by CK Dawn
Father showed no sign of surprise, though he rarely revealed any emotion.
Lord Liang of Yutou scoffed. “Are you saying you were able to defend yourself against six armed men?”
The Yu-Ming lords from his province nodded, followed by several others.
I lowered my finger, which had unconsciously twirled a loose lock of my hair, and took a deep breath. “I was with Prince Hardeep of Ankira, who was trained by the Ayuri Paladins. He fended them off.”
More murmurs. No telling what they thought about a young princess, alone with a man, wandering the city streets at a late hour.
I nodded to Foreign Minister Song, kneeling among the other high officials. “I went to Foreign Minister Song’s villa, where I retrieved an artifact. An Arkothi lute, made from a dragon’s scale. When I played it, two of the assailants fled. The song the city heard last night, I played it myself.” I bowed low to the minister. “I am sorry to say that I lost the lute when I passed out.”
Foreign Minister Song cocked his head, a look of confusion on his face. He turned to Father and pressed his forehead to the ground. “Your Exaltedness, I am afraid I have never heard of a dragon scale lute in my possession.”
Perhaps Hardeep’s journal had been wrong? I gawked. “It was on the wall of your receiving room. It came from your trade mission to Vyara City twenty-nine years ago. Your son gave it to me.”
“I see,” the minister said. “There were many things which I received as gifts from Madura after a successful trade agreement. We all did.” He nodded to Chief Minister Tan. “I do seem to recall a musical instrument from Grand Vizier Rumiya, though it did not have strings. My no-good son left home to start a job this morning, so I can only ask my chamberlain about it.”
“Where is the lute now?” Father asked.
I cast my eyes down. “I think Prince Hardeep took it.”
Father turned to his ministers. “Deputy Yan, investigate the princess’ claims. It may not be the Madurans, but I find it suspicious that large men would target the Ankiran refugees, the late Lord Peng, and the princess.”
“As you command, Your Exaltedness.” Deputy Yan bowed.
“General Tang.” Father gestured toward one of the armored men. “Mobilize your men. Coordinate with the city watch to scour the streets for Prince Hardeep. I want him brought before me.”
Sinking to a knee, General Tang placed a fist to the ground. “As the Emperor commands.”
My heart rattled in my chest. I might’ve just sacrificed Prince Hardeep and myself to help Cousin Kai-Long. Still, it was the right thing to do. A princess shouldn’t hide behind others’ lies.
“Lord Peng,” Father said. “You may return to your place among your peers.”
Kai-Long bowed his head, rose, and strode back to his place among the Tai-Ming. I started to sit.
“Wait.” Father’s gaze locked on me. “Since Lord Peng has been elevated to Tai-Ming, all the first-rank hereditary lords, and many of the second rank, are now here. With their advice, I will pass judgment on your transgressions yesterday, as it has bearing on how we deal with the rebellion in the North.”
Sixteen
Unenviable Choices
A hundred disparate breaths rustled behind me as I knelt in the front row of the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Apparently, my public humiliation would not wait until after my brother’s wedding after all.
Chief Minister Tan cleared his throat again. “Princess Kaiya, step forward.”
Rising, I kept my shoulders straight and chin high as I walked over to the place Cousin Kai-Long had just vacated. I focused on that spot, lest the curious faces of all the lords and ministers reduce me to a quivering mass of nerves. More than a few murmured, mostly showing appreciation for my poise. If only they knew how contrived it was.
I stretched my arms out to straighten my long-hanging sleeves and brushed my gown to my shins. Sinking to my knees, I placed my forehead to the floor.
“Rise.” Father’s voice quivered. If anything, the tone sounded like the one he’d used at Mother’s funeral.
“Your Exaltedness,” I said, acknowledging his command and straightening.
“Yesterday, you entered the Hall of Pure Melody without permission and handled Yanyan’s pipa. Last night, you left the palace without permission, imposed your will on a minister’s son, and entered the holy grounds of the Temple of Heaven without a blessing from the priests.”
There was no honor in denying what everyone in the room knew. “I did.” I bowed low.
“What do you have to say in your defense?” His voice sounded imperious, as if he were addressing one of the rebellious lords of the North and not his own daughter.
So much for the rare smile he had afforded me the day before. Keeping my head down, I took a deep breath to settle myself. “I wanted to help the beleaguered people of Ankira.”
“In the Hall of Pure Melody? In the Temple of Heaven?” Though he was undoubtedly expressionless, his voice hinted at a rise in his eyebrow.
It’d made so much sense yesterday, but sounded so stupid now. I’d let Hardeep’s enthusiasm get the better of me. “I thought by learning the magic of Dragon Songs, I could convince everyone to support Ankira.” My own voice squeaked in my ears.
Chuckling broke out among the assembled men. No doubt they thought me naïve to believe I could revive a long-lost art.
Then the hall fell silent.
I dared a glance up. Father’s lip hinted upward just a hair to one side, his tacit message ordering the men to silence. His voice swept from left to right, something I’d never noticed before. “We are a nation governed by the Mandate of Heaven, and everyone, including myself, must follow the laws set forth. Princess Kaiya has courageously confessed to her transgressions. For her punishment, I will hear counsel.”
Someone—from the weight and motion, Kai-Long—rose to a knee. “Your Exaltedness, if I may. The princess’ intentions were good and selfless, even if her methods were misplaced. I would recommend lenience.”
“Lord Peng,” the Emperor said, using Cousin Kai-Long’s new title. “As the newest member of the Tai-Ming, you show bravery and initiative to speak first. We must remember, however, that horrible crimes have been committed in history with the best intentions. The Teleri Empire justifies the gang rape of every woman in its realm to breed an army of so-called peacekeepers.”
My heart lurched. Since when did rape become the moral equivalent of trespassing?
“Your Exaltedness.” Another man, Xiulan’s father Lord Zhao from his voice, rose to a knee in a shuffle of robes. “The Five Classics state that a subject may learn more from forgiveness than punishment.”
Father responded, “The Classics also state that a ruler who is too gentle with his people invites rebellion. Just think if the Sultanate of Levastya had censured the priests who abandoned their patron god. Perhaps their king would not be living in exile and his people subjects of a foreign conqueror. With a rebellion now bubbling over in the North, wouldn’t it be better for a ruler to make an example of those who disobey him?”
My heart went from lurching to racing. Father really was going to make an example of me. If I was lucky, the penalty would be banishment. Then, I could follow Hardeep to Ankira. However, if any of them mentioned the Temple of Heaven again, a death sentence could be warranted.
Just behind me, Eldest Brother Kai-Guo shuffled. He probably wanted to speak on my behalf, but he never went against Father. Second Brother Kai-Wu would certainly say something in my defense, but the light sound of his breath suggested he was dozing. Not surprising, given his lack of interest in these functions of state.
“Your Exaltedness.” The voice of Tian’s father, Lord Zheng of Dongmen Province, echoed in the hall. “The princess has never shown any sign of defiance before today.”
“As the Classics say,” the Emperor said, “without correction from a parent for a first offense, no matter how mundane, a good son might one day become a rebel, a good daughter a whore. Such imper
tinence—”
I bristled inside, a roaring in my ears drowning out the rest of Father’s words. All I’d done was try to help a persecuted people. Apparently, that was the first step to selling my body and then instigating a rebellion. It wasn’t like I’d offered myself to the prince. Not like Hardeep would have taken my bony, curveless body if I had.
Impertinence, was it? Let them all see impertinence.
Gasps erupted as I rose from my bow. “If I may, Your Exaltedness. The Five Classics also say that when nobody acts to correct a moral wrong, a minister should remonstrate those who would turn a blind eye.”
The Emperor stared at me, expressionless. “I am glad you have studied the Five Classics. Are you now a minister in addition to being a priest and grand musician?”
The words might as well have been a slap. Even though every fiber of my upbringing urged me to bow in contrition, I squared my shoulders. “Your Exaltedness, I may not be a minister, but none have spoken on behalf of a people downtrodden by our open trade policies. I may not be a priest, but even the eyes of a girl can see the immorality of our ways. In the hands of an aggressive foreign army, our guns have widowed women. Our firepowder has orphaned children. We profit from others’ suffering. And last night, their people were murdered on our soil. Surely Heaven would not condone it.”
The hall fell utterly silent. A slight tilt of my head gave me a glance through the corner of my eye at all the gawking lords and officials. The Emperor remained inexpressive.
“Your Exaltedness.” Courage waning under Father’s glare, I added the honorific address to the end of my tirade.
I pressed my forehead back down to the floor. What had possessed me to speak, to embarrass Father in front of all the lords and ministers like that? Maybe before my rant, I would’ve been confined to quarters until marriage. Now, I’d left the Emperor no choice but to administer a more serious punishment. The Founder of the dynasty had stripped titles, cut out tongues, even executed families to five generations for such outbursts. My palms clammed up.
“Chief Minister Tan,” the Emperor said.
“Your Exaltedness.” The Chief Minister’s voice sank, suggesting his bow.
“Let it be noted that we shall not extend the trade agreement with Madura.”
Another collective gasp might have finally sucked the last bit of air out of the room. It had, if my spinning head were any indication.
“As the Emperor commands, so shall it be noted.” Chief Minister Tan beckoned toward a scribe.
“Let it be further noted that Princess Kaiya’s death sentence shall be suspended as long as she remains obedient, and shall be entirely revoked if she proves worthy to the realm.”
I looked up. Father was smiling. A real smile. Even more than when Mother had still been alive. “Very good, Kaiya,” he said. “I knew you could do it. You acted out of compassion, and you defended your decision even at risk to yourself.”
My cheeks flushed. Praise from Father was rare, and in public was unheard of. There must have been a reason.
He continued, “Even if you one day learn to sing Dragon Songs, do not use it as a crutch when a moral argument, spoken from conviction in your heart, will suffice.”
Especially if magic was a beacon for a dragon, as the elf Xu suggested. I bowed again. “Yes, Your Exaltedness.”
“Remember this lesson well, for even though a woman will never sit on the Jade Throne, she may one day rule as regent.”
Regent? Such a strange thing for Father to suggest. There had been no regent since the Founder’s Consort, who ruled for eighty years in that capacity before dying at the unprecedented age of one hundred and twenty-four.
I would never assume such a title, but still, Father had offered me rare praise, in front of all the ministers and hereditary lords. Emboldened, I straightened. “What about the remaining year on the trade agreement?”
The Emperor’s smile faded. “As Chief Minister Tan said, the treaty was negotiated under the imperial plaque. To renege outside of the proscribed stipulations would be tantamount to me forsaking the Mandate of Heaven. Perhaps it would invite another Hellstorm. Do not fear. Less than a year remains.”
I sighed. Ankira did not have a year. “And if Lord Peng’s suspicions are confirmed, that the Madurans assassinated his father?”
“Of course, such an action would void the agreement.” Father’s gaze lifted from me and settled over the room. “However, my agents believe it is Lord Tong of Wailian County. The rumors many of you have heard are true. Chief Minister.”
Chief Minister Tan stepped forward, prompting me to kneel. He unfurled a scroll, cleared his throat, and read:
“To Wang Zhishen, Emperor of Cathay. The four counties of Wailian, Tieshan, Jinjing, and Hongzhou have long been exploited by the rest of the realm. Our pleas for fairness have fallen on your deaf ears. Therefore, we hereby declare ourselves the independent Kingdom of Fengshan. Withdraw imperial troops from our sovereign land. Not only will any incursion on your part be faced with fierce resistance, we will cut off your firepowder supplies and share the secret formula with your enemies. From Tong Baxian, King of Fengshan.”
A cacophony of angry protests echoed throughout the hall. I covered my ears to dull the roar.
After a moment, Father silenced them with a single glance. “I will hear your counsel.”
Uncle Han, Tai-Ming lord of Fenggu Province, slammed his hand down on the marble floor. “Your Exaltedness, we must crush them immediately.”
Several of the Yu-Ming nodded in agreement, but Tai-Ming Lord Liang of Yutou Province shook his head. “Wailian Castle is impregnable, and those counties monopolize firepowder ingredients. If they sell to potential enemies…”
I twirled a lock of hair. This must have been how Ankira felt so many years before.
Tai-Ming Lord Zheng of Dongmen Province cleared his throat. “Your Exaltedness, we can blockade the Iron River and cut off their access to ports.”
Lord Liang shook his head again. “Your Exaltedness, if Wailian establishes direct trade with Rotuvi, they could access the deep-water port in Iskuvius and use the ships of Serikoth, with whom we do not have a sphere of trade agreement. It would tempt Tarkoth to end its own treaty with us. I advise we normalize relations with this Fengshan and levy tariffs so they can use Jiangkou.”
“Appeasement!” Lord Han tugged his beard. “Your Exaltedness, if you let those four counties go, you will only encourage others.”
Xiulan’s father, Lord Zhao, turned back to the lesser nobles. “Almost all the hereditary lords are here. I trust none of them would rise in arms against the Mandate of Heaven?”
All the assembled lords bowed like ripples gliding across Sun-Moon Lake.
“Good,” Lord Han said. “Our combined provincial and imperial soldiers outnumber those four paltry countries thirty to one. Let us crush this rebellion.”
The chamber shook with the confident roars of approval. I looked up at Father. His face betrayed nothing, which meant there was a possibility of civil war. Thousands would perish. Others would end up in poverty like the Ankiran refugees. Certainly there was another way. I peeked back at Lord Liang, the lone dissenter up to now, and Kai-Long. Their expressions might have been mirror images, staring off into the distance, jaws relaxed. Pensiveness, perhaps, and neither appeared ready to intervene.
And who would? Their voices would fall unheard, drowned out by the roar of bloodlust. Those robust chants, a symphony of voices speaking as…one? I closed my eyes and listened. Yes, there it was, a rhythm in the disparate voices. The pulse of fervent men.
Only the power of your intent can compel the sound beyond its physical limitations, Lord Xu had said not an hour before. Hear the waves of Sun-Moon Lake and allow them to lend you their strength. Holding the rhythm of the men in my heart, I stood. “Your Exaltedness.”
The shouts swallowed up my voice. Even standing, I went ignored. No, I could not fail, not now. Toes gripped to the floor, I straightened my spine. Beneath the s
haking marble dwelt a resolve, that of the earth, preventing the excitement from descending into cacophonic disorder. Seizing that resolve in my soul, I spoke again. “Your Exaltedness.”
The din of men subsided. Father looked at me, eyes wide for the first time I could remember. Yet now that I had everyone’s attention, what had I planned to say? I surveyed all those men, the ones who surely resented a woman—no, a girl not yet blossomed—in their midst. A few started to mutter.
Now was the time to speak, lest my single voice get lost. Speak with the conviction of your heart, Father had said. Tian’s pebble squeezed tightly in my fist, I bowed my head. “Your Exaltedness, allow me to marry Lord Tong on the condition that he submit to the Mandate of Heaven.”
Silence.
Enough to consider the weight of my words. I knew nothing of Lord Tong. He was a stodgy Northerner, like General Lu. What if he were even worse? If he were the domineering type, all I’d learned about sound and music these past two days would go to waste. And no matter what, I would never see Hardeep again.
Lord Liang broke the silence. “Your Exaltedness, the princess’ suggestion is sound. It will allow us to bring the four counties back into the realm without conflict.”
“Appeasement!” Lord Han said.
Locking eyes on me, Kai-Long—Lord Peng—nodded. “Your Exaltedness, I agree with Lord Han. If another lord decides to rebel, there are no more imperial daughters left to marry out.”
I stared at him. As a diplomat, he’d never advocated war.
“Your Exaltedness,” said Tai-Ming Lord Wu of Zhenjing Province, father of Kai-Wu’s bride-to-be. “This is a special case. While no other place in Cathay can repel your armies, we could never take Wailian Castle by force.”
Father’s lips curved downward for a split second. “Chief Minister Tan, send a messenger bearing an imperial plaque to Lord Tong. If he agrees to submit to the Mandate of Heaven, the four counties in rebellion will be incorporated into a new Fengshan Province with him promoted to Tai-Ming lord.” He turned and held my gaze, his eyes drooping in defeat. “He will also wed my daughter, placing their future sons sixth in line to the Jade Throne.”