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

by Vivienne Savage

  “Who then? Who is helping him?”

  You know who. You must stop…them… You must…break…the chain. The goddess’s fading voice vanished entirely, the dragon once more still as stone. Somehow the cavern felt cooler.

  “We should return to the elders,” Cheng said softly. “Surely they will know more.”

  Mulan sheathed the goddess-blessed blade. As quickly as the armor had appeared, it was gone and the dress remained. “Yes, let’s go find more answers.”

  Heavy rainfall delayed Cheng and Mulan’s departure from the little island on the lake. It came in sideways and created a silver veil the monks claimed would only unnecessarily endanger their health. So they waited, sipping tea and enjoying a final hot meal together in the early hours of the morning before sunrise.

  Mulan would never take that moment for granted again, enjoying the sight of Cheng in fine silver robes, looking every bit the regal emperor, as he stood beside a window with the rainfall behind him.

  After the storm passed into the east, Mulan set out on foot again. The imposter monks remained in their enchanted sleep. For now, they weren’t a danger.

  There is nothing that we can do, but to believe in the power of Anastasia’s enchantment.

  “If only they could sleep for a hundred years,” Mulan said, sighing.

  The monks provided her with a boat, a small vessel only large enough to carry four passengers. Rowing alone was an easy task once she got the hang of handling the single, long sculling oar, and when she tired, she rested beneath the woven bamboo shelter and let the slight current do the work for her.

  By the time Cheng appeared at sunset, she had anchored the craft and set out a humble meal of bread, pickled vegetables, and cold roast duck the monks had given them.

  “We’re making good time,” she told him. “Much faster this way than on foot.”

  Cheng took command of the oars, practically prying them from her fingers. “You should rest.”

  “It’s no trouble, I—”

  “Have a human body that has been awake since long before dawn. Please, Mulan. Rest.”

  Sleep didn’t come easily in the small boat with their limited supplies. She napped on and off, snatching moments of rest here or there and always awakening to find Cheng skygazing or expediting their travel when the current turned lazy.

  Occasionally, they passed a midnight fisherman or two on the banks, capturing the nocturnal carp that emerged after dark and swarmed on the river surface. The men always waved.

  They must have looked like a young couple out for a romantic boat ride.

  “How many days will it take, do you think?” she asked when she could no longer sleep.

  “Even on the river it would take a week to reach the palace.”

  She sighed softly and rolled onto her back, trying to find a comfortable spot. “It seems so long. I never truly realized how vast Liang was until I set out to join the army. They gave us so little time to travel the distance. And then, from there to the northern border camp, weeks of marching. I’ll never forget it.”

  “Yet you have seen so little of the kingdom.”

  “More than most now, I wager.” She laughed softly, but the mirth faded swiftly. “It will all be destroyed by war, won’t it?”

  “Only if he wins, which he won’t.”

  “What if the blood witches of Dobravia come to his aid?”

  Cheng paused. After a slow inhale, he forced a fragile smile. “Then we will fight them all, Mulan.”

  A silence grew between them as Cheng lowered the oars across his lap and leaned back, weight supported on his elbows. The moonlight cast a fair glow across his skin, highlighting the best of his features. She followed his nose and took in his full lips, vexed by how much she wanted to kiss them.

  “Do you want me to take over?”

  “No.” He waved her off lazily. “The current has us now. I believe tomorrow you should find an inn. Conserve your strength.”

  “You should do the same. I’m fine.”

  No longer tired, she sat up and joined him at the stern. Sunrise was not far off, she guessed by the position of the moons. A couple more hours at most.

  “You will need your strength as well. I have not seen the gate on this side, but I witnessed the destructive power of the one I helped to build. I still have no idea how we will destroy it.”

  “Everything breaks.”

  He seemed so calm. So confident.

  It irritated her.

  “We have only a few days to make a plan.”

  “I’ll tear it down with my own claws if I must.”

  “How?” she insisted.

  “A dragon’s breath is magic itself. Only magic can unravel magic.”

  “King Alistair tried.”

  “He doesn’t have the gift of Yüying.”

  “You haven’t even been able to assume your dragon form.”

  Cheng’s jaw tightened with a hint of irritation. “You doubt me?”

  “It is not about doubting you,” she argued. “But if you can’t take your dragon form, then what do we do? Besides that, if you do manage, then he will know. There will be no hiding that you have partially broken the curse and are living again. “

  “There is no other way.” The tension showed in his face, and she knew without a doubt she’d wounded his pride. But more was at stake than his ego. “I must. I feel…renewed since our visit to Yüying’s temple and stronger than I did before.” He raised a hand and summoned a small flame to his fingertips, the jade glow illuminating the water’s surface and his handsome features.

  His eyes were brighter than she remembered, the green ring surrounding his brown irises lit with power.

  “Renewed does not mean restored,” she said, gentler in tone this time. “All I ask is that you rest as well. Help me plan. If this goes wrong, more is at stake than just our lives. More than a border war.”

  She sighed and forced herself to glance away from his handsome face before she was caught staring. He was an emperor, she reminded herself, and she, only a subject. Her task was to return him to his rightful place on the throne.

  “I will find an inn as you ask,” she finally said. “We could both use a hot meal and a hot bath. Tokaia should be within our reach tomorrow.”

  14

  “This is ridiculous,” Cheng growled as Mulan led him toward the sound of a bustling city located near the water.

  Tokaia had been a little village centuries ago, located less than one hundred miles northwest of the Imperial City. Cheng had donned his best clothing prior to abandoning the boat on the shoreline, and they hiked an hour to the gates. The story she had created was simple enough—they were a newly married couple traveling to the capital to celebrate their union in style. As much as it pleased him to know the tradition had endured over the centuries, he loathed pretending to be a blind man. Irritable, he lifted the blindfold, only for Mulan to rap his knuckles.

  “Ow!”

  “You’ll ruin it,” she chided him.

  “I cannot see.”

  “That is the point. Your eyes are too noticeable now and if you could see through the cloth you would not make a convincing blind man.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “It will keep us both safe. Now stop fussing.”

  He growled softly but gave in to her direction. He hated not knowing where he was going and who was around them. Who watched. He heard children playing to his left, and a fishwife berating her husband somewhere behind them. Without his sight, his other senses kicked in, bringing a miasma of mixed scents to his nose.

  “Here’s the inn. Mind the steps. There are four,” she warned in a kinder voice.

  “Oh, what a sweet dear!” an older woman declared. “Let me get that door for both of you.” Quick steps hurried over wood and then a screen door slid.

  They left behind the humid warmth of the city night and entered a space fragrant from polished wood and citrus oils.

  “Are you both hoping to stay the
night?” the same elderly woman asked.

  “Yes, if you have the space for us. My husband and I seek a room with a bath.”

  “Long travels?”

  “Yes, from Inishan,” Mulan replied easily, naming a western town. Cheng had enough of his father’s looks for the story to be believable.

  “Oh, you poor dears. Lucky for you, I have such a room. Follow me.”

  Cheng allowed Mulan to lead him through the establishment, grateful they encountered no stairs. Another door slid open and he could tell by the light that the room had lots of windows. Fresh air blew in.

  “Will this suit you both?”

  “I am certain it is fine,” Cheng said before Mulan could say anything in his stead. “Thank you, good lady.”

  “Dinner has already been served, but I can bring a meal to you if you like.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Mulan said.

  Once the woman was gone and the door had shut behind her, Cheng removed the blindfold and tossed it onto a low table. “We must leave before sunrise, otherwise she will wonder how your blind husband vanished into the city without you.”

  “That much is true, but tonight, I’m going to take a bath in steaming water. There’s actual plumbing in this city.”

  “What is plumbing?”

  “Prepare to be amazed, Cheng. The world has changed in many ways.”

  Mulan hadn’t exaggerated. He watched steaming water fill the tub from a copper pipe, marveling at the ease and simplicity of it all. She filled the oversized tub in a fraction of the time it would have taken servants to carry in buckets, let alone heat them. When he asked how it was done, Mulan only laughed and said she wasn't exactly sure of the specifics, only that it worked without magic. She waited until after their food arrived before she shooed him aside and went to bathe. He sat at the table alone, listening to the water swish around each time she moved.

  “I almost wish we could linger here a second night," she called from behind the partition. “This is wonderful.”

  “The food is good as well,” he agreed, searching for anything to say. Knowing she was feet away, undressed, distracted him to no end.

  Would it be so awful to remain for another day?

  Yes. The empire needed him, and delaying for personal comforts was not the act of a ruler, but that of a selfish child. Still, they had needed the evening to prepare for the inevitable, to plan, and to allow Mulan ample time to rest. He'd seen the stiffness in her stride as they approached the city. Her body was weary, exhausted, and in the days ahead, they would both need to be at their best.

  He needed to be at his best.

  He needed to draw the power within him to become the great dragon emperor Liang deserved now that countless innocents in Cairn Ocland also depended on him tearing down the magical gate.

  “Perhaps you are right in that we should stay,” he said after considering the option a few moments more. “I feel my strength returning, but you were right, I am…not at my best.” It was hard to make the admission, and by the way Mulan went silent—not even swishing the water—she realized it as well.

  “A few days won't hurt," she agreed after the brief pause. “We’ll both be better after a proper rest and perhaps we can gain some information about the camp. The city is close enough that soldiers will visit from time to time, and surely the locals have seen the gate. Something that large cannot be hidden.”

  “Anyone who fishes along the river will have seen it, unless the soldiers closed the boatways. It's always possible.”

  “Something we can discover if I venture into the city after sunrise.”

  “How will we excuse my absence?” Cheng asked.

  “You are resting and preferred to remain indoors. The journey wasn’t kind to you, my poor blind husband.” A quiet laugh reached him, gentle as a spring breeze.

  He scowled. “You make me sound weak.”

  “We both know you are not,” she countered breezily.

  “They will think you married an inept fool.”

  “Then they are the fools because only my thoughts and heart matter.”

  Cheng quieted. Vexing seconds passed as he stared at the rice paper partition, almost wishing he could will it to fold aside and reveal the treasure beyond. He imagined her in the deep basin, radiant and golden from her time fighting under the sun. His mind drifted to those hazy days when he’d sat atop her altar.

  “And what does your heart say?” he dared to ask, wetting his mouth with sake first. “What are my wife's thoughts regarding her invalid husband?”

  Why did he care? It was only a ruse, a disguise, a story they'd made up along the way from the river that ultimately didn't matter.

  “That he is a hero, blinded in battle, but not without other admirable skills.”

  “And does he not bring shame upon you?”

  “Why would he? He is an honorable man. A kind man. He may be at a disadvantage in some ways, but that does not define who he is, nor does it make him unlovable.”

  The lies he told himself. It wasn't a ruse or a costume. Each word and targeted praise bore a double meaning, more applicable to Cheng than Gang-fu the Blind. “Don’t you feel imposed upon to guide this disadvantaged husband? Certainly there are men more worthy of so good and kind a wife as you.” He poured another glass of sake, rinsing the sour taste of helplessness from his mouth.

  Gods, he wanted to help her during their journey. Time after time he’d watched her fight and offered little more than the occasional support of a shield to guard her back. The collar continued to sap his power, leeching his strength almost as quickly as it was returned to him. Through it, he was bound to his uncle.

  To his oppressor.

  To the traitor of Liang.

  Cheng wondered what the Dobravians had offered for his loyalty.

  Water gurgled as Mulan released the tub stopper, jerking Cheng’s attention from his musings.

  “I have never felt any imposition, only…regret for my part in helping those who hurt him.”

  She stepped around the partition, wrapped in a thick robe of soft cotton embroidered with golden and plum-colored blossoms. Her dragon pin secured her damp hair in a loose bun.

  Mulan took his breath away, every time.

  “Anyone who would speak poorly of him for staying in during the busy days doesn’t know his true value and worth. But I do.”

  Of course Cheng hadn’t answered.

  The whole time he showered then soaked in the tub, Mulan couldn’t help but ruefully debate her final words to him. Occasionally, she stared at the partition and debated its necessity when they had already become intimately aware of one another’s naked bodies in every way but one. She’d seen him emerge from his cursed statuette form numerous times, each evening more gorgeous than the last, his body leanly muscled, the ideal example of masculinity.

  Flustered, she sipped her sake and paced the other side of the room where the single marital bed awaited them, one wide enough for a couple, but scarcely large enough for two beings without a desire to sleep with their legs entangled. She knelt down and ran her fingers over the fine linen covering the mattress. It smelled cool and fragrant, perfumed with lotus.

  Mulan planned to insist Cheng share the bed with her, knowing he was likely to volunteer to sleep on the floor using their bedrolls. The entire point of risking a stay in town was so they could both get adequate rest, which meant they needed comfort. Surely they could sleep side by side.

  She almost laughed then, thoughts drifting back to that first night in her tent when he’d given her the same argument about sharing the bed. Except then, he had only been a magically restored emperor, a noble stranger, and not a man she’d come to admire, care for, and desire.

  “Cheng?” she called when all fell silent for too long.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Cheng?”

  Fearing the unpredictable magic fueling the curse had reduced him to statuette form hours ahead, Mulan rose and approached the screen. Her breath
shuddered in her chest, and panic clawed into her throat, constricting her airway to pin-hole width.

  “Cheng?” she whispered again.

  Her worst fears did not come to light. Instead of a sunken jade dragon at the bottom of the pool, she found him sleeping soundly with his head tilted back and his eyes shut. His powerful chest rose and fell, every chiseled muscle from his waist to his broad shoulders exposed above water in which petals floated on shimmering bath oils.

  All she could do was admire him. For the first time in so long since they were bound together, she drank in the sight of him.

  As much as she enjoyed the view, letting him slip into a watery grave wasn't an option either. Taking a careful perch on the edge of the tub, she brushed his damp hair off his forehead. “Cheng, wake up.” He didn't stir at her gentle prompting. Amused and vexed in equal measure, she traced her fingers down his cheek and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “It’s time to wake up, husband. You’ll turn into a prune.”

  Cheng muttered something indecipherable under his breath. He shifted, head turning before she realized where his mouth was going, quicker than she could avoid the lips that sought hers and claimed them. His tongue still tasted like sake.

  The emperor’s tongue should not have been in her mouth.

  His hands definitely should not have been tangling in her hair.

  Initially, Mulan didn’t know whether to kiss him in return or tear away. He kissed her lazily, without rushing, as if savoring every moment their mouths moved together in sensual contact.

  Then he froze.

  He started to draw away and her pulse quickened in panic, her initial shock popping to be replaced by fear. The fear that, if she let him apologize now, they’d never have a moment like this again.

  As he parted his lips to speak, she ducked in and reclaimed his lips, the hand that had stroked his cheek sliding to cup the back of his neck. Cheng mirrored her earlier stillness, but only for the span of a heartbeat, and then his hold on her hair tightened and he met her kiss with all the fervor and passion she had dreamed of for so many nights.