by JC Kang
A familiar voice was singing a familiar song.
Tian’s heart soared…that voice. It couldn’t be. Lord Wu’s reception was for men. And with chatter of a threat to the Emperor, he’d be sequestered behind the walls of Sun-Moon Castle. Tian turned to find the source.
The imperial flags with the five-clawed dragon fluttered above a line of blue-robed imperial guards with their Dragonscribe-etched breastplates. The awe-inspiring magic infused within sent a chill up his spine. No wonder all the people were bowing. The largest palanquin in the formation, borne by twenty and wide enough to seat six, had its narrow window open. Though it was impossible to see who was inside, the voice and song were unmistakable. Princess Kaiya was there, singing Yanyan’s Lament. A ballad about the legendary Dragon Charmer, who’d sung the Last Dragon Avarax to sleep, they sang it together when she was scared or sad.
Princess Kaiya. Oh, to look into her eyes again! But no. To do so would mean death, and the failure of his mission. Heart racing, he swallowed hard and dropped to his knees, behind a pair of bowing women.
The notes floated out, riding on the wind so thick, he might be able to actually touch them. His pulse quickened. Around them, people looked up from their bows, faces filled with wonder.
When she came to the refrain, Tian joined in, as he always did. Together, they would raise each other’s spirits.
The singing stopped.
Tian covered his mouth. Heavens. He’d just revealed himself to her.
“Halt,” Princess Kaiya said.
What had he just done?
Her large, beautiful eyes appeared in the window slowly. She was looking in his general direction, irises roving, but not finding him.
Tian’s stomach clenched as the procession ground to a stop. The princess’ palanquin door slid open before the runner could open it himself. The princess stumbled out, and her legs uncharacteristically wobbled as she stood. She looked abnormally pale, and sweat clung to her brow.
Was she sick? Every instinct screamed to go to her side, but in that second, everyone pressed their forehead to the ground.
Tian followed suit, but there’d been a split second where he’d been looking up, dumbfounded. Maybe she’d seen him.
✽ ✽ ✽
Alone, without Tian to help entice Steward Zhu, Jie decided to get more information before coming up with a plan of action. Listening through the evening chatter, picking out scents hiding among the aromas of cooking food, she crept to the courtyard home directly across from the Lord Shi’s. With no sign of a tail, she tied her skirts between her knees. She scaled the rear building, which formed the outer wall of the compound.
Making it to the top, she kept low on the tile roof, leaped over the eight-foot gap, and seized the sill of a dark second-floor window on the main building. She pulled herself up, then continued the climb to the roof. The new vantage point gave a good view of the back half of Lord Shi’s courtyard home.
Light baubles shone in the windows of the east wing, and the smoke curling off the side of it suggested it held the kitchens. And likely the old servant, cooking for the steward and remaining guard. There didn’t look to be—
“Miss Li.” Though unseen from this angle, the gate guard spoke in an echoing voice.
The steward hustled out of the east wing, headed south, and disappeared behind the front building.
Jie closed her eyes and listened.
The mid gate swung open, followed by the front gate.
“Miss Li, the lord told us to expect you. Come in, come in. We’re just getting ready to eat.”
The lord? Had he stayed back, turning down the honor of attending Lord Wu’s moons-viewing reception in favor of a tumble between the sheets? Though if he were here, surely the bauble lamps in the main building would be unshuttered?
Steward Zhu reappeared, this time with a Tang Li a few steps behind. For now, their path only provided a view of her back; but in the two years since she’d left the Chrysanthemum House, her hair still looked black and glossy in the moons’ light as ever.
It was time to formulate a plan. One guard, the old servant, the steward, and Tang Li. The guard was on the outside, and wouldn’t be an issue if she didn’t use the front gate. The servant, steward, and Tang Li could be moving around, but Jie would likely be able to hear them, and slide out a window or under furniture if they were close to discovering her. It was a matter of luring the steward into a secluded area, choking him out, and taking his key. If only Tian had acquired a fake key and brought it to her, she could swap it out, and the steward might never know. As it was, she might have ten to fifteen minutes to unlock the safe…and she still didn’t know what time.
She climbed down from the roof and alighted on the outside of the compound. Listening and sniffing for possible tails, she worked her way around to the alley behind Lord Shi’s home. Again, she climbed the outer wall and worked her way across the rear building, listening, sniffing, and watching the main residence for signs of life. Satisfied it was empty, she jumped to a second-floor windowsill. This time, instead of continuing to the roof, she slipped in through the window.
It appeared to be a private study, with a tidy writing desk by the window and bookshelves on two of the walls. A door lay directly ahead. As was to be expected with austere and practical Northerners, the room lacked paintings, rugs, or any other kind of decoration.
Careful not to disturb the desk, Jie leaped over it and landed without a sound on the wood floors. She turned back and studied the desk. A letter organizer was built into the top, and there appeared to be plenty of correspondence. Lord Yang Ken, Lord Tong Baxian, and the deceased Lord Ting had all written poetry. Unless they were involved in some epic poetry duel, it had to be some coded language.
All four were long-time confidantes of the Emperor, helping to keep order among the dozen fiercely independent Northern lords. They’d even travelled with him all over the country. Just what secrets could Lord Shi be keeping in his safe?
Jie padded over to the bookshelf. The books were arranged in an orderly fashion, with none showing signs of having been pulled more recently than the others. From the titles, Lord Shi looked to be well-read in history, strategy, and agriculture. Strange, in that Jinjing County, like much of the North, was known more for its mountainous terrain and wispy trees than for farmland.
The door to the study was locked. Listening to make sure no one had come into the main building, Jie turned the bolt. The door creaked as she opened it, making her wince. She slipped out and into the hall, then used her lockpicks to relock it.
Tian had said the halls didn’t have nightingale floors, so she tiptoed over to the northwest door. The lock was so simple, it was a wonder anyone had even bothered to install one. It yielded to her lockpicking skills in a few seconds, and she darted in.
The room was just as Tian described, with sparse decorations. At the moment, only the muted light from the Iridescent Moon peeked in through the south window. She went over to that window and hazarded a glance out.
Unlike the neighbor’s rooftop, which provided only line of sight on the rear half of Lord Shi’s compound, this window had a commanding view of the entire courtyard, the east and west wings, and the front inner wall and front building.
The old servant, Steward Zhu, and Tang Li all sat at a simple table, chopsticks in hand as they picked food from shared plates and shoveled rice from plain porcelain bowls. The angle provided a side profile of Tang Li and her high-bridged nose and smooth skin. She hadn’t been the most beautiful of the Blossoms when she’d lived in the Chrysanthemum Pavilion—that honor belonged to Lilian, the Corsage—but she was pleasant on the eyes, even two years later. She sat up straight compared to the others, as a Blossom would.
Jie sucked on her lower lip. Something had been niggling at her, and now it hit her: even for a Northerner, Lord Shi bought the humblest of things. With the exception of Tang Li herself, everything was so plain.
Squirreling away the observation to the back of her b
rain, Jie headed over to the hanging scroll and the safe behind it. Though her mind’s eye wasn’t as exacting as Tian’s, the lopsided painting angle he’d described looked to be the same here. Lord Tong had not opened the safe since the afternoon—perhaps he couldn’t, with the Iridescent Moon out of phase with the moonstone.
Her heart started to race. Soon, very soon, she’d find out more of Lilian’s story. She shifted the painting to the side, revealing the safe, framed by the brittle light from the Iridescent Moon. The moonstone lit up, its colors shifting and swirling.
The key didn’t fit in the top hole, so she tried the second.
It didn’t fit either.
She sucked on her lower lip. One hour.
They had a one-hour window to open the safe, and they didn’t even know when.
Chapter 13
Though they certainly had the stamina to jog the rest of the way, Wen and the others found rickshaws and rode. Their dresses weren’t meant for running, and it wouldn’t do to arrive at the moons-viewing party to seduce lords all sweaty. Without money, she offered a jade bracelet as payment; the drivers accepted kisses instead.
Located where the Jade River emerged from Sun-Moon Lake, the Songyuan Quays were the main freight docks for transporting goods between the capital and the seaport of Jiangkou. Now, instead of dockworkers loading and unloading freight, there were guards and porters milling around palanquins, sedan chairs, and horses. Wen wrinkled her nose. Even with all the pomp, the area still smelled of hard labor.
While one would normally find cargo boats docked here, Wen noted not one, but two enormous barges. Long and flat, with one-level sterncastles taking up a third of their sterns, both had banks of oars below the main deck. One flew a blue flag with a white ship, marking it as the property Lord Wu’s Zhenjing Province; the other boasted a white five-clawed dragon on a blue field, the mark of the Emperor himself.
Wen exchanged glances with Meisha. “You said Lord Wu was holding a reception. If the imperial barge is here, wouldn’t the Emperor be the host?”
“I don’t know.” Shaking her head, Meisha scanned the docks. “If the Emperor, or any of the Imperial Family is here, our brothers and sisters should be, too. There.”
Wen followed the tilt of Meisha’s head to the deck of the imperial barge, where Elder Brother Dun Lai was disguised as a deckhand in imperial livery.
“He’s so handsome,” Yangyang said. “I hear he’s good between the sheets.”
Wen’s face scrunched up.Dun Lai had a symmetrical face with large eyes and strong chin. However, he was a bully, and he’d tormented Lilian for years at the temple. She scanned the head of the dock, where Elder Brothers Chong Xiang, Zu, and Li were similarly dressed, checking lords’ families as they boarded.
“Look,” Yangyang said, pointing to the other barge. “Lord Shi and his son are already aboard.”
Whereas the imperial barge was full of women and children, with a handful of the most powerful hereditary lords, there were a couple dozen minor lords and their older sons lounging around the other. Most of the women mingling with them were Blossoms from the Floating World Houses. Lord Shi was chatting with Lord Yang of neighboring Chengfu County—both close confidantes of the Emperor—while his son hung in their shadows.
Grinning, Meisha adjusted her clothes. “Shall we?”
“We need to wait for Tian,” Wen said. Without a fake key, they wouldn’t be able to swap it out with Shi Han so that he wouldn’t realize it was missing.
“Where is he?” Yangyang asked. “Are those fake dwarf keys that hard to find?”
“Look.” Meisha gestured to the city walls. “The imperial procession.”
Three palanquins surrounded by two dozen imperial guards passed through the walls. One was larger than the others, likely bearing the Emperor and Empress. Elder Brothers Zhang, Shun, and Ling blended in among the palanquin bearers. The guards, porters, and servants already at the docks all bowed low as the procession arrived.
Wen tugged at her pinkie. It was madness for the Emperor to come out from the impregnable gates of Sun-Moon Castle with a potential threat; but perhaps it was meant to project confidence to the lords.
She let out a sigh of relief as Tian appeared, trotting along the edge of the light cast by multiple light baubles. He’d lost his excess weight so fast, and though he looked winded by the time he reached them, he wasn’t hands-on-knees, heaving for air.
“Did you acquire a key?” she asked.
He held one out. “I overheard the imperials talking. It turns out Lord Wu gifted a barge to the Emperor. A surprise.”
“And His Eminence came out for its maiden voyage?” Yangyang asked.
“No. Just the two princes and…” He shuffled on his feet. “And Princess Kaiya.”
The way he said her name carried a fondness. Had he known the princess well? Rumor had it she didn’t share her family’s good looks, but possessed an exceptional singing voice. She took the key and patted him on his head. “Why the larger palanquin, then?”
He shrugged. “It’s only her inside.”
It was strange for anyone other than the Emperor himself to ride in that palanquin. A daughter by herself, no less…
“All right,” Yangyang said. “We need to board now. If we can swap the key before they push off, it will be all the easier to get it to Tian.”
“I’ll wait over there.” Tian gestured to the horses.
Getting aboard proved easy. After passing a few signals to a clan brother at the head of the dock for the imperial barge, confirming he couldn’t reassign assets to their mission, they came to Lord Wu’s barge. A pair of porters in Lord Shi’s brown livery trudged ahead of them, lugging a keg labeled wheat wine, Jinjing County. The grains and whorls in the white wood indicated it was made of yue.
“What is this?” a page asked.
“Red wheat wine, a gift from Lord Shi,” said one, voice straining.
The page looked up from a scroll. “I don’t see it on the list.”
The porter tilted his head toward the other barge. “It’s good enough for the Emperor.”
With a harrumph, the page gestured them across the gangplank, then froze as Wen approached. His eyes predictably settled on her chest. “May I help you?”
“We were invited by Lord Wu to come entertain. I am Dan Wen from the Peony Garden. This is Bai Yangyang from the Lily Pond, and Lan Meisha from the Orchid Palace.”
“Uh…” The man fumbled to another scroll. His gaze roved over the names on the guest list before lifting to meet hers. “I don’t see you on the list.”
“We received a late invitation.” Wen looked up through her lashes, while Yangyang and Meisha slipped their arms into the crook of her elbows and pressed their own breasts against her.
He swallowed hard, making no attempt to hide the fact he was ogling their bodies. “I…”
You have him, Yangyang tapped. “Would you look again?”
Locking her gaze on him, Wen claimed the space between them and brushed a finger over his hand as she touched the list. “Oh, there we are.”
“Yes,” he droned without looking down, “there you are.”
He’s aroused, Meisha swept a finger into the small of Wen’s back. If he hasn’t already wet himself.
Whether he had or not, it was impossible to tell because of the way the scroll dangled in front of him. He stepped to the side. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you.” Wen batted her eyelashes a few times before leading the other two over the gangplank. His gaze weighed on the sashay of her hips as they boarded.
About twenty feet wide, the deck itself must’ve stretched several dozen paces to the sterncastle, its smooth eldarwood planks freshly stained. The heady wood scent hung in the air.
At least thirty county lords lounged on cushioned chaises, with cups in hand and Blossoms in laps. Male servants in Lord Wu’s blue livery moved about with decanters, pouring wine. And there, near the—bow, did they call it?—were Lord Shi and Lord Yang o
n their own seats, chatting with each other as their sons behind them shared dour looks.
“Look at them,” Yang was saying, gesturing to a group of lords closer to the sterncastle. “Faking loyalty and kissing up to Young Lord Wu.”
Wen followed the motion and studied the men. Some were familiar, all lords of the North who frequented the Floating World. Most were descended from loyalists of the previous Yu Dynasty, their ancestors too powerful for the Founder to execute and incite uprisings; but fearful enough that they accepted the loss of their bountiful fiefs in return for lordship over the counties in the North. Instead of being incorporated into its own province, it remained under the direct administration of the capital, and a vein of resentment still ran through those weakened noble families. Wearing fake smiles now, they were bobbing their heads like pigeons at Lord Wu’s eldest son.
Lord Shi chuffed. “All the while complaining about how the rest of the empire exploits them. Lord Ting kept them in line, but now…”
“Nobody can replace Lord Ting.” Lord Yang bowed his head.
“May he rest with his ancestors,” Shi said, then looked over his shoulder at his son. “Do you hear this, Little Han? It’s now up to us to keep the North loyal.”
If Shi Han looked any more bored, moss might grow on him. He gave an unenthusiastic nod. “Yes, Father. You say it all the time, how you will one day rule the—”
“Shut it,” Lord Shi hissed.
“Oh, we all know. Lord Tong is trying hard enough.” Lord Yang waved a hand in the direction of the lords.
“One of us has to,” Lord Shi said, with maybe a little too much ambition in his voice.
Wen found Lord Tong among the group. With his flat, round face and pudgy nose, the forty-four-year-old looked more like a Southerner than a Northerner; and he had a reputation in the Floating World for enjoying rough pleasures. Luckily for the Blossoms, he very rarely visited. Despite this, his loyalty, along with Yang’s, Shi’s, and the late Ting’s, was unquestioned. If Lord Ting had been the bedrock on which the North was built, the other three were the pillars.
