, perhaps reflected from her eyes when the light hit it just right.
Those eyes, unlike any other Hua woman. Luminescent blue, like the pale blue moon Guanyin’s Eye itself. Their depth and serenity evoked a soothing calm rivaling Sun-Moon Lake on the clearest of days.
Kaiya probably deserved the reprimand for daydreaming. She bowed her head, contrite.
“Recite what I just said,” Dr. Wu said.
Kaiya twirled a lock of her hair. What had she said? Something about the Tivari, who had enslaved humans for millennia until the War of Ancient Gods a thousand years ago. “Altivorcs and tivorcs have an extra energy point on their Conception Meridian, between... between...”
Doctor Wu poked two points on Kaiya’s belly. “Between these acupuncture points, Juque and Shangwan. What happens if it is blocked?”
Why did it matter? The Tivari were now little more than disorganized bands of mercenaries that Kaiya would probably never see. She shook her head.
“Nausea. Vomiting. Headaches.” Doctor Wu’s tone remained calm, devoid of accusation. “You are more distracted than usual. Your thoughts are scattered, unfocused. You will meditate.”
And by meditation, Doctor Wu meant standing in an unladylike stance and staring out the window. They’d done it so many times in the last decade. Kaiya obediently rose and strode over to the spot facing east out the latticed windows toward Jade Mountain.
“Now, focus on your breathing, anchor yourself with the energies of Mother Earth.”
The same words, as always. Kaiya sank into a deep horse stance, thighs parallel to the ground, spine straight and gaze locked forward on the snow-capped peak. As ugly as the posture was, the stance had helped her channel magic of Dragon Songs.
“Still not right after all these years.” Doctor Wu furrowed a brow. With a nudge of a hand, she lifted Kaiya’s chin to further straighten her back. Her voice softened. “Now breathe. In through the nose, letting your stomach expand; out through your mouth, pushing your stomach in.”
Kaiya could have quoted the words verbatim.
Doctor Wu afforded her a cursory glance. “Good. Now visualize your weight sinking deeper and deeper into Mother Earth as you exhale. Draw her life-giving energy through the Yongquan points in your feet as you inhale and bring them to your Dantian below your navel.”
Slowing her breath, Kaiya settled her mind. H
er toes gripped the stone floor through her shoe soles. Thoughts of marriage and foreign princes melted away as the resolute vibration of the earth filled her.
A snort came from the right, just outside Kaiya’s peripheral vision. “My dear doctor, shouldn’t the princess be nurturing musical talents instead of playing with energy fields?”
The voice and flippant tone could only belong to the elf, Lord Xu.
Kaiya kept her attention forward. Turning around would invite a rebuke from Dr. Wu.
Xu walked around and faced her, blocking the view of the mountain. His glossy gold hair sparkled in the sun. It’d been two years since he’d last appeared, yet his fine, ageless features remained the same. Youthful, even if his eyes glinted with wisdom.
And perhaps, mischief.
Concentration broken, thoughts of Hardeep’s written words flooded back. And it wouldn’t do to let the elf see her in such a crude pose. She straightened and bobbed her head in a show of respect.
He didn’t return the salute and looked her directly in her eyes. “After all,” he said, “she has shown some potential to manifest magic in her music.”
“Perhaps you should teach her,” Doctor Wu said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Just as Aralas taught his Hua lover Yanyan. Princess Kaiya will be singing dragons to sleep in no time.”
Xu laughed, his tone mocking. “Aralas was Elestrae, an elf angel sent by the Sun God Koralas. She was—”
“He,” Doctor Wu said.
“Yes. He was master of all magic and none like him have walked Tivaralan since.”
Doctor Wu scoffed. “Then if you can’t do it, you must trust me to teach her to connect with the energy of Mother Earth. Just because the elves did not teach humans about the Dao does not mean it’s useless.”
Kaiya’s eyes shifted between doctor and elf. The barbs they stabbed into each other sure sounded mirthful, but who knew? Xu seemed affable enough, but he was still a high lord and could order Doctor Wu’s execution for her impudence.
“But she is a busy girl,” Xu said, “and I would think her time would be better spent fusing magic into her music.”
“What is magic, but a link to the energy of Mother Earth?” Doctor Wu’s tone sounded like a verbal jab to the elf’s ribs.
Xu scoffed. “Nonsense.”
The doctor flashed a playful grin. “A wager then, my Lord. Show us something you think is beyond our princess’ musical abilities, and if she cannot replicate it, I will give you one herb from my collection of rare tonics. But if she does, you will acquiesce to one of my requests.”
Both their eyes turned to her, all but forgotten until now. The argument over her training had been mundane enough until this challenge. How could she possibly compare to the powerful Lord Xu? “But Master, my skills are trifling com—”
Doctor Wu silenced her with a hand. “You recently held an entire audience enthralled by your guzheng zither performance. What is the connection between performer and audience, if not a manifestation of energy?”
Kaiya shook her head. “You should not gamble on something beyond my small abilities.”
The old woman winked. “Lord Xu will be kind with his challenge, and I won’t ask for something like a Starburst when you win.”
“A Starburst?” Kaiya gaped incredulously. Though if anyone had one of those mythical relics from when elves and orcs battled for supremacy over Tivara, it would be Xu.
Lord Xu laughed. “Shall I ask her to invoke another Hellstorm? Or the Wrath of Koralas?”
With a grandmotherly grin, Doctor Wu rubbed her hands together. “Lord Xu is having delusions of grandeur. Does he think he is the equal of Archangel Aralas?”
Kaiya’s mind swam. Everyone else spoke in awe of the devastating magic that’d obliterated a mountain and ripped a new sea in the continent. Lord Xu referenced it with the same nonchalance as the as he’d flippantly mentioned the genocidal vengeance of the elvish sun god--magic that was never invoked during the War of Ancient Gods. Meanwhile, her teacher bandied about the name of the elf hero from that conflict as if he were a dear acquaintance.
Doctor Wu offered her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Easy, Dian-xia. This is just idle banter among old friends.”
“Old friends, indeed.” Lord Xu snickered. “As long as we understand the stakes, I will keep my challenge simple.” He beckoned the imperial guards Chen Xin and Ma Jun, conveniently tucked away in the background. “You two, over here.”
Neither so much as flinched, their attention set forward.
Kaiya covered a laugh. “If that is all, then it is quite easy. Chen Xin, Ma Jun, please come.”
The two guards dropped onto a one-knee bow, fist to the ground. “As the princess commands,” they shouted. They stood up and marched over in unison.
Chen Xin eyed Xu. “Do you wish us to remove the lord?”
Unsurprisingly, Lord Xu ignored the threat and sang in the musical words of elf magic. The melody might have been a chorus of angels. Her heart soared.
At the end of the five-second chant, Chen Xin and Ma Jun both started sniffling. Blinking, their lips twitched in a futile attempt to contain emotion. Within seconds, both sobbed uncontrollably.
Lord Xu turned toward the doctor with a smug expression. “Can your breathing exercises accomplish something like that?”
“Dian-xia,” Doctor Wu said, “make them stop. Use your flute.”
How did one stop magically-induced crying? Kaiya withdrew a four-inch dizi flute from the folds of her robes. Playing a joyous tune, she looked up.
Her guards still sobbed. Uncertainties grew. Her melody wavered.
“Focus,” the doctor said. “The nature of grief is metal, which cloys the Lungs. It can be tempered by the fire of the heart.”
Heart. Fire. High stances and erratic tones. Kaiya nodded, shifting in her stance and letting her weight sit lightly over her toes. She shook her hair out, sending the precious gold, silver and jade clips and pins jingling to the ground. Her music became more volatile and whimsical as she drew her breath from her heart.
Ma Jun and Chen Xin’s crying came to an abrupt stop. They organized their expressions into their typical stoicism.
Lord Xu clapped. “Nicely done, Dian-xia. I concede there is something to what the doctor says. Had you not broken my spell, they would have continued blubbering until I released them or they died of starvation. Perhaps you can move beyond parlor tricks and actually replicate the exploits of your musicians from the War of Ancient Gods.”
Kaiya’s heart fluttered. She might have grown in the lost art of magical music, but “Stopping men from crying is trivial compared to singing the Last Dragon to sleep.”
“Do you think Yanyan’s first feat was confronting Avarax?” He favored her with a raised eyebrow. “And yet when she did, he slept for seven hundred years, setting the stage for humans’ ascendance after overthrowing the orcs.”
Kaiya cocked her head. Avarax had only woken three decades before. Surely the powerful Lord Xu could do simple math. “But Avarax slept for a thousand years.”
Doctor Wu scowled at Lord Xu, and then laughed. “Dian-xia, Lord Xu has lost his edge in his old age.”
“Yes, I was thinking of the Hellstorm. To think, not even a rain of fire roused him.”
Doctor Wu poked him in the ribs. “In any case, my Lord, you lost your wager.”
“Indeed, I did. Since I gave the princess an easy task, I hope your demand is of commensurate value.”
Easy? Kaiya shuffled on her feet.
Doctor Wu chuckled. “Am I anything but fair, my Lord? I ask that you teach the princess The Ear that Sees.”
Kaiya snorted. A fictitious technique from martial arts novels, Seeing Ears allowed boogeymen spies to fight in the dark. The stories might be fit for entertainment or scaring little children, but not much else. “I don’t see how that will help my music.”
The elf chuckled. “In the beginning stages, The Ear that Sees is simply a means of separating all sounds f
rom each other.” He nodded at the doctor. “Perhaps it is not such a bad idea. I’ve always implored this girl to listen.”
Kaiya fiddled with a lock of hair. What was the use of such a skill? But Doctor Wu had recommended it, so... “Very well. With the Tai-Ming Council and reception tomorrow, this lesson will have to wait for a few days.”
“Alas, I will be returning to Haikou before the reception,” Lord Xu said. “But, the fundamentals are quite simple, won’t you try now?”
Kaiya looked out of a south-facing window. The iridescent moon Caiyue waned to its Fourth Crescent. “The Crown Princess is expecting me in an hour...”
Lord Xu laughed. “More than enough time, then. Send your guards out.”
When Chen Xin and Ma Jun left the room and took up places outside of the doors as Kaiya commanded, she searched Lord Xu’s eyes.
What would she learn this time? His lesson on the castle wall two years before had opened her ears to the possibilities. She’d since surpassed all her teachers and was now considered one of the best musicians in Hua. No one else could evoke magic through sound.
And here Xu was again, suddenly interested in her development, after not so much as mentioning music since.
He opened his hand and spoke a melodious word of elven magic.
Kaiya gasped as a long musical instrument appeared in his hand. The sanxian was ancient by the look of it, perhaps magical. An unknown animal skin stretched over the round resonator. Three strings ran over the fretless wooden neck.
“This belonged to your ancestor,” he said with a wistful tone, “Queen Yuxiang, the consort of the founder of the Wang Dynasty, and later Regent.” His fingers danced over the strings, the short melody a flittering combination of short pentatonic notes, ending with a long note. “She adored the sound of it, brought it from her home on Jade Island. It is my gift to you.” He held it out.
Kaiya hesitated before reverently taking the priceless artifact in her hands. It was light, the resonator rough and the neck smooth. Unlike the Dragon Scale Lute or Yanyan’s pipa, it didn’t seem to pulse with a life of its own. “I do not know how to play this.”
