by Mary Fan
The Shadow Warrior is several cabins down now, running along the narrow beam across the sloped rooftops. I follow as quickly as I can, holding my arms out for balance.
When I catch up, I bring my sword crashing down toward him. He holds up his own weapon to block me, and our weapons sizzle against each other. A few hot sparks hit my skin, but I don’t care. His glowing eyes take on that mocking glint. Though I can’t see the rest of his face, I know he must be grinning. Fury flares through me. I swipe his weapon to the side and strike again. This time, he parries hard enough to send me stumbling off the beam. My foot slips, and I tumble off the roof.
I land in a heap on the deck. The Shadow Warrior vanishes over the roof, and before I can begin my pursuit strong hands seize both my arms.
“What is the meaning of this?” Viceroy Kang glares down at me, his harsh eyes boring into mine.
“Let me go!”
“No wife of mine will behave like such a barbarian!” Kang drags me toward my cabin while explosions tear the darkness above. The mechanical dragons wind through the air, their serpentine bodies clunking as they twist and curve over the ship. The Ligui scatter, their screeches rattling the night.
When we reach my cabin, Kang tries to take the sword from my hand, but I hold it tight.
“No!” I yank it away from him. “It was my father’s!”
Kang reaches for the weapon again but pauses. An aura of coolness descends upon him. “No doubt your father taught you the value of discipline.”
I grit my teeth, hating that he’d use my father against me.
“I will allow you to keep the sword as a reminder of his lessons.” He gives me an indulgent smile, as if he’s granting me the greatest favor in the world. “But you must never wield it again. Behave yourself, and you will receive many such favors. Refuse, and you’ll find I’m not always so generous.”
He strides out toward the deck where the Ligui are all but vanquished. The Shadow Warrior is nowhere in sight. I don’t know if one of the mechanical dragons destroyed him or if he escaped, but one thing’s for sure: I failed again.
Dejected, I sink down into my chair. The sword slides from my grasp, and I bury my face in my hands. That was my last chance to fight, my last chance to claim glory.
Liang Anlei is gone. I’m to be Lady Jiangzhu.
CHAPTER SIX
THE CITY OF COPPER AUTUMN
The streets of Tongqiucheng—the City of Copper Autumn—stretch in amber lines outside my window, though I can only see a sliver at a time. Because I own nothing befitting a lady, Viceroy Kang ordered me to keep the curtain of my carriage down. The ruby silk flutters as my mechanical carriage moves along, humming and hissing on large wheels. Through the crack between the curtain and the wide window frame, I catch snatches of the city outside. Buildings line the streets, each two or three stories high with sloping roofs supported by red or yellow columns. Ornate carvings and colorful paint embellish the trims in snaking patterns of flowers or dragons or tigers. Even the market stands, from which merchants sell everything from fruits to beads, are richly decorated. The midday sun glints off gilded accents. Mother was right about one thing: agreeing to this marriage has given me a chance to see this magnificent place.
High above, mechanical dragons twist through the blue sky. According to Kang, nothing supernatural can cross Tongqiucheng’s borders without one of them noticing. Any Ligui are stopped before they can harm anyone here. Soon, that will be true for Dailan as well.
The streets bustle with people from all walks of life. In the short time between leaving the viceroy’s ship and this moment, I’ve seen more individuals than all of Dailan holds. Some are dressed in simple white or blue tunics not unlike those my neighbors wore, while others sport fine embroidered silks. The men all wear their hair in the customary queue, and the women flaunt twisted hairstyles adorned with ribbons and carved pins. They all look like royalty to me, and I find it puzzling that they’re walking around the streets alongside ordinary people. I guess Tongqiucheng is so wealthy that these people hardly even count as elite.
Several people throw curious glances in my direction and mutter to their neighbors. They must be speculating about who the viceroy’s new bride is. I want to throw up the curtain and let them see me for exactly who I am: the poor village girl with messy braids, rough hands, and sun-browned skin. Why should I hide until the viceroy’s servants dress me up and paint my face? He was the one who chose me, and his people should get to see exactly who their new Lady Jiangzhu is.
But my father’s words about discipline keep circling through my mind.
Self-control today is a gift for tomorrow. Be kind to your future self.
Provoking my future husband’s temper can lead to nothing good.
The carriage’s engine belches white clouds of steam that briefly obscure what little view I have. A thin, sparkling haze hangs over the entire city, softening its edges. At first, I wonder if it’s some kind of fog, but then I notice just how many machines puff out white wisps from metal exhaust tubes and give off little sparks of magic. Though I was accustomed to seeing the mechanical wagon rolling down Dailan’s streets, hauling crops or transporting people, in Tongqiucheng, it’s as if ten thousand spellmasters spend all day and all night creating all manner of devices. Bronze animals gallop up to storefronts or trot alongside their owners. Automatons amble alongside the people. Children chase clockwork butterflies that flash yellow lights, and metal birds with blade-like wings soar between windows, carrying rolled-up messages in their talons.
Anshui would love this. I bite my lip, wondering if I’ll ever see my sister again.
A flash of movement outside catches my eye. Something’s wrong—I feel it in my gut. I press one eye up to the crack between the curtain and the window frame.
Then I see it again—a figure darting into one of the shops ahead. The person moves so quickly, all I catch is a grayish blur of motion as they vanish through the elaborately decorated doorway of a store selling jade sculptures and other such fineries. Though two well-dressed men stand inside, apparently haggling, neither seems to have noticed a third person enter.
As the carriage rolls past the store, I keep my gaze fixed on it, certain that something is amiss. Seconds later, the figure appears in the alley to the store’s left, apparently having emerged through a window. He pauses for a second, which is just long enough for me to realize that he is a he. Or at least he’s wearing a man’s tunic. Something yellow sits clutched in one hand … something that looks an awful lot like a silk coin purse.
“Zei!” I stick my head out of the carriage and point emphatically at the thief, but since I’ve made myself visible to the entire street, people seem more interested in ogling at me than hearing what I said.
The thief whirls toward me, but a gray cloth covers most of his face. To my surprise, the front of his head is unshaved … in fact, he has no queue at all. Thick black locks brush his shoulders. It’s the hair of a foreigner—I’ve never seen any man fail to conform to the Imperial style before. Maybe he isn’t a he—I’ve worn a man’s tunic often enough. But the hair is still odd; I’ve never seen any women or girls with their locks unbound either unless they were in mourning.
Two glinting black eyes dart toward me, and for the briefest of moments, we lock gazes. Then the thief winks and sprints down the alley.
Hundan! The arrogance sparks my fury. This thief won’t get away with stealing.
I leap out the carriage’s window, barely hearing the gasps of the people in the street. The whole world blurs except for the path I need to take, which focuses in perfect clarity before me. I follow it through the crowd, heading in the direction I saw the thief take off in, and zigzag between men, women, and automatons. I race into the alley beside the store, which I reach in time to see the thief turn a corner.
Somewhere faraway, people are exclaiming words like “Who was that girl?” and “Is that the viceroy’s new bride?” and “Lady! Come back!” Though my ears catch thei
r sounds, their meanings vanish in my mind. All I know is that a thief is getting away with a crime, and I have to stop it.
I glimpse the lithe, fleeing figure ahead. A quick laugh, bright and clear, jingles past my ears. Apparently, they think it’s funny that I’m chasing them. Fool! We’ll see how funny they find things when I catch them!
The streets grow narrower and dirtier the farther I go from the main road. The buildings I whip past are no longer painted and carved, but simple wooden houses similar to those in Dailan.
The thief darts around one of them. I follow—then come to an abrupt halt.
Instead of fleeing, the thief now crouches in the muddy street. A dirty, barefoot old man in ragged clothing sits against the wall with a cracked clay bowl before him. A beggar.
To my surprise, the thief places the coin purse in the bowl.
The beggar bows his head in gratitude. “Duo xie, Masked Giver.” He picks up the purse with frail, wrinkled fingers and looks up at the sky. “The Gods of Heaven and Earth, bless this boy.”
My fury peters away as I realize what’s happening. A man in a fancy shop, a silk coin purse, an old beggar in the street …
A mix of dismay and admiration whirls through me. I can’t capture the thief now. I couldn’t bear to snatch the purse away from the old man, and without it, I have no evidence that the masked man even is a thief.
He stands and turns to me. From the way his eyes twinkle, I know he’s grinning at me beneath that mask. “You should return to your carriage, Lady.”
He dashes off, and this time, I don’t pursue. My heart pounds from the chase, and with the rush of action gone, weariness settles into my limbs. The Masked Giver disappears behind a rickety wooden house as I stare after him, wondering who he is. What kind of arrogant idiot steals in broad daylight—and right in front of the viceroy’s convoy? And what kind of thief takes such a huge risk only to give away his prize?
He’s still a criminal, I remind myself. Part of me wonders if I made a mistake in letting him go. But what kind person would I have been if I’d taken money from an old man in need when I knew it came from someone with plenty?
“Lady Jiangzhu!”
A man’s voice booms through the street, accompanied by footsteps. For a moment, I wonder who he’s calling to before I realize it’s me.
I’m not Lady Jiangzhu yet! For one more day, I’m still Liang Anlei.
I face the approaching soldier—one of the cyborgs from the flying ship. Pounding hoofbeats ring out behind him.
Viceroy Kang approaches on horseback, flanked by two guards. His harsh voice explodes like thunder. “How dare you leave the carriage after I instructed you not to?”
“I saw a thief!” I square my shoulders. “In Dailan, it’s every person’s duty to stop a crime in action.”
“You’re not in your village anymore.” Kang glares down at me. “This kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”
You don’t command me! I bite back the words. Much as I wish they were true, a sinking part of me knows they’re not.
Swallowing hard, I lower my chin. “I’m sorry. I should have controlled my impulses.”
Kang’s lips curl. “Good. You are learning. But if anything like this happens again, you will be disciplined. Understand?”
Hatred burns in my chest, and I dig my nails into my palms. If he thinks I’d let him hit me or lock me up, he’s dead wrong. Yet I can’t stop the fear from trickling down my spine.
Turning to the soldier, he says, “Take her back to the carriage and tell everyone that she’s a servant—a decoy for my actual bride, who is already inside the palace.”
“Yes, sir!” The soldier seizes my arm as the viceroy and his guards ride off.
The soldier drags me through the streets, treating me like the servant girl he tells everyone I am.
My new title might be Lady, but even after they scrub me clean, paint my face, and clothe me in silk, I’ll still be little more than a slave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAINTED DOLL
A strange girl stares at me from within a large, golden frame molded to look like a dozen koi swimming in a circle. The fish’s scales flash under the muted sunlight on the other side of the paper window, and they almost appear to move over their lacquered red stand. They’re trying to drown her—the grotesque doll that stands where my reflection should be.
Though I’ve worn heavy makeup for performances before, this feels different. Then, I was transforming into a figure from legend or a mythical creature. It was all part of the showmanship, meant for entertainment and exaggeration. And it was always my choice to participate.
But the chalky girl with the unnaturally bright lips and garishly flushed cheeks—that’s who I’m being forced to turn into. Lady Jiangzhu, the viceroy’s wife. If I’d chosen to be her, I might have found her beautiful. Instead, she’s a mutilated version of me. Though she’s dressed in luscious red silk embroidered with golden dragons, she looks as if she’s fading away. Wide sleeves cover her hands, and her long skirt drags on the ground. It will be just the right length when she slips on her shoes, which glimmer with colorful embroidered flowers and balance on jeweled blocks. They resemble a horse’s hoofs and seem impossible to walk in. Not that Lady Jiangzhu will have anywhere to go, since she’s forbidden from leaving the viceroy’s palace.
Though it looks magnificent—a sprawling city within a city surrounded by red walls—the palace might as well be a prison. No—a tomb. I find it hard to admire the red one-story houses with golden roofs and the covered walkways decorated with painted flowers when they are keeping me from the life I want. Even the beauty of the viceroy’s central hall, which has golden dragons snaking down its red columns and painted carvings of the zodiac animals along its eaves, looks gloomy and menacing to me. The statue-lined stone terraces, the brilliant flowers and sculpted mountains in the gardens, the intricate, multi-layered roofs of the important halls … all are tainted by the knowledge of my fate among them.
Any hope that something good might come out of this marriage has disappeared. It’s not the journey Mother hoped for, and it never will be.
My heart quivers as the girl in the mirror obediently allows strange women to bedeck her for her wedding. I don’t know why this shard of fear remains embedded in my chest. Except for the day I watched the Shadow Warrior murder my father, I’ve never been so frightened in my life.
The women—who serve the viceroy’s other wives and were lent to me for my wedding—twist my hair into elaborate knots. Other than to instruct me to stand or lift my arms or tilt my head, they haven’t spoken to me; if their loyalties are to their mistresses, then they hardly have reason to welcome another wife. Though I stand among others, I’m completely alone.
I picture the long, empty days ahead, broken up only by the viceroy’s visits. I imagine that horrible man touching my skin and demanding his rights as a husband … The thought sends bile up my throat. How will I survive this? If he tries to kiss me, I might find myself strangling him before I know what I’m doing.
But powerful officials are known for exacting revenge on generations of families for the misdeeds of one individual. Viceroy Kang could destroy my entire village if I wrong him, and with his army of bronze dragons, Dailan wouldn’t stand a chance. He’s as good as holding them hostage—my family, my neighbors, everyone I’ve ever met. I’ll have no choice but to yield to his wishes and restrain my rage. I doubt any of the Courts of Hell hold as excruciating a torture as my future holds for me.
In the mirror, Lady Jiangzhu meets my gaze. Her eyes are dead.
I’m worse than dead.
A powerful swelling presses against my heart, and though I clench every muscle in my body, I can’t stop my trembling.
“Are you all right?” One of the women glances at me with concern.
I breathe hard, trying to contain the flood surging against my heart. But it’s no use; the dam is cracking. And no one can be here to see the deluge. “Get out of here. All o
f you.”
The woman knits her eyebrows. “But—”
“Gun!” I point emphatically at the door. “Get out!”
Her eyes widen with fright. “If you’re late for the ceremony, the viceroy will punish all of us.”
“I–I just need a few minutes.” My voice cracks. “Please—just five minutes.”
The woman hesitates, then nods. She turns to the others and motions for them to follow as she leaves.
As soon as she’s out of sight, my legs collapse beneath me. Unwelcome tears stream down my cheeks, and I press my hands against my eyes, trying to push them back. The air seems to drown me, and I gasp for breath.
It’s over … It’s all over …
I’ll never again run through the streets of Dailan, not caring about messed-up hair or muddied shoes, never again stand watch with the Guard. Everything I know is gone forever.
And what’s replacing it? An eternity of fearing that any wrong move I make will doom my family, my people. Of biting my tongue and binding my warrior’s instincts.
Of living with Viceroy Kang as my husband.
If only the Shadow Warrior had cut me down.
I grasp at my jade pendant, which hides beneath the high collar of my wedding dress. Though my fingers meet silk, I feel its smooth groves. The stone calms me, and I picture Father’s face. He gave his life for Dailan. I can do the same.
I draw a deep breath and force myself to stand. In the mirror, the grotesque doll appears even more absurd with her smudged makeup. She’s a pathetic, self-pitying thing, and I never want to see her again. Tomorrow won’t change because I’m afraid of it. I might as well maintain what little dignity I have left.
I hastily brush my cheeks. No doubt the women will be back soon, and I can’t let them see me like this. From my performing days, I know how to fix bad makeup, and I rush to erase the smudges on my cheeks. There’s nothing I can do about the redness in my eyes.