by CK Dawn
The visitors’ discussion came to an abrupt halt as they turned to greet me, heads bowed and palms pressed together. Dark bronze skin and rounded features marked them as ethnic Ayuri. Meticulously coifed black hair fell to their shoulders. The centermost man, taller and more handsome than his companions, met my gaze.
With blue irises, luminous like the blue moon Guanyin’s Eye. They captured my image in their liquid depths and reflected it back, more beautiful than make-up could accomplish. Maybe even as beautiful as Xiulan.
He tilted his head and flashed a smoldering smile.
I cast my eyes down, only to peek up through my lashes. My lips twitched, struggling against all discipline in their urge to return the smile. Ridiculous! Where had the carefully crafted mask of an imperial diplomat fled to? I tightened my mouth, squared my chin, and looked up.
When he spoke, his voice flowed out of his mouth like honeysuckle vines, entangling me. “I am Prince Hardeep. You must be the Princess of Cathay. The stories of your beauty do you no justice.”
What? Nobody could say my plain looks warranted praise, at least not sincerely. Yet his earnest words sounded nothing like the hollow compliments of court sycophants and suitors.
Heat rose to my cheeks, threatening to melt away the make-up, and my nominally dignified expression with it. His language tumbled off my tongue, accent lilting in my ears. “Welcome to Sun-Moon Palace, Prince Hardeep. I act as the ears of my father, the Emperor.”
Cringe-worthy. I could speak Ayuri better than that. Almost perfectly, but—
“And your voice! Saraswati, Goddess of the Arts, would be jealous. Perhaps you would sing for me?”
My head swam. My mouth opened to beg off the unexpected request, but no words came out.
He waved a hand, and his manner stiffened. “I forget myself. Your song would certainly invigorate me, and I confess I hoped to catch a glimpse of you during my visit. However, my country’s needs are more pressing. I have a request of your Emperor.”
Whatever spell his previous tone had woven through my mind loosened enough to free my voice. “I am afraid you misinterpret his intentions. By sending me, he has already denied you.” No. Had I just said that? I covered my mouth. If only Avarax would swoop in and devour me now.
The Ankiran prince’s lips melted into a frown and his attention shifted to my slippers. “Please hear our entreaty. The Kingdom of Madura occupies almost all of Ankira, in part because of their twice-renewed trade agreement with Cathay. For almost thirty years, you have sold them firepowder. Now, our soldiers are weary and our coffers depleted. The agreement expires soon. We ask—no, beg—that you not renew it.”
Released from his gaze, my brain began to clear. “How were you able to make it through the Maduran lines?”
Prince Hardeep raised his head. I avoided those mesmerizing eyes, and instead focused on his chin as he spoke. “One of your lords, Peng Kai-Long, has long supported us. I came with him on a Cathayi trade ship.”
It made sense. Cousin Kai-Long served as a trade negotiator in Ayuri lands and knew many influential people in Tivaralan’s South. He’d recently returned to the capital to attend the upcoming wedding of Second Brother.
“He is my father’s favorite nephew,” I said. “I am sure he could present a more convincing argument to the Son of Heaven than I.”
Prince Hardeep shook his head. “Search inside yourself and speak with your heart. A father cannot deny the compassionate voice of his beloved daughter. Please. Our riches have been plundered, our people enslaved.” His voice beckoned my head up. “Widows must sell their bodies, while orphans starve in the streets.”
His dejected gaze twisted into me. My heart, suddenly hot, sank into my belly. Father must not have known the consequences of Cathay’s trade agreement, since he ruled with the moral authority of Heaven. Here was a chance to show my understanding of statecraft, to prove I was worthy of my noble birth, while helping a downtrodden people.
“I will convey your message. Please make yourself comfortable until my return.” I paused for a moment to search his expression. All signs of his earlier frivolity were gone. He’d just been toying with me to get what he wanted.
It didn’t matter. It was the right thing to do. All the heroes from my favorite songs would’ve done the same. With an inward sigh, I turned and swept out of the hall, guards marching behind me.
Outside, I took a deep breath of cool spring air to calm my thoughts and ease the hot constriction in my chest. Never before had a man made my pulse race like that. Then again, I had nothing but six fawning suitors with which to compare him.
No, this had nothing to do with Prince Hardeep’s charm. An entire nation suffered, with Cathay’s complicity. Father had always preached morality, demanded me to always do the right thing. I turned to the official. “Where is the Emperor now?”
The old man gawked. “I don’t think—”
I cast a silencing glare.
He bowed his head. “In the Hall of Supreme Harmony.”
As the palace’s central audience chamber, the Hall of Supreme Harmony was just a few minutes away, up one hundred sixty-eight arduous steps. Father rode an ornate golden palanquin to the top, but I, like anyone else who wasn’t the Emperor, had to climb.
Each step planted a seed of doubt in my head. A princess had no business in politics, besides solidifying loyalties through marriage. Remonstrating Father in front of all the lords and ministers would embarrass him, so much that he would have no choice but to punish me.
Two
Intents and Purposes
The shuffling of court robes and the cloying scent of incense greeted me as I stepped over the high threshold and into the cavernous hall. Dozens of golden columns vaulted toward the ceiling, where a tiled mosaic depicted a dragon and phoenix circling each other. I mused over their symbolic significance. The male dragon and female phoenix represented balance, even though men and women’s roles were far from equal.
All the more reason not to be here, presenting a case Father had no intention of hearing. I ventured down an aisle formed by dozens of kneeling ministers and hereditary lords. Save for Eldest Brother Kai-Guo, all pressed their heads to the marble floor as I made my way toward the white marble dais. Carved into its sides were dozens of bat and lotus symbols, which I counted to calm my nerves.
Father slouched on the Jade Throne, which was chiseled in the form of a coiled dragon. Yellow robes embroidered with auspicious symbols on the chest and elbows hung over his gaunt frame. Gone was the robust optimism I remembered from my childhood. Mother’s recent passing had left the gold phoenix throne at his side as empty as his heart. As always, General Zheng, bearing the Broken Sword, stood a step behind him.
A lump formed in my throat. I sank to both knees. Stretching my arms out to straighten my sleeves, I placed my hands in front of me as I pressed my forehead to the floor.
Father’s voice wobbled. “Rise, my daughter.”
I straightened and met his piercing regard, one that warned not to mention the foreign prince. My clenching chest squeezed out all my resolve.
No. Father would never condone the suffering of Prince Hardeep and his people for mere profit. The assembled lords must be hiding the truth. Someone had to tell him, lest Heaven punish the realm for its immorality. I lifted my chin. “Please hear the request of Prince Hardeep Vaswani of Ankira.”
Behind me, the lords and ministers stifled gasps.
Yet Father’s expression softened. “What does Prince Hardeep ask of Cathay?”
“Your Exaltedness,” I said. “He asks that we cease sales of firepowder to the Madurans.”
The ministers broke into a low murmur until Chief Minister Tan rose to one knee, head bowed. “Your Exaltedness, I negotiated our original agreement with Madura. It has been mutually beneficial.”
Beneficial. Riches for Cathay, conquest for Madura. Misery for my Prince Hardeep’s Ankira. Breaking all decorum, I spun and scowled at Chief Minister Tan. Fine lines of age framed his
triangular face, giving him a foxlike appearance. When I released him from my glare, he averted his eyes as protocol demanded.
I turned back to Father. “Your Exaltedness, do the Five Classics not say that a ruler must act morally? Our actions have led to an unenviable situation in Ankira that we should seek to rectify.”
Cousin Peng Kai-Long rose up to one knee. “Your Exaltedness, I agree with the princess. Not only that, but once the Madurans pacify Ankira, and the trade agreement does expire, they will turn their ambitions toward us.”
Chief Minister Tan shook his head. “We are their source of firepowder. They will make war with someone else.”
And spread despair, with Cathay’s complicity. I formulated a dignified response in my head. What kind of country put profit over people? Not only should they not renew the trade agreement… “A moral nation would terminate the treaty now.”
More murmurs, undoubtedly from greedy lords who cared more about gold than morality.
“Unfortunately, that is not an option,” the Chief Minister said. “In the original negotiations, I bore an imperial plaque. To go against our word, sealed with a plaque, is tantamount to the Emperor forsaking the Mandate of Heaven. It would invite another Hellstorm.”
I sucked in my breath at the implication. Three centuries before, the last emperor of the Yu Dynasty had reneged on his plaque-bound obligations. The gods rained divine fire from the sky as punishment, blasting open a new sea in the fertile plains of the Ayuri South and plunging the world into the Long Winter.
It was unusual for an imperial plaque to be used in simple trade negotiations, since it represented the honor of the Emperor. However, as a girl—even as a princess—I couldn’t challenge the Chief Minister’s word directly. I raised an eyebrow at him. “How much longer does the agreement last?”
Tan’s brows furrowed as he looked to the ceiling. “A year, maybe? I do not recall.”
Prince Hardeep didn’t have a year. I turned back to Father. “Should we delay a decision until we find the original contract in the Trade Ministry’s archives?”
The Emperor straightened on the throne. He waved toward the lords and officials. “Everyone but Crown Prince Kai-Guo, Young Lord Peng, and Princess Kaiya will withdraw for tea.”
All present bowed their foreheads to the floor before rising. Whether they drank tea or not, the Emperor’s suggestion left no doubt, they would drink something, somewhere else. They filed out in precise order.
Pulse skittering, I folded my hands into my lap. Father’s stare might as well have been a dwarven anvil on my shoulders.
Once the room cleared, servants closed the doors. The hall seemed more cavernous with only Eldest Brother, Cousin Kai-Long, and a dozen imperial guards remaining, and was made even more so by the Emperor’s echoing voice.
“Kai-Long,” he said. “It seems the foreign prince ignored our unspoken denial and deigned to pressure the princess into acting as his mouthpiece.”
Cousin Kai-Long pressed his head to the floor. “Your Exaltedness, forgive me for suggesting it.”
I found him in the corner of my eye. My stomach felt hollow. I’d failed all their expectations, even when doing the right thing by helping Ankira.
“I warned you, Cousin.” Eldest Brother Kai-Guo’s lips drew into a tight line. “Kaiya isn’t trained. She should have just occupied him with idle banter. She is more musician than diplomat.”
Heat pulsated in my cheeks. Apparently, they’d forgotten I was kneeling right there beside them. Then Eldest Brother’s attention fell on my hand, which was subconsciously twirling a lock of my hair, proving his point. I jerked the hand back to my lap.
Kai-Guo looked to the throne. “Father, may I speak freely?”
“I would not have sequestered the family if not to allow you the latitude.”
Kai-Guo bowed his head. “Then if I may, you dote on Kaiya to the detriment of the realm. She wastes her time on music when she should be learning how to be a proper princess. You could have ordered her to marry any six of the previous young lords she met. Instead, you not only allowed her to choose, you pulled her out of matchmaking meetings.”
Father’s brows clashed together for a split second. “She is not ready to be married, not to one of those men.”
My head spun. So the interruptions had been Father’s doing. But why? What was wrong with those suitors, besides their lack of wit and their self-absorbed attitudes?
“She needs to marry one of those men,” Kai-Guo said. “A princess’ duty—”
The Emperor’s lip quirked just a fraction into a frown. Kai-Guo fell silent and bowed.
Father’s expression softened as he turned to me. “My daughter, it was unfair of me to assign you this task after shielding you from court intrigue all this time. I indulged your love of music when I should have prepared you to become my eyes and ears in your future husband’s fief.”
Suppressing a sigh, I bowed my head. To the realm, my worth as a musician would never surpass my value as a bride. “Why one of those six men?”
Father’s eyes searched mine. “What do they have in common?”
Besides having less personality than a rock and egos larger than the three moons combined? I cocked my head. “They are all sons of Yu-Ming lords.”
“Yes. Second-rank prefectural and county nobles.” Father’s stare bored into me. “From where?”
Why was it important? Especially compared to Ankira’s plight? I caught myself before twirling the stubborn lock of hair again. “The North. Regions near the Wall.”
“What can you tell me about the area?”
Had I known a geography test would follow matchmaking and greeting foreign dignitaries, maybe I would’ve stolen a few minutes out of my rigid schedule to study a map. My brows furrowed. On my last trip, I’d seen… “Rolling hills rise into mountains. Bloodwood trees dot the mountainsides. The land is poor for farming, but the counties thrive from mining.”
He looked to Eldest Brother and Cousin Kai-Long. “See? She understands more than it appears.” He turned back to me. “My daughter, while the realm may seem prosperous and stable, not all under Heaven is well. My spies say several of the lords of the North harbor rebellious intent. They are as hard as the mountains they defend. To keep them content and docile, we buy saltpeter from their mines and process it in the capital to make firepowder.”
I stifled a gasp. For Prince Hardeep and his Ankira, that meant… “We need foreign markets to sell the firepowder to.”
The Emperor tilted his head a fraction. “We reserve the freshest for ourselves and sell older stocks.”
I sucked in a breath. “What about Ankira? We profit from their misery.”
“Sometimes, practicality shades moral precepts.”
At my side, Brother nodded. Cousin Kai-Long’s lips pursed.
I lowered my hand from where I was again twisting that lock of hair. My own father was rationalizing actions which caused another people’s suffering. Wasn’t this the paragon of nobility who’d ingrained a sense of morality in me? “But—”
His eyes narrowed, their warmth replaced by authority. “Convey my regret to Prince Hardeep.”
Cowed by his stern tone, I bowed. Kai-Guo and Kai-Long followed suit.
When I raised my head, Father’s regard softened. “You are so beautiful, my daughter. I will announce your betrothal at the reception tonight. After you send the foreign prince away, go meet with General Lu.”
The bottom dropped out of my belly. Betrothal! To the uncultured commander of the armies in the North. Our planned meeting had been more than a choreographed farce, and with a possible rebellion brewing, perhaps the Guardian Dragon of Cathay had not been the one to request it after all.
I started to speak, but Father’s genuine smile stifled my protest. My heart sank into my stomach. Betrothal appeared as immutable as Cathay’s agreement with Madura. I’d be married, probably as soon as I flowered with Heaven’s Dew, perhaps even forbidden by a dour new husband from singing. Fo
rget my stomach; my heart lay shattered on the marble tiles.
Rising, I trudged out of the hall, back into bright sunlight. This had to be a dream. Marriage. Like Xiulan, night after night of trying to make babies with Eldest Brother Kai-Guo. Monotonous routines all day. But at least Xiulan could practice the magic of her Dragon Script with friends and family.
Not me. I’d be shipped away to barren hills. Devoid of music. Alone. No, it couldn’t be real. I took a deep breath to slow my stuttering pulse. A smooth river pebble found its way from my sash into my hand. Cool and soothing, it was a token from childhood friend Zheng Tian, the boy I’d once laughingly promised to marry. How simple and carefree those days were! When there was no grey area between Right and Wrong. If only I could marry him instead of some pompous soldier. But no; though he might be the son of a first-rank Tai-Ming lord, he’d been banished years ago for a stupid mistake.
I glanced back at my senior-most imperial guard, Chen Xin. He was looking at my hand, frowning. Even on the worst day of my life, it would not do to let anyone see weakness. With a wistful sigh, I straightened my spine and squirrelled the pebble back into its place in my sash. Before meeting my future husband, there was first the equally onerous task of walking back and denying a desperate plea. Thoughts of my own dismal future would have to wait.
Outside the Hall of Bountiful Harvests, I paused and composed myself. Prince Hardeep was just a man. A handsome one, for sure, but I’d met many other good-looking men without wilting into a starry-eyed fool. Steeling myself against whatever magic Prince Hardeep had used to beguile me, I stepped over the threshold.
The prince pressed his hands together and bent his head as I entered. He looked up expectantly.
His irises—they again entranced me.
My straight posture softened as my insides summersaulted. I bowed low. It broke formal court etiquette, and indeed, the ministry secretary clucked his disapproval. At least it would conceal my spine melting to jelly. I held the position and focused on the prince’s red-and-gold-threaded shoes. “I am afraid that Cathay must honor its agreements, lest the Emperor lose the Mandate of Heaven and the realm descend into chaos.”
