Kingdom of the Blazing Phoenix

by Julie C. Dao

  Image is the very word, Jade thought. The summons had been written in Xifeng’s hand, and the soldiers’ armor bore Xifeng’s seal. The woman could have easily persuaded His Majesty to keep Jade. But she didn’t. She let him get rid of me.

  “I knew sending you away was wise,” the Empress said. “You would be safe and given a humble upbringing. But I always hoped to bring you home. The world being what it is, and as occupied as I’ve been since your father first became ill, there wasn’t an opportunity until now.”

  “It’s true that I was safe with the monks, Your Majesty,” Jade said slowly. “But I did wish many times that I could know my father better. And you.”

  The Empress’s eyes moved to hers. There was something off-putting about her gaze, as though another person stared out from under that perfect mask. “It must have been hard for you, my dear, but the important thing is that you’ve come back to us.”

  Jade forced a smile as the woman slipped an arm through hers, steering her back toward the doors. Kang, Amah, and the attendants followed as they walked.

  “I have endured much sorrow, Jade. The gods have not seen fit to bless me with children. But I am a determined woman.” Xifeng lowered her voice with a conspiratorial smile. “I never accept failure. I found a new physician, and my hopes for a baby have never been higher. Still, I deemed it prudent to bring you home. We must never make assumptions where Feng Lu’s future is concerned, and it is time you learned more about your role as Emperor Jun’s only child and heir.”

  Jade blinked in surprise. “Thank you for being forthright with me.”

  The Empress patted her arm. “We’ll have to find first-class tutors for you. I suppose your education in poetry, literature, calligraphy, and such has been of a rudimentary quality.”

  “On the contrary, Your Majesty, Amah’s schooling was excellent.”

  Xifeng turned to the old woman. “I remember you. You nursed all of the royal children.”

  Amah gave the slightest bow she could without provoking offense. “I was nursemaid and tutor to Empress Lihua and her mother before her as well,” she said proudly. “I saw the Empress married twice and witnessed the births of all four of her children.”

  “Much that occurred before my time.” Xifeng led them down another ornate corridor and glanced at Jade. “It was your mother’s first husband, Emperor Tai, who elevated your father. When Jun first came to court, he was a nobleman of no importance except for a droplet of blood he shared with Tai and Lihua. But Tai saw something in him. He named Jun regent, because the three princes were too young to rule, and when Tai died, your father took over.”

  “Did you know my mother well?” Jade asked.

  “I was your age when I first came here, and Lihua was very kind to me,” her stepmother answered. “I was motherless and drawn to her. I loved her, in fact.”

  Jade glanced sharply at her, but Xifeng’s profile betrayed no emotion. If you loved my mother, how came my father to notice you? When did you decide, together, to betray her?

  A powerful wave of resentment overtook her as she studied the woman who wore her mother’s jewels and walked her mother’s halls. No matter what Xifeng said, she had seized Lihua’s place. No one could truly love another while wanting her life at the same time.

  Jade suddenly realized the Empress was watching her with a small smile, as though she’d heard everything Jade was thinking. “And my love for Lihua is why I’m determined to spoil her daughter,” Xifeng said. “I’ve planned an opulent birthday banquet for you, with food and music and dancing. The eunuchs have been working on a play, have they not, Kang?”

  “They’ve been rehearsing day and night, Your Majesty, and even the ladies-in-waiting have a surprise dance for the entertainment.” The eunuch took a painted fan from his robes and fluttered it before his face, his wrist twirling to demonstrate.

  “Goodness,” Xifeng said brightly.

  Jade imagined tables groaning with food while children starved in the city. “Please, that isn’t necessary,” she told the Empress. “To be with you and His Majesty is all I dare ask.”

  Xifeng waved away her protests. “Lihua would have wanted us to throw you a celebration worthy of a princess. Now, come. Your father is waiting to see you in his quarters.”

  She strolled through a pair of marble doors inlaid with mother-of-pearl and emerald. Dozens of guards stood along the darkened corridor within, but though they protected Emperor Jun’s apartments, they all wore the black armor of Xifeng’s private soldiers.

  The moment had come. Jade had envisioned meeting her father many times during the journey, but now that it was about to happen, she felt a sudden powerful urge to run. What would he be like? Would he be kind and indulgent? Would he apologize for throwing her away?

  She might have felt amused at her own absurd fantasies if she hadn’t been so anxious.

  Amah’s arm went around her. “Strength of the dragon,” she whispered. “Fire of the phoenix.”

  The room they entered was the most lavish yet, but Jade saw it all in a haze. The brocade curtains, ornate metal lanterns, and gleaming furniture blurred around one point of focus: a huge gold silk bed where the Emperor of Feng Lu lay propped up on pillows. Half a dozen eunuchs and maids on either side straightened their spines upon the Empress’s arrival.

  Whatever image Jade had drawn of her father in her mind, it was not of a dazed man with a sickly pallor. His shrunken build suggested he had not left his bed for some time. His head, which had apparently been shaved to hide the thinness of his hair, shone in the light like a frail, newly hatched egg. He was not yet fifty, but already wore the exhaustion of a much older man.

  His unfocused eyes rested blearily on his wife as she bowed and fussed over his covers.

  “Enough, Xifeng,” Emperor Jun said in a petulant voice, swatting her away with a trembling hand. “You make me quite dizzy. I am as comfortable as I will ever be.”

  “Certainly, my love,” she responded, but she made sure to smooth his pillow and straighten his blankets for a good long minute afterward. His weak attempts to push her away were no more than flies buzzing about her head. “Your comfort is the chief care of my life.”

  “I had something to say. I thought of it all morning, but now it has slipped from me.”

  “You’ll remember it before long,” Xifeng said soothingly, like a mother to a fretful child.

  “My father’s ministers told me I had the finest mind of any boy, sharp as a blade with an excellent memory. But I forget so many things now.” His hands scuttled helplessly over the blankets. “Can you tell me why that might be?”

  Jade watched with growing distaste as he continued whining while Xifeng bustled around him in her overbearing way. The scene did nothing to recommend her father to her or quell the irritation she felt upon seeing him being coddled, while out in the world his people suffered. But mingled with her annoyance was pity, too, for he looked truly ill.

  Amah had described him as full of life and intelligence. Looking at him now, Jade could scarcely fathom what old Emperor Tai had once seen in him. His condition would explain why Xifeng had to take so much upon herself, but such a man had the best physicians and medicines available—he was no peasant wasting away without care.

  “How did he come to be so ill, Your Majesty?” Jade asked, disturbed.

  “It has come on gradually for fifteen years,” Xifeng said sadly. “He was forgetful at first, neglecting to attend councils or greet distinguished guests. Then he began to complain of headaches and stomach ailments, and to sleep all the time and lose interest in everything.”

  Jade moved forward tentatively, looking at the sickly face on the pillow. “Hasn’t the physician been able to find any helpful tonic? Auntie Tan, one of the monks I lived with, and I found an herbal remedy that helped a village woman with low spirits.”

  “We sent for medicines from across t
he continent, but your father grew worse. He had fevers and visions, shivering one moment, perspiring the next. He would lie in a stupor for weeks at a time. I hate to have you see him like this.” The Empress gave a heavy sigh.

  A thick, unpleasant smell rose from the bed as Jade took another step forward, studying the Emperor’s shrunken musculature and the green-yellow cast of his skin. “Has anyone tried to get him outside? Exercise might do him a bit of good.”

  “In the condition he’s in?” Xifeng asked incredulously.

  “What sort of food does he eat each day? Is his diet too rich?” Jade persisted. In helping Auntie Tan, she had seen much illness among the villagers, but none so bad as this. It bothered her, the idea that a king with every luxury should suffer so greatly. It didn’t make sense.

  Xifeng dropped the Emperor’s hand and turned slowly. “What are you trying to say, Jade? You suppose that I haven’t thought of everything you suggest?”

  Jade’s stomach dropped at the expression on her stepmother’s face. It was like fire on branches, ready to blaze up with one gust of wind. The woman in the throne room had been merry and girlish, but this was a different person, one few had crossed and survived to tell the tale. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to insinuate that, Your Majesty,” she said hastily.

  “I have done everything in my power to make him well again. Do you think if I could, I wouldn’t bring him back to full health at once?” Xifeng had the ability to speak in a soft tone that carried through the room in the same way as another person shouting.

  Jade bowed her head, her cheeks hot. “I only wanted to help, Your Majesty. I beg your forgiveness. It was not my intention to offend you,” she said, though her mind raced at the Empress’s defensiveness. Again, the sense of unease, of having been lied to, crept through her.

  Xifeng’s expression softened. “Forgive me, my child. Of course you’re right to worry about your father, and my own concern has made me sharp and discourteous.”

  The Emperor suddenly spoke in a triumphant voice, interrupting the awkward moment. “I wish to attend the council on Kamatsu tomorrow. That was what I wished to say to you! I need to be there, Xifeng, and hear what they propose in this bid for independence.”

  “Of course, my honored husband.” The Empress pointed at a pale, nervous eunuch with a large mole on his nose. “Where is the extra dose of medicine I ordered? It should have been here an hour ago, to calm His Majesty before the princess arrived.”

  The eunuch gave a shaky bow. “I will go inquire, Your Majesty.”

  “If you can’t be back in five minutes, don’t bother coming back.” The poor man scurried away as Xifeng’s gaze swept to Jade. “Come meet your father, darling.”

  Jade obeyed, holding her breath against the powerful smell of decay. Sweat gleamed on Emperor Jun’s forehead as he turned to look at her without recognition in his bloodshot eyes. Perhaps he had forgotten he even had a daughter. “Your Majesty,” she said, her mouth dry.

  “Who are you?” Jun wheezed.

  “My love,” Xifeng said, exasperated, “I told you our daughter, Princess Jade, was coming today. She’s joined us for her birthday. Do you not recall?”

  Jade watched the Emperor clutch feebly at the covers, wondering why she had been so nervous about seeing him. Perhaps she had been afraid he would change her mind. Perhaps, after what he had done, she had feared that he would make her love him. “I am honored to be in your presence, Your Majesty,” she said stiffly.

  “Jade,” Emperor Jun repeated, shaking his head. “Jade.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Xifeng whispered to Jade. “Perhaps if we . . .”

  “Lihua.”

  They both stared at the Emperor in shock. He had spoken the name more clearly than any other word he had uttered thus far. He looked straight at his daughter, and for the first time, Jade could see a hint of the old vigor and handsomeness Amah had mentioned.

  Emperor Jun lifted a limp hand, but Jade did not take it. “You’re Lihua’s daughter. She longed for you and risked her life to have you, though Bohai told her not to. Where is Bohai?”

  “You mean Gao, my love,” Xifeng corrected him.

  “No, I mean Bohai.” The Emperor struggled to sit up. “He told her it was dangerous to try for a daughter at her age, but she desperately wanted a girl. I remember that.”

  “Be still, Your Majesty. You are too weak to sit up.” The Empress pushed him back in place, and he didn’t have the will to fight her. The fretful confusion reappeared on his face as he leaned against the sweat-soaked pillow, panting with exertion.

  “Lihua named her daughter Jade,” he said. “I wonder what became of her.”

  “You just spoke to her, husband. Don’t you remember?” Xifeng asked.

  Once more, Emperor Jun’s eyes met Jade’s and she trembled at his recognition, at the only time in memory her father had ever truly looked at her. “Jade, my only child,” he mumbled, his expression clearing once again. “How you’ve grown. Is it really you?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” She swallowed hard. She saw such sorrow and regret and joy on his face . . . He lifted his hand again. At an encouraging nod from Xifeng, Jade took it, feeling each brittle bone in his fingers as her earlier irritation vanished. There was pain embedded in his skin, and the press of his hand held desperation.

  He coughed. “I want to speak to my daughter. Leave us, all of you. Xifeng, please.”

  In his frightened eyes, Jade saw no Emperor, but a severely ill man who had been secluded for nearly two decades in this stuffy chamber. Jade noticed her stepmother watching her with the intensity of a bird of prey.

  At that moment, the anxious eunuch hurried back into the room. A boy scurried after him, carrying a gold vessel shaped like a swan.

  Xifeng brightened. “Of course you’ll want to speak to Jade more when you’re feeling better,” she said, touching her husband’s thin shoulder. “But you should take your medicine now, Your Majesty, and perhaps soon we three will dine together.”

  “I want to speak to my daughter,” Jun wheezed. “Jade . . . I must . . .”

  The Empress beckoned the boy forward. Slowly, he uncovered the vessel to reveal coils of steam and a ladle. The medicine smelled of pungent wet earth, like the rancid soil of a swamp.

  Jade bit her lip, struggling for the right words as Xifeng picked up the ladle, her mouth set in an intent line. “Your Majesty, surely my father can take his medicine and I can stay a bit longer? With your permission?” she asked, in as deferential a tone as she could muster.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The medicine makes him drowsy, and he has had enough excitement for one day.” The Empress lifted the ladle to her husband’s lips, ensuring that every drop went down his throat. “Kang will see you to your chamber. We’ll dine tomorrow after you’ve been introduced to more of my court. I have business tonight.” She glanced up at Jade with a little smile, as though daring her to argue.

  But Jade’s protest died on her lips. She could not risk angering her stepmother again, not when so many questions needed answering. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. Until tomorrow, my dear,” her stepmother said warmly.

  Kang ushered her and Amah to the door, but Jade couldn’t help peering back over her shoulder.

  Xifeng was still bent over the Emperor. His head lolled to one side, and though his muscles seemed more relaxed, one blue-veined hand still stretched toward his daughter. His white lips formed a name, but to whom it belonged was lost as the Empress’s faceless, black-armored soldiers shut the mother-of-pearl doors securely behind Jade.

  Despite Xifeng’s promise, three days passed without Jade seeing her or the Emperor. Her stepmother sent a note explaining that urgent business detained her. In addition to the protests cropping up around the city, the king of the Sacred Grasslands—who had always been a loyal subject—seemed to have go
ne rogue after Kamatsu’s continued bids for independence. Rumors of a planned uprising against Xifeng were swirling . . . but she didn’t wish to bore Jade with the details.

  “She brought me home to learn about my future, as the Emperor’s only heir,” Jade fumed. “I may not have wanted this throne, but I should be at these meetings with her.”

  Amah sat sewing on a persimmon silk sofa. “She still believes she’ll bear a son, as we heard the other day. It seems you’re here as a pawn—she just doesn’t know what she wants to use you for yet. She summoned you here to keep you close, not to give you her empire.”

  Jade tried to pace, but her movements were restricted by the elaborate silks she wore. The attendants had dressed her to meet some noblewomen who would pay her a visit today. “There’s something wrong here,” she said. “I don’t believe everything that could be done for my father has been done. I think I’ll have the Imperial physician call on me.”

  “Is that wise? You saw how angry Xifeng got when you started asking her questions.”

  “I’ll have to think of some excuse. A headache, perhaps.”

  Amah quirked an eyebrow. “Does this concern for your father mean you’ve forgiven him?”

  “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it. The Emperor has no one left to care for him, not with all of the servants and soldiers being under Xifeng’s control.” Jade bit her lip. “And I doubt anyone has investigated those disappearances. The protesters suggested that Xifeng is responsible. But what could she have done with the missing women?”