Butterfly Swords

by Jeannie Lin

  ‘Too many,’ he forced out.

  She hesitated, scanning the field before going with him. More bandits gave chase, but he drove them back with a wild swing of his blade. Then he was running. Tall grass whipped at him while his world tilted, strangely yellow and dark at the edges. He blinked and when he opened his eyes the surroundings were unfamiliar. The woman had pulled ahead and she was shouting something at him. He stumbled and the next thing he knew was the smack of solid earth against his chin.

  The muddled taste of blood and dirt seeped into his mouth. Spitting, he rolled himself over, his arms and legs dragging. He could no longer feel them. He could no longer feel anything.

  The swordswoman hovered over him, her lips moving soundlessly. He fought against the blackness that seduced his eyelids downwards, but the ground felt really, really good. Unable to resist any longer, he let his eyes close. He hoped he’d have a chance to open them again.

  The foreigner lay on his back, denting the wild grass while his breath rumbled deep in his chest. Taking hold of one shoulder, Ai Li shook him as hard as she could.

  The man was built like a mountain.

  With a sigh, she looked back at the line of the trees, head tilted to listen. No footsteps. No one chasing after them. The dense undergrowth provided cover, but if they found her she was lost. She did not know who the attackers were, but she hoped they were merely outlaws. She prayed they weren’t men sent to take her back to Li Tao.

  The men could be tracking her through the trees, but she couldn’t abandon the barbarian while he was helpless. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned back to him. At first glimpse, his pale skin and sandy hair had shocked her. When he spoke her language, she had fled like a superstitious peasant, but up close he was no ghost or demon. Just a man. A wild-looking, possibly crazed man who had saved her.

  He slept lion-like in the grass. A tawny growth of stubble roughened his jaw, making him appear as if his face was chiselled out of stone and left unpolished. Emboldened by his slumber, she reached out to push away a lock of hair to get a better look. Her fingertips grazed the edge of a scar above his ear. She recoiled and looked once more to assure herself that he was asleep. Then, with morbid fascination, she traced the line of the old wound.

  When she first noticed him skulking by the roadside, her heart had gone out to him. Here was one of the unfortunate souls forced to wander after the recent rebellions. Now she knew he was the sort of man who could rush into the thick of battle without a trace of fear.

  His hand remained curved about the hilt of his sword. A web of nicks and dents scored the blade. Her father would have called this a sword with a past, one that deserved respect. With her brothers and the men under her father’s command, she had been around warriors all her life. A fearsome swordsman like this would have to be desperate to beg for food like a peasant.

  He had come to her rescue despite his troubles. To leave him now would be dishonourable, no matter that he was a barbarian. Picking up her swords, she rose to stand guard. Her ancestors would expect no less of her. Even Fourth Brother’s spirit would understand.

  She twirled the blades restlessly, trying to attune herself to the rustle of the leaves and the scatter of bird song. The woods stretched on forever, and it seemed she would never get home. She had never done anything so wilful in her life, but Father had promised her to a man he considered an ally. He didn’t know that Li Tao was false. Not only had he been plotting against them ever since the former Emperor had died without an heir, but he’d done far, far worse. As soon as the stranger woke up, she would need to hurry home.

  The sun had slipped low to wash the grove in amber light when the barbarian finally stirred. Her long shadow fell over him as his eyelids flickered open. With a startled sound, he grabbed his sword and sprang to his feet.

  She brought her swords up defensively. For the ox that he was, the barbarian was unexpectedly agile. She had to remember that.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you risk your life to save a stranger?’

  He peered at her, struggling to focus. Then he sank back to his knees and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. ‘Please. Slowly.’

  The side of his chin had been scraped from his fall. With a lost look, he surveyed the barrier of trees, oddly vulnerable despite the sheer strength in him.

  Cautiously, she slid one sword back into her boot and searched through the knapsack slung over her shoulder. She held out a waterskin, then watched in fascination as he took a long drink, his muscles gliding with every move. Centuries-old writings proclaimed the Great Empire of the West as a land of tall, powerful giants. For once, it seemed the accounts hadn’t been exaggerated.

  ‘You stayed,’ he said with some surprise as he handed the skin back to her.

  ‘I owed you a debt.’

  The corner of his mouth lifted crookedly and his blue eyes slid over her. ‘To see you is payment enough.’

  She must have been confused by the mix of dialects and his atrocious inflection. A man wouldn’t use such sugared tones when she was disguised this way.

  She squared her shoulders. ‘Where did you learn how to speak?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You sound like you were taught in a brothel.’

  He exploded, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. ‘Can’t deny that,’ he said with a grin.

  The words of his native tongue sounded jarring to her ears, but she recognised them. ‘I can try to speak in your language,’ she offered.

  ‘You know it?’ A deep frown appeared over his forehead. ‘Few in the empire do.’

  She clamped her mouth shut, biting down on her lip. ‘My father is a tea merchant. He travels far outside the empire along the trade routes.’

  The explanation seemed feeble at best, but his expression relaxed. ‘They call me Ryam.’

  ‘Ryam.’ She tested the sound of it. ‘What does it mean?’

  He remained seated in the grass, his arms dangling carelessly over his knees. ‘It means nothing.’

  No mention of a family name as was the custom. She didn’t ask about it for fear of being impolite.

  ‘My name is Li, family name Chang. You can call me Brother Li.’

  ‘Brother? Anyone can see you’re a woman.’

  Her hand tightened on the sword. Suddenly she didn’t like the way he smiled at her at all.

  ‘I’m not going to harm you,’ he said quickly, holding up his hands, palms out. ‘I ran into a horde of men waving knives to help you, remember? You kicked me pretty hard for all my trouble.’

  She blushed, remembering exactly where she had kicked him. ‘My name is Chang Ai Li,’ she relented.

  ‘Ailey. That’s a pretty name.’

  She ignored the compliment. ‘What is a foreigner doing so deep in the empire?’

  ‘What is a woman doing travelling alone with a group of men?’

  His eyes met hers without wavering, as if she were the strange one. She was becoming more curious about him with each passing moment, but it wouldn’t do to linger out in the woods with a barbarian.

  ‘I see now that you are not hurt.’ She spared him a final glance. ‘Farewell then.’

  ‘Wait, where are you going?’

  He shot to his feet and her breath caught as he stretched to his full height before her. Her gaze lifted from the expanse of his chest to meet his eyes. They were so pale, like clear, cloudless skies.

  ‘I—I need to get back to my bodyguards,’ she stammered, her throat suddenly dry. ‘They will be looking for me.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to do that?’

  He continued to block her path. With his size he could overpower her easily, but the look on his face showed nothing but concern. Something told her he wasn’t the sort to use his strength against a woman.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘That rice was meant for you. Whatever was in there, it was enough to smuggle you out of the province before you woke up. A face like yours would fetch a
high price in the pleasure dens.’

  A sickening feeling twisted her stomach. ‘My guards would not betray me.’

  ‘How long have you known them?’

  She fiddled at the collar of her oversized tunic. Old Wu had hired those men under desperate circumstances, but she knew that loyalty could not be bought. Not with all the gold on this earth.

  ‘It’s nearly sundown,’ he said, glancing at the sky. ‘You had better stay here in case any of that scum is still about.’

  Stay the night here with him and no one around for miles? Her heart thudded as if trying to escape the tight cloth bound around her breasts. He had rescued her. She should have nothing to fear from him, but there was something primal and dangerous in him. Masculine. Yang. He stood too close, close enough for her to catch his scent—an enticing mix of leather and the autumn smell of the woods that invited her to tempt fate. She couldn’t let her guard down.

  With a steadying breath, she stepped back. ‘How can I be sure it is safe here?’

  ‘You don’t want to face those smugglers alone.’ He regarded her with a half-smile. ‘Unless you intend to fight off all of them with those knives of yours.’

  ‘They’re not knives. These are butterfly swords.’ She shoved the second blade away.

  ‘You can get back to the road in the morning,’ he said. ‘I won’t touch you if that is what you’re afraid of. I’ll start a fire.’ He moved away to gather kindling, allowing her space to consider.

  Everything he spoke of made sense. Her guards had fallen too easily. Someone among them had betrayed her. Once Li Tao discovered she was gone, he would send his men in a black swarm over the area. Instinct told her she needed to keep moving, but to where? She was stranded in the southern province with night nearly upon them and no road to guide her. She laced her hands together and lowered her head in thought.

  Her gaze drifted to the sword at the foreigner’s belt. The blade was larger than the ones used among the soldiers of the empire. A weapon designed to cleave armour and crush bone. He had wielded it with obvious skill.

  More importantly, he didn’t recognise her.

  A new plan started to form in her head. Father would call it reckless. Mother—her mother would expend much more than a single word to describe her foolishness. But what could she rely on out here besides her butterfly swords and her instincts? Even though her instincts had proven wrong with the hired guards, she had a sense of yuán fèn about this swordsman. That she would meet a barbarian, of all people, on this journey—what could that be but fate between them?

  And she had no other choice.

  Ailey paced as he gathered fallen twigs. She circled the clearing once, hands on her hips. The tips of the yellowed grass brushed over her calves. With each movement he caught hints of her shape beneath the drab clothing: tapered waist and gently rounded hips that would fit perfectly into a man’s hands. He had glimpsed the edge of the cloth wrapped tight around her breasts just below the neckline of her tunic. Already his imagination ran wild with the thought of her undressed and unbound before him.

  With one knee set on the ground, he sparked the kindling with flint and steel. His mind could wander all it wanted where Ailey was concerned. Thoughts were harmless, even heated thoughts about pretty girls lost in the woods. As long as he kept his hands where they belonged.

  The grass rustled behind him as she approached. Already he was acutely aware of her every move, his senses reaching out to search for her.

  ‘You decided to stay,’ he said over his shoulder.

  She was looking down at him with sudden interest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of interest he usually sought from a woman.

  ‘You handled yourself well against those men,’ she began.

  He shrugged dismissively. ‘Common thugs.’

  ‘And you were outnumbered and drugged as well.’

  She took a step closer. Her teeth clasped over her lower lip uncertainly while her eyes shone with hope. She had no idea what that look did to a man.

  He blew out an unsteady breath. ‘Anyone would have done the same—’

  ‘I need your protection to help me return home,’ she interrupted in a rush.

  An immediate refusal hovered on his tongue. ‘Where do you live?’ he asked instead.

  ‘Changan.’

  The imperial capital. A good week’s journey from here and in the opposite direction of where he needed to go. The area surrounding the city would be littered with imperial soldiers who would be overjoyed to see him.

  ‘I can pay you,’ she said when he remained silent.

  She pulled a silk purse from her belt and threw it to him before he could respond. The coins rattled as he caught it.

  ‘Open it.’

  The weight of it told him what he’d find before he pulled at the drawstring to reveal a handful of gold and silver. He closed it and tossed it back with a flick of his wrist. The purse landed in the dirt at her feet.

  ‘I can’t.’

  Her eyebrows shot up, puzzled. ‘You do not know how much this is.’

  ‘I know how much it is,’ he said through his teeth. ‘I don’t want your money.’

  She lowered her tone. ‘I have offended you.’

  He straightened, avoiding her eyes while needles of guilt stabbed at him, sharp and unrelenting. She didn’t know what she was asking.

  ‘I can’t go to Changan no matter what the price. And don’t go throwing your money around—what the hell are you doing?’

  She had her hands clasped together in front of her, palm to fist, head bowed humbly.

  ‘I am beseeching you as a fellow swordsman. I need your protection.’

  ‘We’re not fellow swordsmen,’ he growled. Raising a hand to the back of his neck, he pinched at the knot forming there. ‘You don’t even know who I am.’

  ‘I know we are strangers and this is an unspeakable imposition, but I must get home and I cannot make it alone.’

  Now it was his turn to pace. He could sense her hovering nearby, waiting for an answer as if he hadn’t already given it. His inability to help her tore at him. He couldn’t be responsible for Ailey. His last mistake was the deadliest in a long, winding chain of them. Whoever had decided he should lead other men must have been either drunk or daft. At least while he was alone, no one else could get hurt.

  ‘What are you doing so far from home, anyway?’ he demanded.

  ‘I help my family with our business.’

  ‘Selling tea?’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Tea.’

  ‘No respectable merchant would send his daughter out here unprotected. The imperial army no longer guards these roads.’

  ‘I was not alone,’ she insisted. ‘I was with bodyguards.’ Her voice trailed away and she pulled the cap from her head in an agitated motion. A single braid tumbled over her shoulder, black as ink. Unbound, it would frame her face like a dream.

  No. He was not going to be swayed.

  ‘If I go to Changan, I’ll be hanged,’ he said with forced coldness. ‘Is that the sort of man you want to be travelling with?’

  She tensed, but refused to back down. ‘What did you do? Did you steal something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you kill someone?’ Her voice faltered.

  ‘No.’

  She shouldn’t look so relieved. He wasn’t a thief or a murderer, but he wasn’t much better. Anger and regret flooded him all at once. ‘I made a mistake.’

  A half-witted, disastrous mistake. He should have never taken that command. He wasn’t fit to lead others. He could barely keep himself alive. The fire crackled and sputtered as it began to die.

  ‘I’ll take you to the nearest town,’ he said, tossing more wood into the fire. ‘You can find someone else to take you home.’

  After a long silence, she settled in the grass beside him and pulled her legs to her chest. She didn’t argue with him, but he could see the stubborn determination in her eyes.

  ‘I want to help. I’m j
ust not the right person to do it.’

  ‘I know you’re a good man.’

  The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting a spark of gold within the irises. His gaze strayed to her mouth despite his best intentions. Desire blindsided him, heated, unbidden and greedy.

  ‘I’m not,’ he muttered.

  Ailey shouldn’t have been alone out there, as trusting as she was. A man could easily take advantage of her. She would be silk and moonlight in his arms. A couple of hours of forgetfulness.

  He was a savage to even consider it. She was stranded and desperate. She had begged for his help and he had refused after she had shown him the only touch of kindness he’d known in a long time. The first since he had woken up in a hovel a month ago, the gash on his head still healing.

  He struggled to find something civil. ‘You’re pretty good with those swords.’

  ‘My brothers and I would practise together. I have five—had five.’ An unmistakable look of sadness crossed her face.

  ‘Where in God’s earth are they?’

  She grew quiet, scraping the toe of her boot against the dirt. ‘They’re scattered to different corners of the empire.’

  ‘I can’t believe there is no one nearby who can help you. An associate of your father’s or the town magistrate.’

  ‘There is no one.’

  She raised her chin stubbornly. His hands itched to stroke the graceful line of her neck. He could almost taste how sweet her mouth would be, innocent and untried. Grabbing a twig, he snapped it in two and threw it into the flames. Apparently he did have some principles after all. Her faith in him, misplaced as it was, humbled him.

  He drew his sword. She started at the sound, her lithe body coiled and ready. Fighter’s reflexes. The kind that took time and practice to develop.

  ‘I’m laying this down between us,’ he explained.

  Her eyes lit up. ‘May I?’

  His attempt at honour seemed lost on her. She wrapped her slender fingers around the hilt with careful reverence. Her arms sank under the weight.

  ‘It’s quite heavy,’ she murmured.