by M. Lynn
Closer, she needed him closer.
One arm slid up around his neck while the other wound around his back, careful to avoid his tender side. She pulled him against her as she poured every bit of fear and desperation into their connection. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her in place like he thought he’d lose her the moment he let go.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips.
“Shhh,” he responded.
Hua shook her head, pushing him back for some space. She’d never forget the sight of watching him scrub her blood from the floor of her prison cell. “Jian.”
He dipped his head to meet her eyes, the faint light making them shine. “It really is you. I was sure I’d imagined it.”
“The Nagi is resting for tomorrow.”
He backed up, running a hand through his hair. “You will give back control?”
“I have too.” It was the Nagi’s deal with the emperor. And it was also the only chance they had against the Kou.
“Did you mean it?” His voice cracked. “That you… were your words just a night before the battle confession?”
She stepped forward and put a hand on his chest. “I would love you no matter what tomorrow meant.”
That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed, because he pulled her against him, walking back toward the bed.
“Jian,” she whispered.
“I just want to hold you. Can you give me that?” He sat on the edge of the bed. “In a few hours, we will ride to a battle we cannot win. But for now, it’s just you and me and dreams of a future we could have had.”
She cupped his cheek, letting her thumb trace the curve of his lips. Bending down, she fit their mouths together like they’d always been meant to connect. Her kiss was slow as she burned this moment into her memory.
“Our plight seems hopeless now, Jian,” she whispered against his lips. “But that does not mean we give up hope.”
35
Jian
Jian knew the moment Hua left in the early morning. It wasn’t a physical absence right at first, but her breathing changed, her touch grew cold.
After only a few moments, the Nagi slipped from his embrace and left without a backward glance.
He’d refused to say goodbye to Hua when they were together. Goodbyes before a battle would bring bad luck, but it was more than that. He couldn’t imagine never seeing the fierce look in her eyes or the stubborn tilt of her chin again.
But Hua wouldn’t be on that battlefield with him. The Nagi, even after everything, would fight for Piao.
Jian sat on the edge of his bed and hung his head. He didn’t know what Bo had said to the Nagi or how the Nagi had convinced his brother she would obey Piao on the battlefield. Jian couldn’t shake images of Kanyuan or the thought they could be going down the same path.
The difference was Hua.
Somehow, she had kept the Nagi from shifting since flying from Lóng Bǎolěi. Somehow, she’d managed to maintain that bit of control.
He stood and pulled on his robe before starting to don his armor piece by piece. It was a mesmerizing dance, one he’d performed many times before. As each piece of armor slid into place, encasing him in steel scales, his mind cleared.
Whatever this battle meant, however the odds were against them, he was ready to fight for Piao one final time.
Pushing his dao into his scabbard, he stared out the window once more, watching as the moonlight sparkled through the square, hiding the city from the coming trauma.
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he sighed. This was what he’d trained for his entire life. He reached the door in three strides and walked out into the bustling palace.
The sun would not rise for a couple hours yet, but the palace prepared for war. Servants rushed to feed the guard before their departure. Guardsmen finished sharpening their weapons and checking their armor.
They issued short bows to Jian as he passed. On this day, the palace would not see him as the bastard son of a treasonous consort. No, today, he was the commander who would lead them all to war.
He reached the entryway where two of the consorts fussed over Duyi in his unblemished armor. Jian stared at him for a moment, wanting to tell him to go back to bed, to stay behind where he’d be safe.
But even Dasha wasn’t safe anymore.
“Bo won’t like it.” Luca’s voice came from behind Jian. He looked toward the prince.
“He will understand.” As Jian said the words, his eyes found Bo striding from one of the hallways, a robe covering his chain mail and a helmet under one arm.
He gave them a grim smile when he stopped walking.
“Absolutely not.” Luca shook his head.
Jian only closed his eyes, wishing none of them were in this situation.
“I will fight for my empire.” Bo shrugged as if the emperor hadn’t just proclaimed he was riding to war.
“Bo.” Luca put a hand on his shoulder. “You are the emperor. We cannot risk it.”
Something Jian couldn’t decipher flashed in Bo’s eyes, some knowledge he hadn’t shared.
Bo pushed Luca’s hand away. “We are asking the men of Dasha—most who are past their fighting ages—to go to battle against the Kou to save this city. They are leaving their homes, their families. Yet, you did not ask it of me.” Hurt flashed across his face as he turned to Jian. “I need to stand with my people, Jian. They need to see that their emperor will fight for them as they fight for him.”
This wasn’t a battle for the warriors of Piao. Most of them died days ago in the Liudong Valley. Now, was a time for the remaining people to protect their way of life, to protect each other. Jian met Luca’s gaze, trying to convey that to him. Finally, Luca stepped back, the fight leaving him.
Jian bowed to Bo. “I will be honored to have you fight at my side, brother, but I hope you will consider riding with the guards and not the foot soldiers.” For their battle plan, Jian had no need of a horse. He’d hide in the fields with the men of Dasha along with the Nagi, Gen Minglan, and many others.
Bo nodded. “I have already told someone to ready my horse.”
A thought struck Jian. There was only one horse he trusted to take care of his brother. He waved to a guard. “The horse I arrived on. Her name is Heima. She will carry the emperor today.”
The guard nodded and hurried away to ready Heima.
A second guard approached with Zhao following close behind. After bowing to the emperor, the guard spoke. “This man says he had permission to enter the palace.”
Bo didn’t speak, but Luca raised an eyebrow. “Zhao Shi?” He waved the guard away. “Jian told me you were in the city.”
Zhao had refused to sleep at the palace, camping in the square with the other soldiers instead so he could be closer to Commander Yang. “Yes, General.” His lips twitched. “I am glad to see you alive.”
Jian cleared his throat. “Any news on Commander Yang?”
Zhao nodded. “Healer Liqin expects him to make a full recovery, given time.”
Some good news at least.
Bo froze, spotting something over Jian’s shoulder. He knew what it was. Dropping his voice, he stepped closer to his brother. “If you have the right to fight, so does he.”
“Duyi is a child.”
Jian shook his head. “Not anymore. Village boys train for war at his age. You must let him go.”
Bo sighed and ran a hand over his head. “I know.”
Zhao nodded to them both, not meeting the emperor’s eyes. “The men have gathered in the square. We are ready.”
Jian scanned the crowded entryway, wondering if it would belong to them when this was over. “Luca, gather the guard and have them join the men outside. Bo, go tell Duyi that he has to at least tell the empress he is leaving.” Yanyu was nowhere to be found, and that could only mean she didn’t know. “And he too must ride with the guard.”
Despite being the emperor, Bo obeyed Jian’s command. Today wasn’t about royal status. Whe
n they left for battle, Jian was the highest authority.
“Lihua.” Zhao’s words were no more than a whisper as his eyes tracked the young consort.
Jian remembered the stories he’d heard about why Zhao had been sent to war. He was a young guard who fell in love with a consort and faced prison or war. Turning to regard the young woman, Jian stilled. She entered the room wearing lightweight armor that molded onto her frame as if it had been made for her.
Her long dark hair was swept up into a high tail. Two daos hung at her waist.
After spending months training Hua, Jian no longer wondered if women belonged in battle. Lihua was important to the empire as a consort, but this was an important moment for Piao. Just like Bo. Just like Duyi. If she thought her place was in this war, he had no right to tell her otherwise.
And yet, Zhao looked like he’d seen a spirit.
Lihua took no notice of them as she sent a scathing look to the eunuchs who tried to follow her out the doors and down the steps to join the makeshift army.
“Are you okay?” Jian asked.
Zhao shook himself. “I… Yes. I will not commit treason against the emperor again.”
That wasn’t what Jian meant. He knew more than anyone what it felt like to love someone he had no future with. Clapping Zhao on the back, he pushed open the doors to find their small army—if one could call it that—gathered at the bottom of the steps.
It was all Piao had to stand between victory and destruction.
Jian’s eyes caught on Hua as she wound through the crowd, but it wasn’t her. He steeled himself as the remaining guards ran down the steps. At the front stood Luca, staring up at Jian with more faith than Jian had in himself. Zhao stood beside him, his face a cold mask.
Even Lihua joined the men rather than standing at the top of the steps.
Commotion sounded behind Jian, and he turned to see Bo arguing with Yanyu as Duyi stood silently by.
“Enough,” Jian commanded, his eyes hard. “Empress, we must prepare.”
All fight left her, and her shoulders sagged as a sob left her lips. Jian had never seen her as anything other than cruel, but in that moment, she was just a mother afraid for her son.
Jian gestured for Bo and Duyi to stand with him, but Bo shook his head. The entire collection of men watched the emperor and the prince descend the steps to stand on even ground with the army. In this, they were together.
This was the moment when the battle could be won.
A rallying cry.
A spark of hope.
Even in the dark of the pre-dawn morning, there was light. It lived in the people before him, come from their homes to protect the empire. It lived in the emperor willing to lay down his life, the warriors who’d already died in this fight.
And it lived in the Nagi who stood on their side, at least for today.
Jian drew himself up to his full height. “The Kou destroyed our army.” Gasps rang out as the news wound through the crowd and back to those who’d come to see the warriors off. “No one is coming to help us.” He stepped forward and down the first marble step. “I have seen these warriors. They are vicious and will fight without mercy. We will be outnumbered, out-skilled, but there is something they do not have.”
He took another step down.
“Something to fight for. They would take our fields, our homes, our empire for their own ambition. But they do not know us. They do not know you have come from your farms and your shops for love, not duty. You do not owe us this fight, yet you are here to protect everything you hold dear. Make no mistake, they will try to take it.”
He stopped halfway down the steps. “Will we let them?”
The sound started low before more joined in, shouting “no” and issuing their own battle cries.
“I am honored to fight with you by my side. If this is the end,” Jian yelled. “Let’s take them with us.”
The cheer grew, and Jian stared at the bravery of the ordinary citizens of Piao. Most of the men had fought their wars years ago, yet they’d come. He let the sounds wash over him, bolstering his own strength.
The crowd parted as he walked through them, leading them toward the northern gate to the fields beyond where they would make their stand.
36
The Nagi
The Nagi didn’t know what she had expected of Jian’s plan, but this certainly wasn’t it.
She crouched down, hidden in the wheat fields north of the city. Behind them, along the road winding through the fields, sat what remained of Piao’s trained army, the palace guard. They perched high above their war horses, encased in steel armor that shone as the dawn broke across the horizon, throwing blood red streaks of haze across the sky.
It was fitting on a day like this.
Even with her help, the Nagi didn’t believe Piao would emerge victorious, not unless Hua loosened the reins, letting the Nagi control her heart as well as her mind.
Only then would she be able to shift into her true form. A dragon.
“Instead, I’m hiding in a wheat field with a dao as my weapon.” She shook her head, flexing her fingers around the hilt. Steel was not the weapon of the Nagi. Fire. She needed fire.
“I will not risk everything.” Hua’s voice grew stronger.
“You do not trust me.”
The Nagi would have sworn Hua laughed. “After everything? No.”
“I will succeed in my mission, Hua. The dynasty will pay for what they’ve done. I have no more need for destruction.”
“You never had any need for it, and yet destruction is what we got.”
With a growl, the Nagi sank lower, letting the swaying wheat bend around her. The foot soldiers of Piao, no more than too-old warriors, remained still, waiting for the enemy to arrive. Jian crouched up ahead, determined to fight on the front line and leaving Luca to command the guard at their backs.
Hua’s friend, Zhao, bent next to her, darting glances at her every chance he got. But Hua wasn’t there, and only the Nagi looked back.
“What?” the Nagi hissed.
Zhao shrugged, his gaze turned to the consort who’d chosen to fight with them. “I am honored to fight at Hua Minglan’s side once more.”
A pang shot through the Nagi, but it wasn’t her own. She swallowed, shoving Hua’s thoughts away. She didn’t respond, soaking in the stillness before battle, the calm before the chaos.
Horses thundered down the road, and the Nagi heard them before anyone else, but the sounds didn’t come from an army. She guessed twenty or so men tried to outpace something, driving their horses at full gallop.
Shouts erupted through the field, and Jian lifted a hand in signal to the guards. They drew their bows, but no arrows loosed as one of the riders waved his arms, yelling to Jian.
Zhao cursed. “Chen.” He pushed through the wheat to run toward the road. Jian yelled to him as he sprinted after him.
The Nagi straightened, moving closer.
Two of Hua’s fellow soldiers led the tired looking force. Chen and Yan.
Chen yelled something to Jian no one could make out.
Yan’s voice cut through the field. “We were trying to make it here before the attack.”
“The Kou are coming.” Chen’s body jerked as soon as the words were out, and he slid sideways, tumbling from his horse, an arrow in his back.
Jian only stared for a moment before yelling to the riders to join the guard. He crouched low in the wheat, his voice the only thing telling of his presence. “Warriors, stay down. Do not reveal yourself.”
The Nagi crept through the wheat until she reached Jian’s side. The movement didn’t belong to her, but she let Hua be the guide, and Hua wanted to fight with Jian.
“Low,” Jian whispered. “Stay low.”
The thunderous sound of hooves beating into the ground sounded like a storm trying to break over them.
And the Nagi saw him.
General Batukhan Altan rode atop a giant black stallion, his eyes cutting through the field
as if he could see through the wheat to what lay in wait.
The Nagi had no vendetta against Altan, yet hatred burned through her. Hua’s hatred. Piao’s hatred. For just a moment, the Nagi felt as though the entire consciousness of Piao raced through her, making her heart skip a beat.
The Nagi readied her dao as she waited for the enemy to reach them, waited for them to slow. But they didn’t. The Kou raced for the guards on their horses like prey calling to its predator. Wheat bent under the force of a thousand horses, trampled into the ground that had given it life.
The Nagi spared one glance for the guards, knowing the emperor and prince were hidden among them, ready to face the enemy with a bravery she hadn’t expected.
“Wait,” Jian commanded as the enemy neared. “Wait.” He looked back over his shoulder at the gathered warriors. “If you should fall, I will see you in the next life.”
And then he struck. He lunged forward, driving his dao up into the leg of the first man, knocking him from his horse while flipping his knife in his hand and sending it end over end into another.
With a battle cry, the rest of the hidden men sprang their trap, jumping to their feet to meet the nomadic warriors who were bigger, stronger, and more skilled. Piao fighters did not train for war their entire lives. They came from their fields and homes when the need arose.
Death was not their medium.
But on this day, they became death.
The Nagi whirled around to find Zhao at her back, protecting her vulnerabilities as he fought with strength and power.
Nagi were solitary creatures, but there, on that battlefield as she sliced through another Kou warrior, she learned what it meant to not be alone.
Jian cut a path to her, his face pained every time he had to harm a horse instead of its rider. Together with Zhao, they formed three sides of a triangle, shifting to help each other remain standing, remain in this life.
