by CK Dawn
My insides squeezed like a grape in an Arkothi wine press. All my fault. I should’ve never taken him into the music hall or archives, or at least gone through the proper channels. Really, I should’ve just seen him off and then gone to meet General Lu, but Prince Hardeep was so, so…confusing.
General Lu was still waiting now, probably wondering if the orc gods would return to Tivara on their flaming chariots before I deigned to greet him. If it were up to me…
Appointments Minister Hu furiously scribbled on a scroll. When he looked up, he spoke in Cathayi. “Prince Hardeep, the Emperor generously allowed you to visit the castle and even dispatched a member of his family to meet with you. You repay his magnanimity by kidnapping his young daughter and spiriting her from building to building.”
Kidnapping! How did he come to that conclusion? My heart pounded. Expulsion from the palace, perhaps deportation might be more appropriate for what actually happened, but the minister’s charges warranted a slow death. Just what had all the scholars and other officials said?
The minister scrutinized me and my entourage before settling on the Household Ministry secretary. “And, Secretary Hong overheard you. You wanted the princess to meet you outside the palace? What did you plan to do? Defile her? Use her as a hostage to secure Cathay’s support?”
Hardeep only smiled. He probably didn’t understand the Cathayi tongue, let alone the serious accusation and grave consequences. He turned and winked at me again.
My chest tightened. This ill-advised escapade would never have happened if I hadn’t allowed it. I was just as much at fault as he, perhaps even more so for my lack of judgment. I pushed through the imperial guards, who stepped to the side and dropped to a knee, fist to the ground, as I passed.
“Minister,” I said.
He bowed at the waist. “Your Highness. I am glad to see you unharmed. Please tell us what else this rogue did.”
I scowled at the minister. “Prince Hardeep did nothing wrong. I chose to take him to the imperial archives and Hall of Pure Melody.”
The minister sidled in and whispered, “Your Highness, you do not understand. If rumor gets out that you were with the prince alone, it will besmirch your honor and affect your marriage prospects.”
“If only it were so easy.” Heavens, did I just think that, or say it aloud? Face flushing, I swept my gaze around all the assembled men, making sure all witnesses to my misadventures were now there: the imperial guards, Secretary Hong, Minister Hu, the scholars, and the steward. I raised my voice so all could hear. “Prince Hardeep only wished to save his homeland. I wanted to help him. He did nothing wrong. Any breeches of protocol were my choice.”
“If I may, Your Highness,” called a male voice from beyond the cordon of men. The guards stepped aside to reveal Cousin Kai-Long. He folded a piece of paper as he approached.
I blew out a breath. If he and Prince Hardeep were good friends, he would surely use his considerable influence to prevent any possible misunderstanding. Kai-Long might only be a second son with little hope of inheriting his father’s title of Tai-Ming provincial ruler, but all knew the Emperor treated him like his own son.
Minister Hu bowed low, though not as low as he had to me. “Young Lord Peng Kai-Long, this matter does not concern you.”
“But it does,” Cousin Kai-Long said with an amiable smile. “I am ultimately responsible for Prince Hardeep’s presence. It was I who brought him to Huajing, housed him in my family villa, and arranged for his visit to the castle. I even suggested to the Emperor that Princess Kaiya meet him, as a test of her budding diplomatic skills.”
I gaped at him. It had seemed strange that I was the one to greet the Ankirans, and now it was clear. Still, he deflected blame from both me and the prince.
The minister’s slit eyes fell first on Hardeep, then on Cousin Kai-Long, and finally on me. “The evidence—”
“Wait.” Prince Hardeep stomped a foot on the pavestones as he raised a hand. All heads turned to him. He rotated in a full circle as he spoke, his voice calm. “This is all a misunderstanding. I certainly did not do anything inappropriate with the princess. This is really just a trivial matter.”
And he was right. So what if we had visited the archives and music hall? We hadn’t damaged anything. I looked at the men, many who likely didn’t speak Ayuri. They might not be convinced, but Minister Hu’s expression softened.
He must have realized that with Cousin Kai-Long and me both vouching for the prince, very little would come of it. With a sigh, he said, “Young Lord Peng, I place Prince Hardeep in your care. Please see him out of the palace.”
That was it? If my mouth could hang any lower, my chin would touch the ground. Surely, somebody would be punished somehow. But Prince Hardeep allowed to just leave? A great resolution, for sure, but a complete surprise.
“Follow me, Your Excellency.” Ayuri rolled off Kai-Long’s tongue.
Prince Hardeep flashed a smile at me.
My heart sank into my stomach. I bowed my head a fraction, as protocol demanded. Maybe the resolution wasn’t so great, after all. After the day’s debacle, I wouldn’t be allowed to see him ever again. And if what he said were true, Ankira would fall without me ever having a chance to help it. I was nothing more than a plain, gangly girl, to be strategically married off. Never allowed to explore the power of Dragon Songs, even after my breakthrough.
I studied his back, hair, and gait as he and Kai-Long started toward the main gates. My last memory of him.
Then he turned his head, his luminescent blue eyes fixed on me. My pulse pounded again, just like when I first met him.
Tonight, he mouthed.
Tonight?
Secretary Hong—that was his name—cleared his throat. “Your Highness, General Lu is waiting.”
I looked back at Hardeep’s diminishing form. Tonight… There would be no tonight, at least not with him. He wouldn’t be let back in the palace, and there was no way for me to get out. Even if I could grow in my knowledge of Dragon Songs, Father would never let me go to Ankira. Not to mention, there was my own country’s stability to consider.
Whatever he had done to addle my good judgment…well, it had been a fleeting diversion. A three-hour diversion, gauging from the iridescent moon’s waning toward new. My future husband, Cathay’s savior, waited. My lip jutted out, unbidden. If only it could be Hardeep.
Six
Visitors
The happy birdsongs couldn’t cheer me as I considered my fate. I’d made a breakthrough in rediscovering Dragon Songs, yet there was no avoiding meeting General Lu.
Hiking my gown up and holding my hair in place, I hurried back toward the inner castle. Secretary Hong and two guards rushed to keep up with me. The faster I could put distance between myself and Hardeep, the sooner I could forget him and accept my fate.
If only it were so simple.
Though abated, the squirming sensation in my belly was a constant reminder of the power and bliss I’d felt while playing Yanyan’s pipa. With each step away from Hardeep, the chasm widened between me and possibility.
The possibility of being more than just a skinny, pimply political tool. Of being something special. I blinked and found myself at the inner moat. Behind me, Secretary Hong hunched over, hands on his knees, panting. Unlike him, my imperial guards Chen Xin and Zhao Yue managed to maintain a dignified demeanor and appearance.
In the middle of the arching stone bridge, I stopped and found my reflection in the dark water. Heavens, my hair appeared as if a family of songbirds had nested there, and perhaps rearranged the clips and pins as well. The gown, originally folded at an exact angle, now hung awkwardly over my shoulder. I must’ve looked ridiculous to Hardeep, who inexplicably thought there was even a remote chance I could escape the palace tonight.
“Hurry, Kaiya.” With the slightest hint of a frown, Sister-In-Law Xiulan beckoned from the other side of the bridge. “General Lu has been waiting.”
My paternal cousin Wang Kai-Hua nodded fro
m where she stood beside Xiulan. Several handmaidens bowed in a flash of colorful robes. One of them, Han Meiling, gawked, with wide eyes focused on my head.
My hand shot up to my disheveled hair. With a sigh, I descended the bridge. My imperial guards stopped and dropped to a knee, fist to the ground.
“Your Highness, you cannot meet General Lu looking like this.” Meiling shuffled over and adjusted my hair.
With a deft hand, Xiulan rewrapped my sash. “You look like you wrestled a dragon.”
“I hope you won.” Kai-Hua tugged on my sleeves. Though only a year older, she’d already flowered with Heaven’s Dew and filled out. She now glowed with radiance since her own betrothal to Liu Dezhen, heir to Jiangzhou Province.
I clenched my clammy hands. Neither Kai-Hua nor Xiulan were malicious, yet neither understood the stress of being sixteen and not yet flowered into womanhood, nor my lack of interest in marriage.
Xiulan stepped back. “General Lu has been waiting anxiously to hear you sing.”
Given the general’s reputation, he probably cared more about the sound of his own voice. At least today I’d been able to sing for someone who did care.
“You are so fortunate,” Kai-Hua said. “General Lu would make a wonderful husband. So dashing and handsome! With his experience and intelligence, he might rise to head of the Ministry of War.”
A path to glory blazed with the dying heart of an imperial princess. I suppressed a snort. “I am not ready to marry.”
Both Xiulan and Kai-Hua stared at me with round eyes. Xiulan said, “You will have to, sooner than later.”
Kai-Hua nodded. “Yes, all the girls we grew up with are reaching that age. You know what they say: a woman unwed by sixteen is like a New Year’s feast on the third day of the year.”
As if a woman were meant to be devoured. I shuddered. In any case, being all skin and bones, I was more like a nun’s rice porridge and tofu than a New Year’s feast.
Leaning in, Xiulan said, “I met Kai-Wu’s betrothed, Wu Yanli. She is quite…strict and reserved.”
I cocked my head. That didn’t seem to fit all the rumors. Second Brother’s upcoming wedding hadn’t been arranged, at least not in the formal sense. It had been a supposedly chance meeting, followed by a torrid love affair. The handmaidens whispered that the second prince had already partaken of that New Year’s Feast.
And yet, in affairs of the heart, the Emperor wouldn’t extend any leeway to me, his only daughter. I stifled a sigh. Prince Hardeep, learning the magic of Dragon Songs—they might as well have been a storyteller’s fanciful tale.
“Come along,” Xiulan said. “You have made General Lu wait long enough.”
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, only for my posture to slump. All the energy I’d put into projecting an imperial image this morning now flagged. Instability in the North had turned a match I’d planned to reject into a fait accompli. What I really wanted, Hardeep—no, reviving Dragon Songs—now lay beyond reach. Each step through the inner castle grounds felt like slogging through knee-high mud toward a funeral.
So unlike Kai-Hua, whose graceful stride might have been skipping for all the effervescence she exuded. So different from Xiulan, the personification of dignity and elegance. Even the handmaidens would make better princesses.
A hand grasped my sleeve, pulling me to a stop. Xiulan nodded toward a gatehouse at the side. “General Lu is in Murder Gap.”
How appropriate. A hypothetical invader would believe this the most direct route to the inner castle’s gates, only to find themselves trapped in a dead-end courtyard surrounded by high walls. Now, it would be the site of my own proverbial death. But, “Why is General Lu here? I thought we were to meet in the Danhua Garden.”
Xiulan covered a giggle. “While you were gallivanting about the palace, he took to wandering the castle grounds.”
With all my willpower, I straightened my carriage. I strode through the gatehouse and then down the wide alley. At the hairpin turn, I paused and peeked into the courtyard.
A handsome man in formal court robes sat on a porcelain garden stool next to a bloodwood table. He appeared older than Hardeep, maybe in his early thirties. Long, glossy black hair framed an oval face with the chiseled jaw and nose of North Hua. He reached for a teacup on the table, the very motion refined, almost effeminate. The unarmed soldier standing a respectful distance behind him wore blue robes, marking him as an officer in the imperial army.
Without warning, Xiulan gave me a firm prod. I stumbled into the courtyard.
The officer knelt, fist to the ground. General Lu barely rose before sinking to his knee. “Your Highness, thank you for honoring me.” His voice echoed off the high courtyard walls.
“Rise,” Xiulan said, her voice resonating.
He stood…and barely met my eye level.
So short! I bowed my head. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” My own words resounded off the walls.
When his mouth opened, he spoke in a high pitch reminiscent of bird chirps. “Your grace and beauty made the wait worthwhile.” His contrived smile and rote intonation suggested otherwise. If his insincerity didn’t give me a headache, the persistent echo would. He motioned to the garden stool across from him, inviting me to sit.
With as much grace as I could muster under the circumstances, I shuffled over and settled on the edge of the stool. Xiulan and Kai-Hua sat to the side. The handmaidens and imperial guards deployed in positions around us.
Meiling took up the kettle and poured tea.
“Thank you, General,” Xiulan said, “for leaving the unsettled North just to meet Princess Kaiya.”
He chuckled. “We inflicted heavy casualties on the pale-faced barbarians the last time. I do not think they will be returning soon.”
“Pale-faced?” I ventured. “Don’t they stay on their own side of the Great Wall?”
The officer harrumphed, but General Lu silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I am posted in Wailian County, outside of the wall.”
That wasn’t possible. Surely, Father wouldn’t approve of establishing colonies in foreign lands. I turned to Xiulan, who nodded, and then back to General Lu. “What can you tell me of Wailian?”
He laughed. “Had I known we would be discussing the North, I would have come better prepared.”
“My apologies for Princess Kaiya.” Xiulan bowed her head a fraction.
General Lu waved a hand, the same motion he’d used to silence his own underling. “No need to apologize. The Five Classics say a ruler should know the land, and I would be happy to explain.”
Heat flared in my cheeks. Not like I’d be anything more than a political tool, let alone a ruler. No doubt he was thinking of himself.
“We annexed Wailian County nearly a year ago,” General Lu continued, “when we discovered abundant reserves of an essential firepowder ingredient. We could not let it fall into barbarian hands. Lord Tong has been building a castle overlooking the mines. A ravine surrounds the castle on three sides, and a sheer cliff drops away on the other side. It is impregnable.”
My head spun. Hua had invaded a neighbor, just as the Madurans had attacked Prince Hardeep’s Ankira. Though, given the circumstances, it seemed this Lord Tong would be a more appropriate husband than General Lu. I bowed my head. “Thank you for your report.”
He laughed again, living up to his reputation for arrogance. “Do not worry, Your Highness. With our guns, Wailian is well-defended.”
My insides twisted. A lifetime with such a conceited little man, in occupied territory, might be worse than death. If only Avarax could swoop in from the Dragonlands and immolate the courtyard now.
“That’s enough politics for the day,” Xiulan said. “Princess Kaiya wished to sing for you.”
Wished, indeed. As if General Lu even cared; he just played along. My face must’ve flushed redder than Yanluo’s Star, if my hot cheeks were any indication. Yet what choice did I have? I turned to Meiling. “My pipa, please.”
; Bowing, Meiling presented the instrument in two hands.
“Thank you.” I extended both arms to receive it. How lifeless it felt compared to Yanyan’s. I tilted my head toward General Lu. “If I may?”
“Please.” He bowed his head, but not before revealing the tight lips and glassy eyes of boredom.
Sadness clamped my chest. He would never appreciate me beyond the prestige of my lineage. I took a deep breath and plucked.
The sound resonated off the high courtyard walls, sending subtle vibrations into my core. My stomach coiled again, just like it had in the Hall of Pure Melody when I’d played for Hardeep. How had I never noticed the sensation before?
Back straight, shoulders level, feet rooted to the ground, just as Prince Hardeep had suggested. Ah, Prince Hardeep. He was handsome and charming, to be sure, but pining over him seemed silly. It must’ve been those beautiful, hypnotic eyes, convincing me of a happier future than the one for which I was destined. That must be how the cobra felt when sung to by an Ayuri snake-charmer. How preposterous to consider such an impossibility.
Closing my eyes, I plucked out more notes. The book from the Hall of Pure Melody suggested that a skilled performer could project the emotion of a song. Yet for all the happiness this piece embodied, only melancholy trudged in the verses I played. Align your spine, the book implored. Let your heart impel your voice. I adjusted my posture, and the vibrations spread throughout me.
There it was, the ocean of power from before, dripping in small drops, the rhythm setting the beat of my music. The song seemed to change of its own accord, and my brain somersaulted in my skull.
Gasps sheared the air. Robes shuffled. Porcelain shattered on the flagstones.
Lifting my hand from the strings, I opened my eyes. Though I’d stopped playing, the music trailed off in the echoes.
Tears streaked Xiulan’s cheeks, while Kai-Hua and some of the handmaidens freely wept. General Lu…