‘I am so sorry,’ he said, taking her face in his hands. ‘I had hoped you would send her a letter when she was ill.’
Lis shook her head slowly. ‘I didn't know.’
‘She wrote to you herself,’ he said.
Lis looked up at the empress, who turned away. ‘U’shi will take you to the shrine,’ she said and, before Lis could ask anything further, she left the palace.
‘I didn’t get any letters,’ Lis said, taking her father's hand. ‘I think they want to keep me separated from my old life. I'm not allowed to talk to anyone other than the tutors. I rarely leave the palace, and they clear the streets when I do so no one can look at me.’
Her father pulled her into a tight embrace. ‘Are you lonely here?’ he asked, pulling her even tighter against him.
‘I want to go home,’ she whispered into his chest. ‘I can’t be what they want me to be. I don’t want to be what they want me to be.’
‘I am so sorry, my daughter, that I was not able to stop this, but any sway I had with the emperor is gone.’
‘It is not your doing,’ Lis said softly. ‘The prince seemed to think I was the best fit. And the high priestess seems to have sensed something in me as well.’
Her father tensed, then stepped back to hold her at arm’s length. He searched her face, and she could feel the question he couldn’t ask aloud. As he raised his eyebrows in question, she shook her head once.
Lis gently wiped her thumbs over his worn, weathered face. She smoothed over the rough material of her uniform and took his hand, then turned for the door. ‘You may lead the way, U’shi,’ she called, her voice clearer and more confident than she felt. Her father gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they followed the maid through the garden and out of the gate.
The carriage was already waiting for them. General Zho-Hou stood by the steps, bowing low. Then he surprised Lis by stepping up and throwing his arms around her father. When her father was released, he gulped in a breath, stood back and nodded slowly.
The number of soldiers around them had increased again when Lis returned the general’s bow, accepted his hand and stepped up into the carriage. She half expected to see the prince sitting within it, but the carriage was empty. And as she made space for her father to join her, she heard the steps being pushed into place. She wanted to pull the curtain aside to be sure that her father walked with her.
She stifled a sob, feeling more alone. Her mother was gone. She looked to the empty cushions beside her, missing the presence of the prince to take her mind from it. She could hear her father talking with the general in hushed tones, and she wondered if it was good for him to walk so far.
‘The old town seems much quieter than I remember,’ she heard her father say. And she wondered if they had cleared the streets again, even though she was in her carriage.
‘The world is not what it was,’ the other man said quietly, and Lis leaned towards the opening to hear better. ‘People don’t visit like they did before the war.’
‘You said something similar on my last visit,’ her father said.
‘Perhaps I did,’ the general said. And then there was nothing more.
Lis wondered why people wouldn’t come to the capital as they once had. When the carriage stopped, she was jolted back to her reality and the reason they were there.
In the heavy silence of the temple, Lis focused on the tablet on the table in the centre of the space. The black lacquered wood stood out amongst the white stone walls, gold painted symbols marking out her mother’s name, birthplace and death. Lis felt an uncertainty as to exactly how old her mother was. It was something she should have had an idea about, but she had none.
Large, slow tears tracked down her father’s face again and she bit her lip, holding back the odd question that she suddenly seemed so desperate to know the answer to. He dropped heavily to his knees and bowed low before the memorial. Lis followed. Her own tears ran unchecked. She felt hot and cold and empty.
‘Ting,’ she whispered.
‘She is preparing for your mother’s cremation.’
Lis nodded once, taking an incense stick and lighting it. She placed it carefully in the pot beside the plaque, then took another and did the same.
‘Once I have prayed with you, I shall return home and light the fires,’ her father whispered.
Lis paused with the incense stick held out before her, but she didn’t plant it in the pot. Her hand shook with his words, as she knew she could not return with him. He knew the same. Surely, he understood that the letters had not been passed on; if they had been, Lis would have found a way to return, to see her mother one last time.
‘We are no longer your family,’ her father breathed, and she struggled with the idea. ‘It is the way of the hidden princess.’
Lis shook her head. Her hand fell, the stick slipping. A strong hand closed around hers, and she gasped at the shock of it. Prince Remi guided her hand back to the pot and, in her numbed state, helped guide the incense into the sand.
‘She will always be your mother,’ he said, a sad smile curling one side of his mouth. ‘General Long, I am sorry for your loss,’ he continued, bowing as he turned to her father, his hand still holding hers.
She looked at it then, realising as though for the first time that he held her. His hand warm and soft and oddly calming. She should be worried that he could be this close, that she might give herself away. Despite the feeling washing over her, she wanted to be anywhere but here, and she gently pulled from his grip and clenched her hands before her.
‘I have organised for an offering pot to be set up in your palace when you return. The shrine shall follow.’
‘She is not to remain in the temple?’ her father asked, his voice loud and echoing through the open space.
Lis reached out a hand for his, but he leapt to his feet.
‘Our customs are as they always were,’ the prince said quietly, standing and bowing low to her father.
‘She deserves to be in the temple,’ her father asserted.
‘She is,’ the prince said carefully, and Lis closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the mixed scents of the temple, the fruit, the incense and the variety of flowers. She wanted a cool breeze to blow over her skin, to wipe away the sick feeling that had settled on her. But even if she could muster such magic, the man beside her would cut her down without a thought. She wondered if she would make the same fizzle sound as the man in the baths, and she shivered. As she remembered his face emerging from the water, she wondered what it was they wanted from her. What he wanted from her. Were there others? He had given the indication that there were others. And that they knew what she was.
She shouldn’t be here. She wasn’t safe. She opened her eyes and took in the black lacquered plaque. ‘It shouldn’t be like this,’ she murmured.
‘If only we could influence the gods,’ the prince whispered.
Lis looked slowly around the temple, the offerings and pleas left at the feet of the gods. Wasn’t that what the people were trying to do? Asking for—wishing for—a different life?
Without a word, Lis headed out into the too bright sunlight of the day. She stood at the entrance to the temple, looking over the silent world around her and wondering how they had cleared the streets so completely. She expected the sky to be dark and cloudy, to reflect the darkness closing in on her. The carriage waited at the base of the steps, the soldiers looked out over the world and U’shi stood silent, looking at the ground. The carriage steps were already pulled down and ready for her.
As she started down the temple steps, a flash of something caught her eye. She stopped, and a pale, young face peered out at her from the shadows of a laneway that led from the square. Then a roar went up from the nearest soldier, and they were running.
Lis stood as she was, watching the frantic movement and shouts as the soldiers all ran headlong into the darkness of the lane. She heard her father’s sword before she saw him, the sound of metal o
n metal as he drew it from its sheath. He stood to one side, the prince to the other with his own sword drawn, his eyes closed. Lis studied him for a moment as a hum surrounded him.
Lis looked back to U’shi, who was now looking around the square herself, fear evident on her face and in her hurried movements. Lis’s father and the prince bundled her down the steps and into the carriage. U’shi dove in with her.
Lis didn’t know who led the horse or whether her father and the prince walked with them, but they moved quickly away from the temple. The carriage jolted over the cobbled streets, throwing her around.
‘I thought you would spend longer with your mother,’ U’shi whispered.
‘She is no longer my mother.’ Lis again closed her eyes to the world and the serious look on U’shi’s face.
‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.
Lis shook her head, listening to the wheels rattling across the streets. Multiple footsteps ran along beside them, and she was tempted to pull the curtains back and look out at the soldiers. She tried to quiet her breathing, to maintain her calm, fearful her magic would leak out into the world and the prince would leap into the carriage to push his sword into her.
She was sure she could hear the fizzle of dying magic, just as she had in the bath house.
‘Four,’ she whispered.
‘What?’ U’shi asked, her voice just as low.
Lis shook her head, but the knowledge that four of her soldiers ran with them gave her some comfort, at least from the idea that the magic ones were trying to hurt her. As well as her father and the general moving swiftly at her side.
U’shi pulled out the edge of the curtain. She stared for a moment, then moved to the other side of the carriage and did the same. ‘The general runs beside your father.’
Lis nodded. She understood her father’s pain at the loss of her mother, and she didn’t want to add to it, but it was too hard for her to think of him returning without her. He and Ting would stand by the pyre as her mother found her way to the gods. How could she have slipped away so quickly?
Perhaps Peng could be of assistance to her father. Although where he was now and what he wanted of the world, Lis didn’t know.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, dragging Lis from her thoughts. Following U’shi hurriedly from the enclosed space, Lis almost pushed her off the carriage as she tried to hand the steps down to the soldier who had appeared from the gate. U’shi rushed ahead, and her father’s hand was there to help her down.
They moved as one inside Lis’s palace, the classroom becoming a reception room. She stood back against the wall while her father talked with the prince and the general about what had happened.
‘Your Highness,’ someone called from the gate—another soldier, she guessed—and the prince moved outside. She could make out the man in the garden. His armour was shiny and bright, and again Lis found herself cursing the sunshine.
‘What did you find?’ the prince asked. Lis wondered why he had allowed this man into her garden.
‘Nothing. We saw someone and we gave chase, but he disappeared.’
‘Is someone hiding him?’
‘No one saw anything. I started to wonder if it was a mirage. That we were just expecting something. It has been too quiet.’
‘I saw him,’ Lis said, more to herself than anyone else. She looked towards her father. ‘I saw someone.’
Her father nodded once.
Too much had happened in a small amount of time, and Lis wanted desperately to sit down. Ink still marked her work and the desktop. She wondered why no one had cleaned up in readiness for her return. There was little time enough for her to learn all she must.
‘I need to return to my studies,’ she announced, straightening her shoulders. ‘I am sure you have much to prepare. Thank you, Father, for taking the time to visit with me.’ She gently touched her right hand over her left arm to her elbow. Doing all she could to continue to breathe, she bowed low to her father. ‘I am sure you are needed by Ting to assist with the preparations.’
‘Peng is there to help,’ her father said absently, a confused expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure who she was. And then his mouth opened slightly.
Lis tried unsuccessfully to gulp down the pain in her chest. A whimper escaped.
‘I cannot visit again,’ her father said quickly, reaching her in two strides.
Despite wanting to throw herself into his arms and hold on to him forever, she simply inclined her head.
‘Lis,’ he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. ‘I understand that this is very difficult. And,’ he added, glancing over his shoulder to the prince in her garden, ‘that you are scared. I believe the prince and your soldiers, do all they can to keep you safe.’
She looked at the prince rather than her father when she inclined her head again. A small noise of agreement hummed against her lips, but she couldn’t open them in fear of what she might say. What she might do to beg her father to take her with him.
‘I have already explained to the princess the measures I have taken to keep her safe,’ the prince said, his voice sharp and clipped as he entered the room. ‘You have just lost your mother,’ he said more gently. ‘Take the time to rest and talk with your father. The empress does not expect you to return to lessons today.’
‘But there is too little time,’ she blurted.
‘You learn quickly,’ her father added as she shook her head. ‘You can take a day to grieve.’ He sounded angry, his deep voice reverberating around the usually quiet walls.
‘I shall talk with the men,’ the general said quickly, bowing to Lis before racing from the room. She turned back to the window to watch him crunching along the gravel path. As the gate closed behind him, she was relieved her garden had become quiet again.
‘There is another quiet space through that doorway,’ the prince said quickly, pointing beyond the classroom. Lis wondered if he had been here before.
Her father took her arm and half dragged her beyond the classroom out into a small garden. It was shaded from the sun by tall bamboo that grew thick around the walls, hiding them completely from the outside world. A gazebo sat in the middle of the space, with a small table and three round stools beneath it.
Lis’s father deposited her onto a stool and crossed his arms savagely.
Lis looked at her hands, and her father continued to wait.
‘How is Peng?’ she finally asked.
‘He is well enough,’ he answered gruffly.
Lis looked up then, taking in the angry man before her.
‘I don’t want to be here, but I cannot leave. I miss you all, and yet I cannot even read your letters. If you had not come, would they have told me at all of her death?’
‘I don’t know.’ He sighed, sitting at the table with her. ‘This is not what I wanted for you.’
‘But it is where I am,’ she said, ‘and there is no choice now.’
‘Is it so hard?’
She nodded and tried not to let her tears escape. ‘The tutors and the empress are forever telling me there isn’t enough time to learn all I need to know. Yet if they focused more on teaching me rather than complaining, I would know so much more.’
He sighed.
She looked into his worried face. ‘There was a man,’ she murmured, unsure how to continue.
Her father straightened, the soldier in him clear and angry. ‘Tell me.’
‘He appeared in the bath house. I was alone, and my maid had disappeared. He…’
‘Lis,’ her father coaxed gently.
‘He had magic,’ she whispered, leaning forward. ‘He said he knew what I was.’
‘What happened?’ her father asked, a shake to his voice she hadn’t heard other than when he had spoken of her mother.
‘The prince is a hunter. He felt the magic and saved me.’
‘And the man?’
‘Dead,’ she said. She opened and closed her mouth to say more, but she didn’t know how.
�
�He made a noise when he died,’ her father added gently, pulling her to him.
She nodded against him. The strange fizzle sound was still clear in her mind. ‘You have killed those with magic.’
When he said nothing, she pulled back and looked up at him. He wore a distant look, but he didn’t answer her.
‘We are given very little choice in this world,’ she whispered, standing and wiping at her dry face, smearing her makeup across her sleeve. ‘I must look a sight.’ She tried to smile for her father and ran her hand over the mark on the light coloured cloth.
‘You sound like an empress,’ he said, his voice cracking, and he turned his back on her and walked inside.
Chapter 13
General Long stepped through the gate, looking distant and sad. Remi bowed low before him.
‘Your Highness,’ the general stammered.
‘I am nervous, General Long, and I would prefer to escort you to where you go next.’
The general looked about for a moment, taking in the number of soldiers. ‘Would it be better for you to be stationed by my daughter?’
‘As much as I would like to watch over her, I am afraid the customs will not allow it.’
The older man sighed as he looked back at the gate behind him. ‘I fear I have lost her,’ he murmured.
‘She will always be your daughter,’ Remi said, bowing again.
The general shook his head. ‘She is now Hidden Princess of the Rei-Een Empire, and she will be Empress. As much as I love her, I understand that she is no longer mine.’
Remi suddenly wondered if he was worthy of this girl. He had not thought at all about what she would be leaving behind when he chose her that day. Her look of horror still stung, but she had understood what she was losing.
‘Will you see my father?’ he asked.
The old man shook his head and walked out into the street. Remi had to race to catch him up. Despite his older appearance, he was strong and quick.
‘Sir,’ Remi said, trying to keep pace with him, ‘it is not safe on the Palace Isle.’
The Magics of Rei-Een Box Set Page 9
