by CK Dawn
“Don’t tax yourself,” he said. “Relax. Listen to nothing except your own music.”
Opening my eyes, I nodded. Still, though he might enjoy music, and might have read that single passage from the book, he certainly would know nothing of projecting power through borrowing other sound as Lord Xu had taught.
I closed my eyes and listened again. The collective heartbeats rung in my ears, all waves for my exhaustion to ride on. Loosening my stiff, tired fingers, I played the first frame of Hardeep’s song. The chords came out crisp. The changes in pitch resonated clearly. Aligning my spine and joints, feeling the ground through my behind, I continued. The sound filled the hall.
Behind me, Secretary Hong yawned.
I continued strumming and plucking, my own fatigue percolating through my core. The minister’s robes ruffled as he dropped to a knee. The imperial guards wobbled in place. Heavens, it was working!
And there, among my own music and the beating of all the men’s hearts, Hardeep’s own heart throbbed with strength. Borrow that, as I had the sounds in the garden earlier, and it might be possible to magnify the effect.
“Sing!” Hardeep said. “Let me hear your beautiful voice.”
Sing! Yes, the lute begged for an accompaniment, like the interplay between my masters’ pipa and erhu. I raised my voice in song, letting the lute’s melody guide me. Energy welled inside me, climbing toward crescendo. My spirit soared with it.
Hardeep smiled, his blue irises twinkling.
No! Breath hitching on the notes, my voice cracked. It was like trudging up the snowy slopes of Jade Mountain on an empty stomach. My own heart refused to maintain the power. All energy drained from my arms. My spine, held erect for so long, finally gave out. Gasping, I slumped over the lute.
My gasp echoed the others around the room. I turned to see many of them crumpling over as well. The imperial guards knelt on one knee, their fists on the ground not in salute, but rather to prop themselves up.
I’d done it! This time without the use of a musical instrument imbued with an innate power, no longer in a place with perfect acoustics. A cool wave washed over me, and I filled my lungs as if it would help keep me sitting straight.
Hardeep crawled over to my side, panting. His words came out in gasps. “Very good, princess. Perhaps with more practice and the Dragon Scale Lute, you could repel even Avarax.” He slumped over, the side of his head plopping on my lap and his hair splaying out in a blossom of silky tendrils. The warmth—no, the blazing heat—burned through the silk of both gowns and into my legs. A fever?
Behind me, the imperial guards stirred, but made no move to intervene.
I pushed the lute over and rested it on the floor. Running a hand through Hardeep’s glossy black hair, I brushed it aside to reveal the bronze tone of his neck, smooth, save for a dark oval scar in one spot. So smooth, and…kissable. His eyes were closed, partially concealed by yet more of his voluminous hair.
I swept it over, pausing on his forehead. It was hot, for sure. Too hot. I beckoned Secretary Hong, now just regaining his feet. “Call a palace physician. No, Doctor Wu, if she is in the palace.”
Secretary Hong said, “Your Highness, she is searching for the Dragon Scale Lute.”
That didn’t make sense. Why would a doctor look for a musical instrument? I fixed him with an imperious stare. “It doesn’t matter, any doctor then. Prince Hardeep needs help. He has a fever from the fatigue. He needs acupuncture.”
Hardeep’s eyelids flapped open. “No. No acupuncture.”
With a giggle, I brushed a hand over his cheek. To think an almost-Paladin, who had dared face two imperial guards unarmed, would be scared of thin little needles. “It’s okay, Prince Hardeep. They don’t hurt. Your fever will break with just a few needles.”
Behind me, the guards muttered. They were finding their feet.
“I will be all right.” Prince Hardeep pushed himself off my lap and scuttled back. “I just need some rest. You, too. It has been a long day of hard practice. Rest and don’t practice again tonight. I will find a way to meet you tomorrow.”
Secretary Hong looked at us. The wrinkles around his eyes and jowls stood out in lines of black against his wan complexion. He turned, shuffled back toward the entrance, and beckoned someone in.
A palace official, a Foreign Ministry secretary from the markings on his robes, entered and bowed low. “Lord Peng petitioned the Emperor. He has graciously allowed the Blind Musician to stay in these guest quarters.”
Outside the doors, other officials were taking down Madura’s banners. Such an honor! Guest quarters were usually reserved for visiting dignitaries from Cathay’s largest trading partners, and certainly not for a musician with no name. If Hardeep were on the palace grounds, there might be some way to meet again tonight. Even if this pavilion was a good walk from the inner castle and imperial residence.
Gaining his feet, Hardeep pressed his palms together. “I thank you for your hospitality, but my effects are in Lord Peng’s villa. I will retire there for the night.”
The secretary clucked his tongue. “To refuse the Emperor’s hospitality would be in very poor form. We have a fine meal prepared for you, as well as several Night Blossoms from the Floating World.”
My stomach twisted into a tight knot. Renowned for their beauty and grace, the Night Blossoms would make Hardeep forget all about me. Not to mention they would freely offer what I could not.
Maybe I could.
Nineteen
Women’s Secrets
Approaching the Phoenix Garden with the two imperial guards and Secretary Hong, I listened to the stream rustling toward the courtyard’s central pond. Still, all I could hear were my inner insecurities. The beautiful and elegant Night Blossoms would make my Hardeep forget all about my flat body and plain face. Maybe he was already wrapped in their arms, preparing to personally hand me to Lord Tong.
I blinked away the tears blurring my vision. Another beauty came into focus, rubbing salt into my self-confidence’s open wound. Wearing an elegant floral gown, Crown Princess Xiulan sat in an open pagoda overlooking the pond. Several handmaidens, including Meiling, stood at a respectful distance. Two of my imperial guards at the edge of the garden melded with the background. The scent of roasted pork and garlic-steamed vegetables wafted on a breeze.
Gently illuminated by a shuttered light bauble in the pagoda ceiling, Xiulan stood with a smile. “You’re late,” she called.
Because of Hardeep’s lessons. If only there had been more time. While Secretary Hong and the two guards came to a stop at the garden’s edge, I lowered my head as I walked up the path to the pagoda. “Forgive me, Eldest Sister.”
“Your handmaiden informed me of your…visit. Come, sit.” With a graceful wave of her hand, Xiulan indicated a porcelain garden seat by a stone table built into the center of the pagoda.
How much had Meiling said? How many ears had heard? How many people knew that a just-betrothed princess had allowed a foreign man so close? Almost close enough to touch. The memory of his lips within a hairbreadth from my neck sent my heart fluttering.
I shook the image out of my head and looked at the meal. Artfully arranged food graced porcelain dishes. My stomach rumbled in the most unladylike fashion. Playing music much of the day, and then the audience with Father in front of all the lords, had left me hungry and drained. With no semblance of grace, I plopped down.
In contrast, nonchalantly graceful as a weeping willow, Xiulan settled on her own seat. She lifted a teakettle and filled my cup. When she set the kettle down, I picked it up and poured tea into Xiulan’s cup. Some of it splashed.
How embarrassing! I bowed my head in apology.
“It’s okay.” Xiulan placed a hand on mine. “You have had a long day.”
And the last hour had felt like a full day of sweet torture. My face flushed at the thought of Hardeep. Thank the Heavens my head was down to hide it.
“You are thinking about him, aren’t you?” Xiulan’s voic
e carried concern, but no accusation. How did she know?
I let out a long sigh. “I have never met any man like him. Beyond his handsomeness, his voice is so sweet. He might be a foreigner, but his eyes hypnotize me.” Making me feel beautiful. I looked up.
Xiulan gawked, all her usual poise scattered to the four winds. It was if we were holding two different conversations. Oh, Heavens, Xiulan must not have been referring to Hardeep.
Covering my mouth, I turned to the handmaidens and guards. If they had heard… Well, Xiulan already had, Meiling already knew, and my confession had left no ambiguity.
“Oh, Heavens,” Xiulan said with a stuttered whisper. She placed a hand on her chest. “You are enamored with the foreigner.”
Enamored? It sounded so shallow. It had to be love. Yes, I admitted it. If I could lower my head any more, my face would be in the food. And my appetite had just fled with my last vestige of dignity.
Xiulan squeezed my hand. “I was mistaken.” Surprisingly, there was no rebuke in her tone.
I hazarded a glance up.
Xiulan smiled. “Let me tell you a secret. Before I was betrothed to your brother, my father’s most trusted Yu-Ming wanted me to marry his first son. He was a handsome young man, and our parents had arranged a chance meeting so no one would lose face if things didn’t work out.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “They did.”
My pulse quickened. Kai-Guo and Xiulan made such a beautiful couple, even more so considering the imperial nature of their marriage. If any relationship provided even a semblance of hope, it was theirs. To think there had been someone before. I edged forward on my seat. “What happened?”
Xiulan sighed. “The Emperor asked to strengthen the ties between our families. How could my father refuse?”
“And the Yu-Ming heir?” I tried to keep my voice low through my excitement.
“My father forbade him from contacting me.” Xiulan leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “But we maintained correspondence through one of my handmaidens and his page. It was a passionate exchange.”
Was that a suggestion to defy the Emperor’s orders and maintain an illicit communication with Prince Hardeep? I cocked my head. “And now?”
Xiulan laughed. “As soon as Kai-Guo and I were married, the lord’s son broke contact. Not for fear of punishment, but because of his integrity. He would have ended things whether my husband was Crown Prince or a beggar.”
“Why are you telling me this?” The mixed signals made frustrating knot puzzles look simple in comparison.
“No reason, except to share a secret with my little sister.” Xiulan covered her giggle. “The decision is yours. Though realistically, as an imperial princess, you would not be allowed to marry a foreigner, even if you weren’t already betrothed.”
I let a sigh escape. Of course that was the case, no matter how much I might want to believe otherwise. Hardeep and I would never be together.
“Kaiya, I used to think about that young lord in the first months of my marriage. However, I soon grew to adore your brother.”
After meeting someone as charming as Hardeep, I didn’t think I could ever love another. I peered into my teacup. “What do you know of Lord Tong?”
Breath hitching, Xiulan shifted in her seat. I looked up. Dear Sister-In-Law’s lips pursed. Her expression darkened.
“Tell me.” My voice cracked. Rebel or not, he might still be a kind man.
“His late wife was a friend of my mother. She was spirited in her youth, but marriage broke her.”
“Marriage is a woman’s grave.” My sweaty hands tightened into fists.
Xiulan shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be. No, Lord Tong is well-known for his depravity. Several of the houses in the Floating World have banned him for fear of what he might do to their Night Blossoms.”
My chest tightened. What had I gotten myself into? I summoned the memory of Hardeep, so close, nearly pressed against my back as he taught me the lute. Run away. There was still time to run away.
“Which brings me to the reason the Emperor asked me to meet privately with you tonight.” Xiulan reached back to the seats built into the pagoda’s sides and retrieved a silk-wrapped package. “Doctor Wu said Heaven’s Dew will arrive soon. I think that might explain your sudden interest in foreign princes.”
Yes, better to think of Hardeep. I eyed the vermillion silk bundle as Xiulan placed it on the table with two hands. No doubt a pillow book. With a shy tilt of her head, Xiulan gestured toward it with an appropriately delicate wave of her hand, inviting me to pick it up.
Feigning the disinterest I would have had just a few days before, I bowed my head and lifted it with the formality of a minister accepting an imperial decree. Hidden beneath my silk gown, my heart pounded. I unwound the red cord bindings, then the silk wrapping. The light green cover was innocuous enough, save for the title Cloud Rain, emblazoned in gold characters.
“It’s fairly new,” Xiulan said. “By imperial palace woodblock artist Gao Liang. It was presented to your mother thirty years ago, when she married the Emperor. Open it.”
Cheeks hot, I opened it somewhere in the middle. I sucked in a sharp breath. The imperial archives might boast the largest collection of books in the world, but no doubt, this particular book wasn’t kept there.
Glimmering in vibrant colors, a man and woman were locked in an embrace with lifelike radiance. Not only that, their mutual affection spilled off the page. Just looking at it brought labored breaths. Heat surged inside of me. It seemed remotely similar to the emotions Hardeep stirred in me. If it were the two of us, acting out the image in the book…his weight on top of me… Biting my lip, I tried not to squirm.
Pulling her gaze away from the page, Xiulan wiped her brow. “Palace artist Gao Liang could infuse his art with emotion-evoking magic. When I say how I grew close to the Crown Prince so quickly, I would credit this book for part of it.”
How dangerous was that? Both dangerous and helpful, depending on the circumstance of a marriage. Thoughts of Hardeep’s closeness earlier in the day mingled with the book’s magical impact on me. Him, behind me, chest nearly pressed to my back. I shut the book and fanned myself with it. “Thank you for your gift.”
Xiulan bowed her head. “Perhaps this will make your marriage to Lord Tong more palatable.”
Him again. Faceless up to now, my inevitable destiny loomed in the recesses of my mind like the mythical Black Fist spies. I set the book down as if it were a hot plate. If it couldn’t be with Hardeep, perhaps it would be better to take the tonsure and live life out as a nun. Though it was unlikely anyone would let me do it, since my value as a princess was determined by whom I could marry.
Unless I could revive a long-dead art. Something I had already started, with Hardeep’s help. On the table, the pillow book’s gold lettering beckoned me. Heat and desire cascaded through me. Tonight, I’d give myself to Hardeep, and no one would have to know. I just had to get to him before the Night Blossoms did.
Twenty
Indecision
From where I stood just outside the double doors to the Hall of Pure Melody, I listened to the arrhythmic clops of boots across the central courtyard. There marched a contingent of imperial guards, casting long shadows from the blue and white moons.
Every nerve tingling with desire for Hardeep, I couldn’t return to the imperial residence. Not tonight, or at least not now. Once behind those walls, there would be no getting out until morning, and he’d forget all about me.
My stomach twisted into a knot again, as my better sense warred with the primal urges brought on by the pillow book. I’d strong-armed Secretary Hong into allowing me to come here, ostensibly to retrieve a book from the music library. From his wringing hands, no doubt he thought me insane given the trouble caused by visiting the day before. The poor old man seemed tired all the time, but ever since I played the lute for Hardeep, he looked as if he might keel over and die.
The two guards, as well, lacked their usual comp
osure. Shoulders slumped and heads hanging, they resembled the crude illustrations of the laborers who built the Great Wall six hundred years before. I closed my eyes and listened. Yes, their hearts were beating slowly and sluggishly. If they were all so tired, perhaps it wouldn’t take much more to put them into a sleep. There had been a song like that in the book…
Light, slippered feet pattered up the Hall of Pure Melody’s marble steps. I opened my eyes to find Han Meiling, cloak in hand. Bowing, she presented it.
“Come.” Legs trembling, I stepped over the ghost-tripping threshold and into the main corridor.
Secretary Hong and the two guards followed. I shuffled down the hall to the performance hall’s open double doors. If I entered without permission, it would be the second time breaking the same rule in as many days.
Was this worth the risk? Father had only suspended my death sentence as long as I remained obedient.
No, I was protected. They needed me to marry Lord Tong. I hummed the musical notes, considering. The Night Blossoms were the epitome of Cathayi beauty and grace, the exact opposite of me. Prince Hardeep wouldn’t be able to resist their charms.
Then again, that’s what men did. The Floating World wouldn’t exist without men’s urges. No, I couldn’t let it happen. With a deep breath, I entered and swept across the performance hall’s floor.
Near the center, I stopped and listened for the heartbeats of my small entourage. In this acoustically perfect chamber, they all pulsed loudly in my ears, the rhythm slow and tired.
Drawing in a quick breath, I gripped my toes to the floor and straightened my posture. I hummed the tune more loudly. Like a lullaby, it dipped and rose in gentle waves, slowing with each refrain. The men wavered in their spots.
My own stamina guttered. Maybe it wouldn’t hold out. Maybe I would pass out before they did. I forged ahead with my hum, despite my wobbling legs and heavy head. Just a little more. Like a flame burning the last of its wax, I spit out one last stanza.
