by T. A. Miles
Regardless, Xu Liang’s station would not allow him the luxury of prolonged subtlety. His intentions could not be withheld or veiled. He had already mentioned that he intended marriage for the sake of avoiding rumors of indiscretion or secrecy on his or Shirisae’s part. He had also made mention of it because, of the options facing them, he would—with certitude—prefer to marry her than to denounce that he loved her, or to have that love relegated to familial. It was an unexpected path, but it was one he set himself upon without hesitation when it was presented to him by Shirisae. He had never considered what he would want in a wife in the past, but he was easily able to discern that with Shirisae, he had someone who had already helped him to carry his heaviest burdens and who was able to show him joy in spite of them.
ALERE COULD DETECT well before their allies passed beneath the gates to return victorious to the Imperial City that more than a battle had been accomplished. The Phoenix had brought Xu Liang and Shirisae together. At first, Alere wanted to believe that it was by her insistence, but even if he wanted to begrudge Shirisae in such a manner, he could not discredit the ability of Xu Liang to make a decision that aligned with his heart. The mystic’s entire existence seemed driven by that ability, in spite of the renown he’d gained as a man of intellect first.
Unfortunately, the complications of a decision to unite east and west—let alone elf and man—in matters of the heart were potentially greater even than forming a union of sacred blades.
ALL THE SATISFACTION of a victorious return had drained from Xu Liang mere hours after the arrival across the Celestial Dragon Bridge. His eyes had first sought his empress, and it was in finding her that all other reunion became merely a background noise, from which he could only think of detaching himself as quickly as possible. He did so, apologizing to his friends before returning to his home and preparing for an audience with Song Da-Xiao. Achieving the audience required waiting for the Empress to be prepared as well. He waited in her study for over an hour, anticipating what of several potential topics might have been upsetting her. He was astonished at the claim Song Da-Xiao made of a lack of worth.
He stood several paces from her with his head bowed for a lengthy period of overcoming that she had not only said such a thing, but felt it legitimately. Many words came, but he had no desire to demonstrate anger. It reminded him of many such moments in the presence of Song Lu, where he stood in forced silence, withdrawing feelings of anger over what had come to feel too personal. It was more than once that Song Lu had succeeded in making him feel undermined and disregarded. In those moments, his prince had tended to react explosively. It had been his response to other strains between them as well, strains which Xu Liang had been answerably naïve about. He could scarcely contend with the way Song Lu’s behavior, on reflection, seemed more a betrayal of their friendship and of Xu Liang’s trust. The manner in which the thought manifested, so pronouncedly and for the first time, alarmed Xu Liang. He would not allow the tone of his thoughts to impose upon Song Da-Xiao. Still, it was difficult for him to fully retract his disappointment over the words she had offered.
“You bear the burden of leadership,” he finally said to his empress. “Even as the bearer of a weapon you will never wield against an enemy, you must guide the one who will carry that weapon, through wisdom and the strength of your spirit.”
“I feel that I am never at your side as the others are,” Song Da-Xiao said.
And Xu Liang said immediately, “I am always at your side.” He looked at her, unable to cover his frown, though he tried to maintain an even tone of voice. “Even when I am not present in body, I am always with you, supporting you. In that way, we are always together.”
“Are you in love with Shirisae?” Song Da-Xiao insisted upon knowing. She did so with an expression that was both impatient and afraid. She was impatient for a truth that she feared, but that she had come to believe was, in fact, true. Since he had said nothing to her on the matter, by letter or otherwise, he could only assume that someone else had.
Of course, he should not have hoped that rumors of that nature would wait to be carried. Once more, he felt undermined, but this time by the people beneath him. He appreciated that many felt optimism or joy over his potential union, but in their joy was sabotage. Sabotage against him, against Shirisae, and against the Empress. Xu Liang could not proceed without her blessing and the Empress would not give her blessing if she felt something amiss or threatening.
And, with all of that understood, Xu Liang would not deny or hide what he felt. He had done so with Song Da-Xiao’s brother, allowing Song Lu to make his own determinations. Though he had loved Song Lu very much, his love—for all of the Song—had always been purely familial. That he had drawn such strong affections from both of the youngest of them within the Imperial City was in no way expected or sought. At one time, he could have been content to have been adopted by their father, but it was their father who sternly reminded Xu Liang that he owed the loyalty and affection of a son to the father who raised and supported him. He had never felt shame so articulately, and it was also in that moment that it was incidentally decided that Xu Liang’s role in the Imperial City was to be one of support. If he had been intended to ascend—as some had begun insisting since Sheng Fan acquired an empress—then Song Bao would have taken Xu Liang’s childish comment under consideration, regardless of the innocence and foolishness behind its delivery. Instead, Song Bao reminded him of his place.
Xu Liang still regarded Song Bao paternally, and he continued to feel connected to each of his children as siblings, but he was not actually a member of the Song family and he would not become one through marriage. He had been of the impression that Song Da-Xiao had already released him from that option. And now she seemed determined to force hurt upon herself.
When he delayed answer for too long, she said, “How is it that Shirisae is your wife?”
Xu Liang closed his eyes, drawing a calming breath. When he looked at his empress again, he said, “She is not my wife. I would seek your blessing before seeking such an arrangement.”
And it was in his answer that Song Da-Xiao seemed to find what she had been looking for. Anger dashed across her young features, and it was swiftly followed by depression. What surprised Xu Liang was the manner in which that depression seemed to flower, rather than wilt, giving rise to resignation. In the moment, her expression of it was beyond her young years. Xu Liang felt as if their last conversation on marriage had been a pathway to a portal of understanding, through which they may have just passed. On the other side, it was not nearly so bleak as she might have convinced herself. Perhaps, in a way she had found some freedom from him. The idea filled Xu Liang with conflicting hope and unsureness.
“I’m concerned that marriage would only hinder you at this time,” she said, with more strength than Xu Liang had expected in the moment. “Though, I will not begin to doubt your sensibilities and judgment now. I will share your faith in Shirisae…and I will grant favor upon your betrothal. It will be entered into the Celestial Calendar by the Minister of Ceremonies. Your union will take place in summer of the two hundred and eightieth year, under the guidance of Cheng Yu.”
Xu Liang bowed low, accepting her decree and feeling simultaneously that he had formally been released from her youthful aspirations. Unexpectedly, he also felt freed from Song Lu’s ghost, which was in actuality not a ghost, but only his guilt over an area of communication for which he had consistently struggled to achieve grace. In this, Song Da-Xiao surpassed him, and was her father’s daughter.
“Your current living arrangements are unsuitable for a betrothed pair,” the Empress said next. “Shirisae will take residence among my handmaidens.”
A frown came to Xu Liang’s mouth, with words of disagreement forming behind it, but he withheld them. He had already considered leaving his house temporarily to his guests and finding new residence for himself for a time. Relocating Shirisae came with concern over her role as a bearer, and the role she held for he
rself simply as a Phoenix Elf and the daughter of the most exalted leader of their people. Xu Liang manifested an instant fear that an attempt would be made to render Shirisae inactive and to align her with a lifestyle that would be considered more feminine, and therefore more appropriate. But it would contradict not only Shirisae, but the title and role she had already been given. Xu Liang had no desire to lose progress that had been made in establishing her as a female with a warrior’s calling. Though it might never be so realized in Sheng Fan again, it was essential that at least Shirisae be accepted and remembered, throughout the eras of the Empire, as an active bearer of a Celestial Blade. She would never accept a champion, besides, nor any less of a role than what she currently played. It would create untold turmoil, undermining all that had been worked for.
That was the immediate response in Xu Liang’s heart, but he would not demonstrate it. He formulated a balanced reply. “I think it would be unwise to segregate the bearer of the Storm Blade from the others for an extended time.”
“It would be for the duration of your engagement. And I would utilize such time to better orient myself with a woman who I should perhaps not be afraid of, but from who I should be taking guidance.”
Xu Liang straightened, so that he might see the expression on his empress’ face. It was not one of scorn or indignation, but one of sincerity. Again, he was able to see her father. It filled him with optimism that validated the struggle on behalf of the Song. “I will speak with Lady Shirisae at once,” he promised.
Song Da-Xiao entrusted him with her decree with a nod, then said, “There will be retaliation over the success at Fa Leng. You must attend to these matters as well, and swiftly. I will also require your advice regarding Du.”
Personal affairs were immediately set aside. “What has happened?”
Song Da-Xiao looked to him with a more familiar expression of fragile poise overtaking the strength of bearing she had manifested previously. She said, “Xu Hong has threatened rebellion. He is motivated by the presence of the barbarian generals.”
REVIEWING THE AFFAIRS of the court with Er Chiong and Chancellor Hao Feng, Xu Liang learned that support regarding the near decimation of the west court of the Imperial City had been properly given by the kingdoms of Ying and Tzu, and that Du had done so grudgingly and with threats. It was no worse than Xu Liang had expected from his father, and amelioration was offered by way of a letter requesting a full account of any grievances Xu Hong may have had and what solutions he felt would be fair. He would not be overly accommodated, but excessive accommodation tended not to be what Xu Hong was after. The Du Governor had a long-standing habit of becoming louder during periods of strife involving another kingdom. He had been quite vocal throughout Xun’s rebellion. Some believed it was owed to some grief over Ha Sheng’s death—the two were known friends—and Xu Hong’s sentiments that Ha Ming Jin was not being dealt with forcefully enough. Xu Liang tended to assure his father that Ha Ming Jin had been consistently handled with the same immediacy and strength as he had been whenever Du rose up in armed protest. It was true that the territory of Du was the smallest, but it was also true that Xu Hong was heavily relied upon for matters concerning very active outside borders. The Western Kingdom neighbored both Aer and Neidra. In the past, Neidra had been exceptionally aggressive toward both Du and Tzu. Xu Liang reminded that no one had forgotten his heroic deeds during the Jungle Assaults while simultaneously enforcing that there was no need to draw more territory into Du’s boundaries by syphoning it from Ying.
Unfortunately, Xu Liang understood too well the competition and animosity between Xu Hong and Xiang Wu. At times, they each attempted to gain Xu Liang’s favor and at times, they both disregarded his advice altogether and sought to attain their goals through overriding his station. Xiang Wu’s most recent attempt to coerce the Empress had been particularly subversive, and offensive. Still, the matter had been resolved to the Empress’ satisfaction and it was unlikely that it would be brought up in any official capacity on her behalf.
Tzu’s complacency remained both dubious and disturbing to Xu Liang. He would advise the Empress to send agents to observe the tone of the Yuan family through interaction with the kingdom’s citizens. As to Xun…they could only wait for a response to the imperial decree that would be composed and delivered within the month, insisting upon an end to Xun’s insistence to act autonomously and in defiance of the Five Kingdoms Resolution and the Empress. An order was included to announce the whereabouts of Han Quan.
It had taken three days to fully attend to the Empress’ most urgent affairs. Xu Liang had spent the majority of that time away from his home and when he returned, he apologized to his allies. It was the start of completing one more task.
THE NIGHTS HAD become too cool to allow Xu Liang’s garden to be a pleasant retreat for long intervals. Even Taya had resorted to hurrying on her missions to harvest one herb or another. Yet, Shirisae and Xu Liang had been outdoors among the lanterns and turning trees and bushes for quite some time. In fact, they had ventured into the deeper paths, well out of view. Tristus was not a complete fool—he had some ideas as to what topics may have required such a lengthy and private conference—but nearly all of the possibilities that came to mind worried him. The pair of them had been gone for over a month on a military expedition. There was no telling what they might have experienced, or what it might have meant for the rest of them.
“I’m sure it has to do with the Phoenix,” Taya said. The young dwarf was currently knelt upon a pillow in the common room, occupying her hands with the portioning out of leaves she had previously dried.
“I hope it’s nothing severe,” Tristus replied, contemplating the amount of things regarding that particular entity that could have risen to tragic complications.
Taya glanced up, but had little else to say.
Tarfan merely shrugged, indicating that he was no better informed, and Alere and Guang Ci could not be bothered. The both of them were caught up in a game of stones on a board that for some reason the elf showed a pronounced interest in. Since Guang Ci had introduced it to them, Alere had been intrigued by the elusive strategy behind its premise. Tristus had never been particularly fond of most games, and had spent such time studying. It had worked rather well for the three of them, as Tristus had been able to insert words for study between turns. Unfortunately, study could not distract him now.
“It’s probably the Phoenix,” Taya reiterated, undoubtedly in an attempt to console them both.
Tristus showed her appreciation by laying his hand briefly upon her shoulder in passing. He’d been unable to sit or stand still since Xu Liang had requested that Shirisae join him in the garden.
Very little had been detailed of their experience. Tristus and the others had learned more of Ma Shou’s reappearance and were told of a visit to the School of Seven Mystics, which had entailed the sighting of a dragon. Xu Liang had painted a rendition of it for them, calling it a cloud dragon. It was a remarkable notion; that a beast of such stature could linger in hiding among clouds formed of its own breath. Tristus wished he could have been witness to it. He was mystified by the benign nature Xu Liang had described, particularly after their previous encounter with a related creature. He wondered what it might mean and whether or not it would be seen again. Most dragon encounters tended to be singular experiences, not to be repeated in the lifetime of many who witnessed them. Tristus noted that Xu Liang had been witness to three adult dragons thus far.
Taya may have been right. Everything might very well have had to do with the Phoenix.
SHIRISAE FELT disarmed.
Xu Liang had spent the last several minutes gently telling her that when she had bargained not to lose a month or more with him at the start of autumn, she had set herself up for losing several months. And by sacrificing those months, she had managed to negotiate for an open-ended period of time. The man she had at first been inclined to ignore—possibly to scorn—who she had later determined to discover, who might have
eluded her until the end of his days if not for the Phoenix… That man at some point had turned toward her, met her halfway on the path to discovery, and taken her hand. He was telling her that she could have the rest of his days…in marriage.
It was what she wanted. She had convinced herself, however, that she had come to an impasse. That impasse was Sheng Fan, and the clear fact that consummation of a marriage determined by her deity would have been indefinitely blocked by the prevailing protocol of an empire. Except now it wasn’t. She had only to embrace the culture Xu Liang belonged to. The Empress’ conditions were no more and no less than a call for what was considered essential decency among these particular humans.
Shirisae believed that the most disarming factor was that she was willing…with or without the Phoenix. She scrambled internally to hold onto the ties that would forever connect her to her family at Vilciel. “What would this mean for the Swords?”
Xu Liang seemed prepared for her to ask such a question. He said, “You are Firestorm’s bearer. The weapon belongs in your hands, and it will remain in them. The Empress does not appoint a champion simply for the fact that she’s a woman—not for that reason alone. She appoints a champion to wield the Spear of Heaven because she is the Empress. Since the Sun Blade was introduced to the Imperial Family, only Song Dai has ever carried it to battle, and he was not the Emperor at the time.”
Shirisae nodded, trusting that answer.
“It has already occurred to me that you might feel compromised by marriage,” Xu Liang continued. “Perhaps, it was not what the Phoenix intended to occur between us…”
