Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  His shoulders shook. He was fighting off laughter! “I think we might have misunderstood each other.”

  “How so?” I tilted my head.

  He pointed toward the elegant iron gates, flanked by two guards. “We would go right in. The Foreign Minister would find a way to deflect a request for the instrument, perhaps even deny he had it. However, his chamberlain would not dare refuse an imperial princess.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks. How embarrassing, to accuse noble Hardeep of thievery. I cast my gaze down. “Okay. Let’s get the lute.”

  He lifted my chin with his calloused fingers to meet his smile. A tingle percolated through me. “Thank you. Everything will be all right. Come.”

  We approached the front gates, Hardeep supporting me. The guards crossed their spears in front of us.

  “Begone,” one of them said.

  Hardeep pressed his hands together. “That is no way to greet Princess Kaiya.”

  “The princess? Impossible.” The other guard snorted. “The Ministry of Appointments would have informed us and she would have come with an entourage of handmaidens and imperial guards.”

  I stepped closer and lowered my hood.

  The guards leaned forward and squinted. Gawping, they dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “My apologies, Your Highness,” they both said in unison. One turned and called for the chamberlain, while the other opened the gates and invited us in.

  With Prince Hardeep one step behind me, I squared my shoulders and walked into the front courtyard with as much grace as the alcohol allowed. Which was to say, I almost tripped on the borrowed cloak.

  Sharply pitched eaves of green tile capped a spacious one-story residence. Red latticework framed windows in white walls. At the center of the manicured courtyard, a carp pond bubbled. Servants rushed about, whispering my name.

  The chamberlain shuffled out, bowing repeatedly. “Your Highness, what a surprise! Foreign Minister Song and his wife are at the reception, but his eldest son will receive you and your, uh, friend.” He extended a hand toward an oval entrance to the house.

  “Thank you, chamberlain.” I followed him in. Warmth washed over me as we left the cool night air. Bloodwood stands, porcelain vases, and hanging scrolls all decorated the foyer.

  A good-looking young man came out from a side room and bowed low. “Welcome, Your Highness. I am Song Xingyuan, son of Minister Song. I apologize for our meager abode. Please, sit.” He gestured to the side room.

  I nodded and walked through the oval doorway. A red, blue, and white wool carpet from the Ayuri South covered much of the marble tiles. Bloodwood chairs and double chairs surrounded a table with a marble top. Calligraphy and paintings by famous artists evoked a sense of calm and welcome.

  To the side, the sound of my heartbeat echoed off of…I turned my head.

  A lute. Similar in appearance to a pipa, its fretted neck tilted at a sharp angle. It had at least a dozen strings compared to a pipa’s four. Its soundboard was the color of cinnabar, and had a texture similar to leather.

  Avarax’s scale. Focus locked on the lute, I settled on the edge of a chair—and nearly lost my balance. How humiliating. Prince Hardeep remained standing at my side. He leaned in and pointed his chin at the lute.

  Song Xingyuan bowed. “Would you like some rice wine?”

  Tea, an inner voice implored. Still, with Prince Hardeep so close his heat radiated into my core, rice wine seemed more appealing. I nodded.

  With a gesture, Song Xingyuan sent the chamberlain off. He looked at the floor in front of me. “So, to what does my family owe the honor of your visit?”

  I gestured with an open hand toward the lute. “That is such a beautiful instrument.”

  “I have never seen it before.” Song Xingyuan cocked his head and motioned to the chamberlain as he entered with a porcelain decanter and cups. “Shu, how long has that been there?”

  Chamberlain Shu stared at it while pouring the rice wine. So bedazzled he must have been that the wine overflowed onto the table and splashed. I scuttled back.

  Both Song Xingyuan and the chamberlain were instantly on their feet, bowing repeatedly.

  Prince Hardeep knelt down by my side and dabbed the very small patch of moisture on my knee.

  “Please forgive my clumsiness.” The chamberlain sank to both knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. In two hands, he proffered a silk kerchief.

  “My deepest apologies for our chamberlain’s carelessness.” Song’s head bobbed.

  I waved off their concerns. “I think your carpet might have suffered more than I.”

  Song’s nervous laugh could not have been more contrived.

  Staring at the lute, the chamberlain wiped the table. “It has never left the storehouse. It didn’t have strings before.”

  “How did it get in such a conspicuous spot?” I studied the dark red resonance plate.

  Song Xingyuan exchanged a perplexed look with the chamberlain. “Perhaps my mother got it restrung? She must have had it put there, perhaps before they left for your brother’s reception.”

  The chamberlain nodded. “Yes, there are all kinds of foreign treasures in the storehouse, and Madame Song likes to rotate them.”

  Prince Hardeep, still on one knee, pointed to it. “May I?”

  The chamberlain shuffled on his feet, watching me. He clearly desired to deny the request, but was unwilling to refuse me.

  Etiquette screamed for me not to press the issue, but here laid the salvation for Hardeep’s people. Not to mention, a chance to prove my worth. “Please,” I said.

  With a bow, the chamberlain shuffled to the lute and removed it from the wall. He returned and proffered it in two hands.

  My eyes widened as I received it. Like Yanyan’s pipa, it seemed to have a vibration, a life of its own. So ancient it must be; it smelled like rust. The several pairs of twisted strings shimmered like a wet line of spider silk in the morning sun. I ran my hand over the resonance plate. With its countless ridges, it resembled the cross section of a tree stump.

  I closed my gaping mouth and looked up at Prince Hardeep. “How did they acquire one of his scales?”

  He scratched the back of his neck, brow furrowed and eyes looking up at his own lashes. “A legend from before the War of Ancient Gods has it that Aralas himself dislodged that scale from Avarax’s neck with a magical arrow.”

  I regarded the minister’s son and the chamberlain, both staring at Hardeep with rapt attention. I turned back to Prince Hardeep. “I’ve never heard that legend.”

  Hardeep tapped his bare chin. “Perhaps the stories in the South differ from Cathay’s. Why don’t you try the lute?”

  I’d never played any instrument of the Arkothi East before, but it couldn’t be much different from a pipa. My attention shifted from the lute to Song Xingyuan. It would be impolite to play someone else’s instrument without permission. “May I?”

  Hardeep, too, looked at Song, with the same expectant eyes he’d turned on me during our first meeting. A twinge of jealousy twanged in my chest.

  Song Xingyuan’s face brightened like the clouds opening up on an afternoon sun. “I don’t think Father would mind. He would be honored, in fact.”

  I shook away my jealousy. With a trembling finger, I pulled a tentative pluck on a bass string.

  The barely audible sound came out low and desolate, like the lament of an exiled ruler over the fall of his kingdom. Despite the lack of resonance, a tremor coursed down my spine. I placed my hand over the strings to quiet them.

  The joy in Hardeep’s eyes guttered. “No, no. Maybe with practice, you can coax the energy out.”

  As if I wanted to. Just that single pluck gave birth to more misgivings than any of the day’s other misadventures. I shivered again.

  “Though maybe…” He tapped a finger to his chin for a few seconds before he beamed. “I know what we can do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do?” What was there to do, besides return the lute to a place where no
one would ever touch it again?

  “We need to find a place like the Hall of Pure Melody,” he said. “The acoustics there are so perfect; they magnified the power of your voice. I think I know a place nearby which has an even stronger effect.”

  Was he mad? The thought of hearing that bass string again tightened my chest. He couldn’t be so desperate as to subject even an enemy to it. Not to mention, “Even if I could make it work in a specific place, I won’t be able to replicate it in Ankira.”

  His smile looked anything but insane. “I have faith in you. If you take this step into the unknown, perhaps it will awaken something special inside of you.”

  To be special. Xiulan was, combining both beauty and the magic of her handwriting. If I couldn’t be pretty, at least I might be remembered for reviving Yanyan’s musical power.

  And, of course, Ankira needed me. Hand on Tian’s pebble, I turned to Song. “Mister Song, may I borrow this lute?”

  An audacious request, for the sake of the nation. A minister’s son wouldn’t dare refuse a princess. He exchanged looks with the chamberlain. His expression looked like he’d sucked a lemon and bitter melon at the same time.

  Eleven

  Uncommitted Resolve

  Sitting in Foreign Minister Song’s receiving room, my heart roared in my ears. Maybe that was better, since it drowned out the Dragon Scale Lute’s horrific echo in my mind. It would almost be better if Song refused to relinquish it.

  He took a deep breath and bowed his head. “Your Highness, my father would be honored if you received this lute as a gift.”

  Prince Hardeep’s hand tightened on my shoulder, sending warmth surging through me. My pulse raced as I focused on the beautiful lute. It hadn’t seemed possible this morning, but now, I might really be able to help Hardeep. Was it worth hearing the lute’s moan again?

  The chamberlain bowed as well. “I will inform the Foreign Minister of the gift when he returns from the reception.”

  The reception…some guests must be leaving by now. I looked at the dwarf-made water clock, now indicating that iridescent moon waxed to its third gibbous. One hour had already passed since I’d left the palace. I turned back to my hosts and offered a nod. “Thank you for your generosity.”

  Generosity, indeed. I stifled a sigh. I’d used my position to strong-arm it away. A servant entered with a silk brocade bag and held it open. I slid the lute in and passed it to Prince Hardeep. He strapped it to his back.

  The servants all bowed as I rose to my feet, and the chamberlain escorted me and the prince to the outside gates. There, he held a low bow.

  Outside, Prince Hardeep took my hands. “Thank you so much. I could never have done this by myself.”

  His hands, on mine, drew me closer. The warmth was reassuring, mingling with the rice wine dancing in my head. Maybe I’d abused my position, but it was for the right reasons. The liberation of an occupied people. The revival of a lost art. The chance of being more than just a political bride. All possible because this one man saw true potential in me.

  He placed one hand on the small of my back and cradled my nape with the other.

  Fire erupted all through me. Never had a man embraced me like this. My stomach buzzed like a hummingbird’s wings. All three moons seemed to shine on only us. I closed my eyes and tilted my chin up to him, parting my lips to offer him my first kiss.

  Nothing.

  Then, a finger touched my lips. I opened my eyes to meet his sigh.

  “We must stay focused,” he said. “For now. I can’t lose myself in you.” His arms released me.

  The warmth fled my body as the cool night air rushed in. The alcohol haze still fogged my mind, but at least now, things were a little clearer. I’d been about to kiss a man! How could I even consider something so inappropriate?

  That, on top of breaking several rules, risking servants so I could escape the palace, and intimidating a senior minister’s son.

  Now, the rejection. Of course he would. I was plain and lanky, and all he really needed was a gullible princess to coerce a minister’s son into giving up a magical artifact.

  “Please, Kaiya, come with me.” The manipulator took my hand and tugged me along.

  Pulling back, I held my ground. “No, this is wrong. I understand your need to help your country, but maybe there are better channels. Let me present the case to my father again.”

  He let out a long sigh. “You are right. I am so sorry. I was so excited at your breakthrough earlier today, and again, that we so easily retrieved the Dragon Scale Lute. I will take you home now, before anyone gets in trouble.”

  His beautiful eyes seemed so defeated. He was placing my concerns over the welfare of his own people. Guilt clawed at my chest. I stared down at the pavestones until he tugged me into a walk.

  I kept my head down as we plodded in somber silence. At my side, Hardeep mumbled something unintelligible. I looked up and found the profile of his sharp chin. The sudden motion sent my head spinning again, a black tunnel narrowing my field of vision. I stumbled.

  His arm shot out and caught me. “Let me support you. We are fairly close to the palace.”

  Blinking away the blurriness, I leaned into him. Oh, if only I could help him without having to break so many rules.

  Up ahead, low voices muttered in Ayuri. Hardeep jerked to a stop, pulling me closer. If we’d returned the way we’d come, it might mean more Madurans, ready to ambush us again. My hand strayed to Cousin Kai-Long’s dagger as I scanned the surroundings.

  Hardeep’s hand patted me on the shoulder. “It’s all right. They are my people.”

  “How can you tell?”

  They turned a corner and he pointed. Dozens of men, women, and children huddled around tables in the middle of a street between two rows of dilapidated buildings. “Your father, in his generosity, allowed refugees from Ankira to stay on this block.”

  I’d never heard of such a decision, nor had I ever seen such a run-down place so close to the noble’s district. Then again, my processions always stuck to main roads, and the distance between the houses here suggested tertiary streets.

  Lit by the plump blue moon and the half white moon, barefooted children wearing threadbare kurta shirts chased each other in raucous circles. At the tables, where light baubles cast domes of light, women in faded sari gossiped among each other as they ate a meager meal. The few men were all middle-aged, dressed in tattered clothes, sitting on rickety chairs as they chatted.

  My belly clenched. They all had to be hungry and freezing, while my people feasted in the warmth of the palace.

  At my side, Prince Hardeep sighed. “Lord Peng understands our plight. He suggested bringing you here to meet me, but the Madurans’ hired knives were waiting. That’s why I met you closer to the palace. Come.”

  His hand, so large and reassuring, released mine. The lingering warmth in my fingers tingled away, leaving a hollow sensation in my chest. He beckoned me to follow.

  Up close, the pungent scent of turmeric hung in the air, mixing in with a cinnamon aroma, which swirled from steaming cups. Children stopped running and the men and women all looked up.

  Hardeep leaned in. “Most of these people had ties to the Cathay trade office in Akira. Your officials there helped many escape. Now, they work as laborers and servants for wages so low, they can barely feed themselves. Some of the prettier girls end up in the Floating World for rich men with exotic tastes.”

  My chest constricted. How horrible. I’d compared marriage to death, but what these girls suffered… I examined their expressions. All bore lines of worry on their proud faces. One young woman in particular looked striking. Her features were less round, her complexion lighter, speaking of some Cathayi blood. She lowered her head.

  “Prince…Hardeep?” The oldest man pressed his hands together. “Thank you for your assistance. Please, bring your guest to join us.” He scooted over and gestured to a pair of seats.

  Hardeep extended an open hand, inviting me to go first. �
�Please, Kaiya. You must be hungry.”

  My tummy rumbled its assent. Heat flared in my cheeks. I’d had at least six or seven cups of rice wine, and never had a chance to actually eat anything solid. With a nod of my head, I settled in the indicated chair.

  And nearly fell, again.

  Hardeep grabbed my arm, sparing me yet more embarrassment.

  “Poor girl.” One of the middle-aged women clucked, placing a cup of dark liquid in front of me. “Here, drink some chai. It will warm you up on this chill night.”

  I accepted it, savoring the warmth the cup radiated into my hands. Certainly not as intense as Hardeep’s warmth, but comforting nonetheless. I took a sip. The smooth tea slid down my throat, dancing in a burst of spices. Heat percolated through me.

  “Eat, eat!” Another woman slid a cracked porcelain plate in front of me. Another ladled what appeared to be shredded chicken in a yellow sauce on top of a round disk of flatbread.

  I looked at the center dishes from which the refugees served. My own plate must have accounted for half of what remained. I shook my head. “No, I can’t possibly…”

  Hardeep laughed. “In my homeland, even beggars will treat their guests as royalty.”

  How ironic. I forced a polite smile.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Eat. Otherwise, you will offend them.”

  I swept my gaze around the table. Expectant eyes met mine. Very well, I would eat. My stomach certainly demanded it, and it would be bad manners to decline. However, there didn’t seem to be any chopsticks or any other kind of utensils. I fiddled with a lock of hair.

  “Use your hands,” Hardeep said. “Tear the flatbread, eat it with the chicken.”

  Hands. I studied mine, which had touched ancient musical instruments, dirty shirts, furniture, and princes’ hands. Gulping air, I reached out and ripped off a piece of sauce-covered bread. It smelled wonderful. Bad manners or not, I pushed the whole thing in my mouth and chewed. Turmeric, sugar, and other spices swirled over my tongue. Piece after piece disappeared as my stomach urged me on.