Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1)

by Vivienne Savage

  Alistair closed his eyes. A heavy sigh left him. “I thought as much. Such is not the case among our people. We have many warriors, but the history of our kingdom is a bloodthirsty one of lasting war against darker threats than Liang’s alchemists and sorcerers.”

  “I do not recall any threats mentioned beyond Dalborough, but they were a nuisance and little more.”

  “Dalborough grew in power and size over the years since your dethronement,” Alistair said grimly. “They developed lethal machines, many capable of launching projectiles designed to pierce even dragon hide. One such device slew my parents.”

  Anastasia placed a hand upon her husband’s brawny arm. “It’s a long story. If this means peace can exist between our nations, we will gladly share every word.”

  “I want nothing more than peace for my people and an end to the war. Is this war truly over the pixies alone?”

  The king raised his chin, appearing every bit the terrifying dragon in his human form as he had when scaled and soaring over her kingdom. Mulan’s belly clenched, and a viselike grip tightened around her ribs. “It is. They are our most vulnerable citizens.”

  Understanding dawned over Mulan at once. Had she not encountered the bandit party with their ill-gotten goods, she might have thought the royal pair were joking with them. “You consider them people.”

  “We do.”

  “In Liang, they’re viewed as animals. No different from a bird or a butterfly garden.”

  “They are sentient creatures,” Queen Anastasia said firmly. “Those forests were their homes long before our ancestors began clearing them for wood.”

  “I had no idea,” Mulan said. “To my eyes and ears they appeared as glowing bells, much like fireflies.”

  “Few are able to understand them, but that does not diminish their worth,” Teagan explained. “What is worse is that they are of finite number. A pixie is only born from a child’s first laugh.”

  “They can’t breed?”

  “No.” Anastasia’s solemn smile weakened. “What we are given by the gods are all that we shall have, their number never increasing unless we ourselves reproduce in greater number.”

  “And while you do that, my people hunt them. Gods, I never knew. I would have—”

  “You did,” Teagan said gently. “Liadh and I looked forward to your visit. We planned to walk with you through the Forest of Melodies to introduce you to the pixies. When you didn’t arrive, we thought perhaps you had a change of heart. We wrote more letters. Our birds returned. Eventually, an accusation came to us from Da-Wio claiming we had assassinated his nephew.”

  “No. He handled that matter himself.”

  Mulan listened to Cheng’s retelling of his final memories in the Jade Palace, of his plans to visit Witch-Queen Liadh, his uncle’s opposition to the accord, and what he recalled of the treachery that followed.

  “Disgusting,” Alistair growled. “That a man would do this to his own flesh and blood.”

  “A child he raised,” Teagan said, horrified. “Your mother’s spirit must rest uneasily. She and I met only once, but we marveled over the majesty of one another’s land. We traded and held each other in great respect. It was her father who ceded the forest to our kingdom in exchange for a blessing from our great faerie.”

  “Such were the stories my mother told me as a child,” Cheng said softly, the sorrow in his voice slicing through Mulan’s heart sharper than a physician’s scalpel. “I may not remember meeting you, Princess Teagan, but I recall my mother’s love for your brother and his wife.”

  “Then let us work together to see that Da-Wio’s plan fails in the end.”

  11

  While the king and queen met with the leaders of the different clans to discuss the recent discoveries, Teagan led them of a tour through the camp. Every step of the way exposed them to curious stares and glances from inquisitive shifters. Over time, she developed a system for differentiating the werefolk from the humans.

  The shapeshifters were dramatically larger, their hair and eye colors unusual and different, a perfect match to their animal halves. They sometimes carried unique features from their other forms while humans, such as longer nails, or teeth that seemed too sharp. The shifters always clustered into groups coded by the colors of their attire, some adorned in silver and blue, others in red and blue, or red and silver, and other combinations. The women wore patterned dresses beneath leather armor and heavy furs. Several sat around a fire sharpening their weapons and mending rough leather.

  “The women fight in your army?” Mulan asked.

  “We do,” Teagan replied. “This is our home; we all fight for it. I understand Liang holds a different view.”

  “We fight at home in the local militias. The Imperial Army forbids women in war.”

  “Well, forgive me for saying so, but I’m grateful. You have enough warriors as it is and if you truly rose to the rank of captain without discovery, you must be a formidable warrior.”

  “She is indeed,” Cheng confirmed.

  Teagan made a quiet sound then gestured to the left. A large tent housed over a dozen men and women lying on cots while healers tended to their wounds and burns. “You can see with your own eyes the destruction being wrought. Etherling and the surrounding forest burns even as we speak. Our griffins create powerful storms that have served us well in this war. Until recently, that was enough to douse even the most powerful blasts from your alchemists. We drench the land and their machines before they’re able to ignite, but…”

  “But what?” Cheng asked.

  “They have a new creation. They blast projectiles into the air, and it rains down as liquid fire that can’t be quenched, no matter the amount of rain.”

  “They call it Phoenix Tears,” Mulan said softly. “There is a powder you can make that will neutralize the components in the flames. I can show you which plants and rocks to process.”

  Teagan breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be of great help. Thank you, Mulan.”

  A small, niggling doubt crept into her mind. By revealing secrets, wasn’t she betraying her country? Wasn’t she going against everything she stood for?

  Cheng touched her arm, as if he somehow sensed her reservations, and one glance at his face strengthened her resolve.

  This was not betraying her kingdom. She was helping to save it.

  They spent a quiet night amidst new allies, surrounded by the low hum of Oclanders conversing. He would have preferred to do more with his evening than stare at canvas, but the Oclander royals had insisted his human companion, who traveled by day, have a night of rest before discussing more.

  He hadn’t disagreed with their assessment of the woman’s dark circles. Sleeping two or three hours per night—though that was a generous estimation—then carrying him by day had placed an unfair burden upon her.

  Cheng lay in his bedroll and gazed at the tent ceiling, ever more attuned to Mulan beside him. Her soft breaths in the close space set his senses ablaze with awareness. He smelled the sweet musk of her feminine skin, almost overpowering in the small space they shared.

  Not once in all of his life had he ever wanted a woman as much as he desired her. Each time he wondered if the feeling was mutual, Mulan behaved to the contrary and dashed his hopes.

  She isn’t a queen. She isn’t even a princess.

  He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. In her sleep, she smiled and broke the illusion of masculinity. She lay upon her back, one arm over her head, body swallowed by her imperial officer’s uniform.

  Do I care?

  Her lips half-parted, then a soft sound, a little gasp of fright escaped her. She twisted in her bedroll and another distressed sound was smothered into the small cushion beneath her head.

  Cheng hadn’t been able to sleep despite Anastasia’s insistence that he rest. Lying there, he wondered at the purpose of resting when he would not be the one crossing great distances each day. He hated that. Loathed that he was useless, a burden she tucked int
o her belongings each day.

  He couldn’t even protect her.

  She doesn’t need my protection.

  Double-edged sword. Even though she didn’t need his help, having the option to come to her aid would be preferred.

  Mulan whimpered again in her sleep and twisted fitfully. Unable to ignore it, Cheng leaned over her and placed his hand on her shoulder. Almost immediately, she quieted.

  “Shh,” he murmured, palm gliding from her shoulder to her back, down and back in soothing circles. When it seemed she’d fallen into a peaceful slumber again, Cheng withdrew his hand.

  Her dark eyes were on him, blearily peering through thick lashes. “Cheng?”

  “You were having a bad dream.”

  “Mm…” Mulan stretched her body beneath the bedroll blanket, then aimed a lazy smile up at him. “So you rubbed my back?”

  Cheng grunted. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Her smile warmed. “Thank you, but shouldn’t you also be sleeping instead of watching over me while I sleep?”

  “I would if I were able. My mind is too active.” Though it would have been nice to sleep and truly dream. “Instead of resting, I think of all that lies before us and the hundreds of thousands relying on our success.”

  “You worry you’ll let them down.”

  “I do,” he admitted. “Despite all of my good intentions, my brief time as Emperor of Liang accomplished nothing.”

  “Brief but remembered for what good you did do. People still mourn your loss.”

  “They mourn a lie.”

  “Through no fault of their own. Generations have been raised believing you were killed by the Oclanders. People feel this war is justified, and that is not their fault. That blame lies with the sitting emperor.”

  “I wish others could be so easily convinced. You truly are a rare woman with many exceptional men under your command, Wen most of all, but…why have you not revealed your truth to him?”

  “Because he’d be obligated to do the right thing and turn me in to our superiors.”

  “Is he not defying orders by hiding me?”

  “He is, and he isn’t. You’re an emperor. The emperor. By protecting you, he is doing his duty. I am not worth the trouble he would get in if he kept my secret. I will not put him in such a position.”

  “You are not worthless.”

  She smiled. “I did not say I was, only that I would not ask him to take the risk. Besides, if I am revealed then they would all suffer as well. Our entire regiment would be dishonored. My unit would be stripped of all recognition gained while I led them, and anyone else in close proximity to me would be disgraced for having failed to see what I am.”

  “So many things are different. So many things to change.”

  “And you will,” Mulan said, her voice growing softer. He watched her eyes drift shut and he smiled, drawing the covers up over her shoulders.

  “I will do everything in my power. I promise,” he whispered.

  The following morning, Wen’s eagle arrived, much to the dismay of many shifters in camp. They watched the bird with wary eyes and tense expressions, as if they expected it to attack at any moment.

  Could she blame them? Her people had, in fact, used birds to drop alchemical potions over enemy troops in the past.

  Taking care to keep her movements easy and unthreatening, she took the small scroll tied to the raptor’s leg and then rewarded him with a bit of dried meat from her pouch. Wen’s message was simple and to the point. They were making good time apart from the main army and would arrive at the imperial camp in a fortnight. Longer if they took their time scouting under her orders. Mulan wrote out a brief reply, insisting they continue as planned and await her arrival.

  “Word from home?” Teagan spoke behind her.

  “From my men,” she replied, carefully tucking the tiny scroll back into the case. The eagle spread its wings and took to the air, vanishing in a few heartbeats. Mulan sighed, hoped she was doing the right thing, and then turned to the dragoness. “They are risking as much as I in this endeavor.”

  “We all risk much in war, but you know that already. Still, it’s heartening to know others support you and your cause. Perhaps peace truly can be found in the end.”

  “I hope so.”

  “As do I.”

  With nothing else to do until the shifters decided on their course of action, Mulan assisted Teagan in camp, taking the opportunity to further learn about her newfound allies. Eventually, upon experiencing the subtle signs that Cheng was about to take on his human shape, she returned to the tent. She ducked inside, set the statuette down on their bed, then returned outside to wait.

  “Good day?” Cheng asked, coming out to stand beside her. He covered a yawn behind one hand.

  “It was productive.”

  “Ah, there you both are. I’ve brought you a change of clothing,” Teagan said as she crossed over, Anastasia a few steps behind her.

  “You want us to wear your clothing?” Mulan stared over the bundle of fabric Teagan pushed into her arms.

  “This is one of my dresses. By wearing this tartan, any Oclander you encounter will know you’re not with the enemy,” Anastasia explained.

  “I don’t wear dresses.” At least, she hadn’t since leaving her home.

  Teagan smiled. “You will today. We have no trousers in this camp small enough to fit you.” The princess glanced at Cheng, who was snickering. “You as well.”

  “What? Wear a dress?” Cheng stood behind her in his matching uniform, arms folded across his chest.

  “No! Well…” Absolute mischief curved Teagan’s mouth before she pulled another garment from the cart and offered it to Cheng. “We’re actually short of trousers in general. Our men don’t tend to wear them.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll have to wear a kilt.”

  Cheng stared at her and shook out the enormous length of fabric, mouth moving a few times as he made a mess of its folds. “How does one even wear this? There are no sleeves. It’s only cloth.”

  As Teagan described the process, Mulan watched Cheng’s expression evolve from bewilderment to something akin to horror. She laughed until tears pricked the corners of her eyes, almost doubling over when the emperor spoke again.

  “You’re joking with me.”

  “Not at all.” The princess’s eyes twinkled with her amusement. “Your Imperial Majesty Cheng the Munificent, the Great Jade Dragon, isn’t shy about his body, is he?”

  Shy about his body? Mulan’s face flushed with the memory of each time she’d been present when the transformation overtook Cheng. That first moment she entered her tent to find him standing bare and exposed from head to toe, the tight muscles of his abdomen rippling. The rest of him every bit the image of masculine perfection. Her entire body heated.

  Cheng glanced at her.

  A werewolf nearby—at least, she had presumed the smallest among the shifters to be the wolves—also paused his activities of passing out rations, nostrils flared.

  Can they read my mind?

  Cheng smiled. “I am not remotely shy, but where are the fastenings? The buttons? How does it stay in place?”

  Mulan did not like that smile. He can’t read minds. That would be preposterous.

  “Conall! C’mere a second, lad. Could you lend us a hand?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  While Cheng discussed Oclander fashion with a werewolf, Mulan gathered what few toiletries she owned and followed Anastasia down to the camp’s bathing hole while Teagan issued the fresh laundry to others throughout camp.

  “Here. I’ll warm the water for you. It’s a bit of work, but it’s worth it to guarantee all of our soldiers have access to as close to a real bath as possible. Hot water is an excellent morale booster when recovering from an injury. Of course, our shapeshifters are typically down no longer than a few days before they’re ready to go out and fight once more.”

  Mulan chuckled. “I noticed that. Y
our people are difficult to put down, I…” She stopped uncertainly. “Is it rude—?”

  “No. Is it unfortunate that our sides are embroiled in war? Yes, but it is not your war, Mulan. Besides”—Ana’s smile widened—“I’m quite proud of how much difficulty we’ve given your army. Feel free to sing our praises more.”

  They approached a small cabin set a short distance from the camp. A crowd of men bathed in the river nearby, bare-assed and shameless. Then a bear the size of a furry mountain charged from the shore and flopped into the water, creating massive waves. Mulan laughed.

  “They’re just like children,” Anastasia said, laughing with her. “Here. We women prefer to bathe in privacy away from the men. All present are not hardened warriors or shifters without modesty. The lads would never wrong us, but they’re quarrelsome and…”

  “They do that.”

  Anastasia chuckled. “Yes. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.” She tapped a crystalline wand against the edge of one wooden tub then spoke words beneath her breath and threw in a fistful of flower petals that hadn’t been in her hand previously. Steam rose from the surface within moments. The most fragrant aroma of blossoms and roses filled the air, a true delight to Mulan’s nose.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Call me if you need anything, and…” Her cheeks dimpled impishly. “Call me Ana. ‘Your Majesty’ is far too formal.”

  Minutes later, Mulan sank down to her throat and let the near-scalding water carry her worries away. For now. It felt wrong to enjoy a bath and listen to the laughter of her supposed enemies when back home her people were fighting for a false cause. Then she reminded herself why they’d risked the journey.

  Trusting the Oclanders and letting her guard down contradicted everything she had been taught in the Imperial Army. But there was something kind and compassionate in Ana’s eyes, even Teagan’s, that bid her to trust them.

  It could be magic. She’s a fae.

  In the next thought, she realized something else. If it was an enchantment, Cheng would notice. He’s every bit as magical as the king and queen.