by CK Dawn
Secretary Hong, the imperial guards, and Meiling all slumped to the ground. I did, too.
I propped myself up on my elbows to find their eyes closed, breaths shallow. Asleep? Summoning my last drop of energy, I picked myself off the ground and trudged over. My feet might be disproportionally large, but now, they also seemed to be encased in Estomari concrete.
I started to bend over to confirm they were asleep, but thought the better of it. I might very well fall over and not stand again until morning. If this were the cost of magic, it didn’t seem possible for the legendary Yanyan to sing Avarax to sleep.
Several more paces and I reached the door. I rested against the doorframe, letting my flagging strength grow little by little. I took a few minutes to consider my foolishness. In the courtyard, I’d stick out like a cloud on a sunny day.
But past the courtyard, it was all alleys between the buildings, and the guest pavilions weren’t that far away. My heart pumped faster, replacing my fatigue with nervous energy. A few more deep breaths, and I was ready to try. For Hardeep. Show him the pillow book, and perhaps he would feel the same affection.
Vitality returning by the moment, I tiptoed down the corridor to the hall’s entrance. I paused at the threshold and peeked out. A few officials walked through the courtyard, but there were no imperial guards.
Donning the cloak Meiling had brought, I pulled the hood over my head and peeked out of the hall again. The officials from before had walked even farther away, and still, no imperial guards appeared to be around. I hurried down the steps, nearly tripping on my gown along the way.
Running would certainly draw the attention of any eyes I’d missed in my initial scan, so I walked at a moderate pace. South and east towards the closest alley off the courtyard. When I turned the corner, I let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem as if anyone had seen me, or at least noted it was me.
I would be reunited with Prince Hardeep soon. The fatigue from before seemed to melt away, replaced by a renewed vigor and excitement. And need. I shuffled quickly through the alleys, pausing to look around each corner for any stray official or guard.
After several minutes, I came within two turns of Nine Courtyard. Soon, very soon! Hugging the pillow book to my chest, I took a step into an alley. I caught an imperial guard in my peripheral vision and quickly ducked back the way I’d come. How stupid of me! In my excitement, I’d forgotten to check, even forgotten to use my ears. The guard would surely challenge a cloaked and hooded stranger, carrying a mysterious bundle to the chest.
Holding my breath, I pressed back against the wall and listened. The booted footsteps…headed in the opposite direction. Not daring to let out a breath, I loosened my sweaty fists. In the future, if I were to make a habit of sneaking around, it would be worthwhile to learn the patrol patterns.
When the footsteps turned a corner, I edged forward…and paused again. Another sound lurked in the symphony of the night, somewhere behind me. I spun around to find its source.
Nothing. I surveyed the space for a few more seconds. Shaking the doubts out of my head, I continued into the alley, stopping again at the edge of the courtyard and looking at the pavilion where I’d left Prince Hardeep.
No! Girls giggled from within, mingling with a deep male laugh. My shoulders slumped. Perhaps he’d already started drinking, already started acting out pictures from the pillow book with the Night Blossoms.
Hollow in my belly, I crept from tree to tree, deeper into the garden, and then tiptoed up to the veranda that connected all the pavilions. Curiously, no guards stood watch outside. Perhaps they were posted inside.
At Hardeep’s pavilion, I pressed my ear up against the closest window’s latticework.
“Yes, lower,” Prince Hardeep said, to the giggles of at least two Night Blossoms.
One of the ladies let out a primal moan. Voice panting, she said, “Your Excellency is so well-endowed.”
If my stomach could twist any more, it could be used as a New Year’s knot decoration. I meant nothing to him beyond my ability to save his own homeland. I held a hand over my mouth.
“I didn’t know the foreigner could speak Cathayi,” a high-pitched girl’s voice said from behind.
My heart leapt into my throat. I whipped around. There was no one there. The courtyard was empty. “Show yourself.”
“Is that even the prince’s voice?” The voice changed, now sounding suspiciously similar to my own, and came from…the stone dragon overlooking the pond?
A ghost, perhaps? A chill crawled up my spine. But no, it couldn’t be. Sun-Moon Palace’s layout confused ghosts, herding them out through the alleys’ twists and turns.
“Who are you?” I hissed. Closing my eyes, I listened for a telltale breath.
There, in the eaves. Hidden in the trickling of the palace stream, quieter than the Night Blossoms making the clouds and rain, breathed a slow, light breath. I looked up, just in time to see a shadow flutter away. The breath disappeared.
Regardless who the mysterious girl was, she was right: that wasn’t Prince Hardeep’s voice in the pavilion, and up to now, all his words had been spoken in Cathayi. Steeling myself against what I would inevitably see, I burst through the doors.
There, a Night Blossom mounted the Minister of Appointments himself. Her gown hung loosely at her elbows. Another almost-naked Night Blossom lay on her side, head propped on an elbow, a hand hidden somewhere beneath the first’s gowns.
I cast my eyes at the floor. “Where is Prince…the Blind Musician?”
“Your Highness!” The minister pushed the woman off. Covering himself, he rose and bowed.
Wide-eyed, the Night Blossoms exchanged glances. The princess? one mouthed. The other nodded. They both gathered their gowns up around themselves. Kneeling, they pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Utter silence. I opened and closed my mouth. Had I gone deaf? My cheeks burned hot. Minister Hu barely covered himself with a woman’s silk gown, exposing his rotund belly. Not like I had a clear view, since I kept my gaze averted. The smell…
“Where is Prin—the Blind Musician?” I said, this time louder and with all the righteous indignation I could muster. Never mind all the rules I was breaking.
“Your Highness.” Minister Hu’s voice, usually harsh, wobbled with what could only be worry. “The musician…the musician wanted to see the moonlight over the gardens.”
I stared at his forehead. “Where are the guards? There were explicit orders that the Blind Musician stay here.”
“Yes, well…” the minister licked his lips as sweat gathered on his brow. Then, his eyebrows clashed together. “You are supposed to be dining with the Crown Princess. Why are you here?”
Both of us were in compromising positions, and now it was a battle of wills. One I refused to lose. I turned to the Night Blossoms. “Where is the Blind Musician?”
One looked up at the minister, then back. Her lips trembled. “Your Highness, the musician bribed the minister.”
Lips trembling, Minister Hu plopped to his knees and slammed his forehead to the Ayuri wool rug. “Forgive me, Your Highness. Please, please, don’t tell the Emperor.”
My jaw clenched. The ever-uptight Minister Hu, literally caught with his pants down, partaking of prostitutes meant for someone else and taking a bribe. “When will the Blind Musician return?”
“He said by dawn,” the second Night Blossom said.
I twirled a lock of my hair, so unruly compared to the Night Blossoms’ perfection. Where would Prince Hardeep have gone? Someplace with something more important than the realm’s best food and a pair of beautiful women. To think I’d almost shirked all sense of duty and given myself to him. “What are your names? What house do you come from?”
“Jasmine and Peony from the Jade Teahouse,” one said.
“Be sure to tell your proprietress what happened tonight.” I locked my glare on Minister Hu, whose head dropped again. “We will never speak of this again. And if I hear of any misfortune c
oming to the Jade Teahouse or its Night Blossoms, I will ensure that you are held responsible. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness!” He knocked his head against the floor three more times.
“Now get back to what the Emperor pays you for.” I spun on my heel and left. I might have earned a life-long enemy in Minister Hu, but as long as I ensured Jasmine and Peony shared their story among their sisters, it would be leverage to use against him. I would send a handmaiden to the Jade Teahouse in the Floating World tomorrow to confirm everyone’s wellbeing.
In the meantime, Prince Hardeep was gone, along with my impulse to escape marriage to Lord Tong. My hand strayed to Tian’s pebble. What had I been thinking? The nation’s stability relied on my sacrifice. I squeezed the pillow book, angry at myself for succumbing to its magic.
Now, I had to protect the guards and secretary from punishment. With extra spring in my step, I hurried back through the alleys with much less care than on my way.
Until the same sound as before whispered on the night’s breeze. Footsteps? Breathing? It was almost a mingling of the two. The interloper who’d spoken, perhaps. I tracked it to its source, but saw nothing. Shrugging off my suspicions, I continued to the central plaza.
Dozens of soldiers, all armed for battle, marched toward the palace entrance in exacting ranks. It was strange, for this late hour, but thankfully nobody looked in my direction. The steps to the Hall of Supreme Harmony and imperial archives stood empty. There was no activity at the Hall of Pure Melody, at least not on the outside. Had my sleeping retinue been discovered, surely there would be quite the commotion there.
What a mistake. Father had said never to use magic as a crutch. I frowned at the pillow book, which I’d planned to give Prince Hardeep in hopes that it would spark his affection for me. That wasn’t true love. No, if someone were to love me, it shouldn’t be because of some magic cut into the lines of a woodblock print. Guilt wrenched my insides.
I ran as quietly as I could. Up the steps. Through the double doors. On the other side, I blew out a breath and listened. In the central chamber, at least one of the three men snored. Other than that, no other human sounds carried through the halls. For now, at least, my most recent ill-advised escapade had gone unnoticed.
I returned to the central chamber, where Secretary Hong, Meiling, and the two imperial guards slept. I walked across the floor and bent down over one of the guards. “Wake up.”
He stretched his arms out and yawned, but then rolled over back into sleep. At his side, the other snored. Reaching out to both of them, I shook their shoulders. The second just grunted.
Sighing, I thought back to the book of musical magic. Had it told how to reverse a magically induced sleep? I mentally listed what I remembered: Inducing sleep. Evoking rage. Arousing lust. Stirring fear. But nothing on how to rouse someone from sleep. Walking back to the guards, I pondered the problem. In order to put them to sleep in the first place, they had to already be tired. Me, too. The song, like a child’s lullaby, had gone from a moderate pace to quieter and slow.
At least now my energy had returned. Meanwhile, these four had already benefited from half an hour of sleep. Maybe reversing the song would work, by starting slow and soft and increasing the tempo. Like my masters’ duet, where each part interacted with the other. It was worth a try.
First, I shook them some more, in hopes that it would bring them to the edge of consciousness. Then I squatted low, feet flat and toes gripping the floor. The men’s breaths, though light, rose and fell in near synchronicity. I hummed, setting the beat to one’s inhalations. Slowly at first; then I increased the tempo.
The first guard responded, his chest rising in faster clips. The second and Meiling soon joined him. Secretary Hong, however, remained the same, like a bass beat; stubborn, fighting against my song. I hummed louder, switching my focus to Hong’s heart.
He squirmed a little, but still showed no other sign of waking. It wasn’t working. Perhaps…I considered the storage room. A musical instrument should help magnify the effect. I started to the door.
Out in the corridor, boots clopped. Someone must have heard my song. This would not end well for my trusted servants. I dashed out of the performance hall and slid the door shut behind me. Turning, I searched for the source of the footsteps.
Cousin Kai-Long—Lord Peng. He held a light-bauble lamp in one hand, while a helmet was tucked under the other arm. Instead of court robes, he wore lamellar armor. “Your Highness, I thought I would find you here. Or at Prince Hardeep’s pavilion.”
My cheeks flushed hot. I fixated on the floor. How predictable I’d become. If he knew what I’d planned to do with Hardeep…
“Come with me.” He placed his hands on the sides of my shoulders and looked me up and down, very much like a tailor measuring me for a new dress. He pulled the hood of my cloak over my head.
I shook my head. The guards, Secretary Hong, and Meiling would all face punishment.
“There’s no time to spare.”
I searched his eyes. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
They were keeping secrets from me? “Tell me,” I said. “That is my command.”
He lowered his voice, as if the walls had ears. “Your wedding procession.”
“What?” How was that even possible?
“I am leading it. We are headed to Wailian Castle tonight. Lord Tong wants to marry you tomorrow, before Prince Kai-Wu’s wedding.”
So my marriage was going to happen, sooner than later. Much sooner. And they weren’t even going to tell me. Maybe this was Minister Hu’s revenge. Kaiya’s heart sank. “I…I will get ready.”
He shook his head. “You’re not going. They are risking a decoy instead. Now, let’s get you back to your room before anyone else starts looking for you.”
“What? A decoy?”
“It is a trick, to get us into Wailian Castle and capture Lord Tong.”
My head spun. “He won’t let that many armed men in, if any.”
“I have asked Prince Hardeep to join us. His Paladin fighting skills make him better than twenty men.”
So that’s where Hardeep had gone. Still, one man, worth twenty or even a hundred, could not fight against a garrison of thousands. Loyal men might all die, and the realm would fall into turmoil. “Take me with you. If your plan does not work, I will offer myself in exchange for your lives.”
Or use the budding power of my voice to sing Lord Tong to surrender. Some things were better left unsaid, especially if they might not be reliable.
Kai-Long shook his head. “I can’t endanger you. Now, hurry back to the residence. I have to go now, my staff is assembling.” He turned and headed back toward the entrance before I could stop him.
I looked from the doors leading out, back to the doors leading into the performance hall. Two paths lay ahead: one kept me safe but threatened the realm; the other could end the rebellion, perhaps at the cost of my dreams.
My hand closed around Tian’s pebble. There was no choice, really. I’d made my decision earlier in the day, when I sacrificed my hopes before all the hereditary lords. The difference was that now, another option lay ahead. I’d sung men to sleep. Maybe that’s all it would take to subdue Lord Tong.
Twenty-One
Easier To Be a Soldier
than a General
* * *
My heart beat with a resolute calm, drowning out all other sounds in my ears. Squaring my shoulders, I strode toward the doors out of the Hall of Pure Melody. Surely, Yang-Di, smiling upon me in Heaven, would provide a means of mingling with the procession. My wedding procession, to which I wasn’t even invited.
I peeked out. Right in front of me on the Hall’s steps, Cousin Kai-Long’s command staff assembled. He himself stood at the bottom of the stairs, addressing them from left to right. I pulled back before his gaze swept over me, but he paused. Had he seen me?
Apparently not. He continued with his speec
h. I let out the breath I held and peeked out again. Surplus equipment was stacked right by the door. Weapons, armor. A set of lamellar armor and a T-slot helm, likely for a messenger boy, appeared to be my size and lay just within reach. And how strange it was for a leader to stand at the bottom of the steps, instead of the top, leaving his men with their backs to me.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. Heaven had sent me a sign. This was the right thing to do.
When the men cheered at Kai-Long’s words, I grabbed the armor and dragged it in. It was lighter than it appeared; I’d have no problem lifting it over my head and shrugging it on. First, though, I had to consider my own clothes. The inner gown hung lower than the armor, and the silk was too strong to tear.
Slinking back to the performance hall, I bent over and relieved one of the guards of his dagger. His dao would complete the disguise, but I thought the better of it. Like the ring that marked his station as an imperial guard, the sword represented his honor.
After gauging the length of the armor on me, I cut the bottom of my inner gown. The long sleeves of my outer gown became my leggings, bound with strips shorn from its hem. I shrugged on the armored tunic, and everything more or less looked right.
Removing my hairpins, I let my hair drop to the middle of my back. Much too long. I started to cut it, as well, but paused. Untamable as it was, my hair was the only feminine thing about me. Instead, I tied it back in a pony tail, like a man. For once, it obeyed. How easy men had it.
I glanced out again. The command staff marched toward the front of the plaza, where a hundred soldiers stood in orderly ranks. A contingent of imperial guards joined in, flanking my decoy and an unfamiliar handmaiden as they marched to her palanquin.
Up on the steps in front of me, young soldiers collected the gear and supplies. One of them, a boy who might have been my twin in his armor, reached for the helm I’d planned to take. I stepped out and grabbed it.
