by CK Dawn
Yes, better to think of Hardeep. I eyed the vermillion silk bundle as Xiulan placed it on the table with two hands. No doubt a pillow book. With a shy tilt of her head, Xiulan gestured toward it with an appropriately delicate wave of her hand, inviting me to pick it up.
Feigning the disinterest I would have had just a few days before, I bowed my head and lifted it with the formality of a minister accepting an imperial decree. Hidden beneath my silk gown, my heart pounded. I unwound the red cord bindings, then the silk wrapping. The light green cover was innocuous enough, save for the title Cloud Rain, emblazoned in gold characters.
“It’s fairly new,” Xiulan said. “By imperial palace woodblock artist Gao Liang. It was presented to your mother thirty years ago, when she married the Emperor. Open it.”
Cheeks hot, I opened it somewhere in the middle. I sucked in a sharp breath. The imperial archives might boast the largest collection of books in the world, but no doubt, this particular book wasn’t kept there.
Glimmering in vibrant colors, a man and woman were locked in an embrace with lifelike radiance. Not only that, their mutual affection spilled off the page. Just looking at it brought labored breaths. Heat surged inside of me. It seemed remotely similar to the emotions Hardeep stirred in me. If it were the two of us, acting out the image in the book…his weight on top of me… Biting my lip, I tried not to squirm.
Pulling her gaze away from the page, Xiulan wiped her brow. “Palace artist Gao Liang could infuse his art with emotion-evoking magic. When I say how I grew close to the Crown Prince so quickly, I would credit this book for part of it.”
How dangerous was that? Both dangerous and helpful, depending on the circumstance of a marriage. Thoughts of Hardeep’s closeness earlier in the day mingled with the book’s magical impact on me. Him, behind me, chest nearly pressed to my back. I shut the book and fanned myself with it. “Thank you for your gift.”
Xiulan bowed her head. “Perhaps this will make your marriage to Lord Tong more palatable.”
Him again. Faceless up to now, my inevitable destiny loomed in the recesses of my mind like the mythical Black Fist spies. I set the book down as if it were a hot plate. If it couldn’t be with Hardeep, perhaps it would be better to take the tonsure and live life out as a nun. Though it was unlikely anyone would let me do it, since my value as a princess was determined by whom I could marry.
Unless I could revive a long-dead art. Something I had already started, with Hardeep’s help. On the table, the pillow book’s gold lettering beckoned me. Heat and desire cascaded through me. Tonight, I’d give myself to Hardeep, and no one would have to know. I just had to get to him before the Night Blossoms did.
Twenty
Indecision
From where I stood just outside the double doors to the Hall of Pure Melody, I listened to the arrhythmic clops of boots across the central courtyard. There marched a contingent of imperial guards, casting long shadows from the blue and white moons.
Every nerve tingling with desire for Hardeep, I couldn’t return to the imperial residence. Not tonight, or at least not now. Once behind those walls, there would be no getting out until morning, and he’d forget all about me.
My stomach twisted into a knot again, as my better sense warred with the primal urges brought on by the pillow book. I’d strong-armed Secretary Hong into allowing me to come here, ostensibly to retrieve a book from the music library. From his wringing hands, no doubt he thought me insane given the trouble caused by visiting the day before. The poor old man seemed tired all the time, but ever since I played the lute for Hardeep, he looked as if he might keel over and die.
The two guards, as well, lacked their usual composure. Shoulders slumped and heads hanging, they resembled the crude illustrations of the laborers who built the Great Wall six hundred years before. I closed my eyes and listened. Yes, their hearts were beating slowly and sluggishly. If they were all so tired, perhaps it wouldn’t take much more to put them into a sleep. There had been a song like that in the book…
Light, slippered feet pattered up the Hall of Pure Melody’s marble steps. I opened my eyes to find Han Meiling, cloak in hand. Bowing, she presented it.
“Come.” Legs trembling, I stepped over the ghost-tripping threshold and into the main corridor.
Secretary Hong and the two guards followed. I shuffled down the hall to the performance hall’s open double doors. If I entered without permission, it would be the second time breaking the same rule in as many days.
Was this worth the risk? Father had only suspended my death sentence as long as I remained obedient.
No, I was protected. They needed me to marry Lord Tong. I hummed the musical notes, considering. The Night Blossoms were the epitome of Cathayi beauty and grace, the exact opposite of me. Prince Hardeep wouldn’t be able to resist their charms.
Then again, that’s what men did. The Floating World wouldn’t exist without men’s urges. No, I couldn’t let it happen. With a deep breath, I entered and swept across the performance hall’s floor.
Near the center, I stopped and listened for the heartbeats of my small entourage. In this acoustically perfect chamber, they all pulsed loudly in my ears, the rhythm slow and tired.
Drawing in a quick breath, I gripped my toes to the floor and straightened my posture. I hummed the tune more loudly. Like a lullaby, it dipped and rose in gentle waves, slowing with each refrain. The men wavered in their spots.
My own stamina guttered. Maybe it wouldn’t hold out. Maybe I would pass out before they did. I forged ahead with my hum, despite my wobbling legs and heavy head. Just a little more. Like a flame burning the last of its wax, I spit out one last stanza.
Secretary Hong, the imperial guards, and Meiling all slumped to the ground. I did, too.
I propped myself up on my elbows to find their eyes closed, breaths shallow. Asleep? Summoning my last drop of energy, I picked myself off the ground and trudged over. My feet might be disproportionally large, but now, they also seemed to be encased in Estomari concrete.
I started to bend over to confirm they were asleep, but thought the better of it. I might very well fall over and not stand again until morning. If this were the cost of magic, it didn’t seem possible for the legendary Yanyan to sing Avarax to sleep.
Several more paces and I reached the door. I rested against the doorframe, letting my flagging strength grow little by little. I took a few minutes to consider my foolishness. In the courtyard, I’d stick out like a cloud on a sunny day.
But past the courtyard, it was all alleys between the buildings, and the guest pavilions weren’t that far away. My heart pumped faster, replacing my fatigue with nervous energy. A few more deep breaths, and I was ready to try. For Hardeep. Show him the pillow book, and perhaps he would feel the same affection.
Vitality returning by the moment, I tiptoed down the corridor to the hall’s entrance. I paused at the threshold and peeked out. A few officials walked through the courtyard, but there were no imperial guards.
Donning the cloak Meiling had brought, I pulled the hood over my head and peeked out of the hall again. The officials from before had walked even farther away, and still, no imperial guards appeared to be around. I hurried down the steps, nearly tripping on my gown along the way.
Running would certainly draw the attention of any eyes I’d missed in my initial scan, so I walked at a moderate pace. South and east towards the closest alley off the courtyard. When I turned the corner, I let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem as if anyone had seen me, or at least noted it was me.
I would be reunited with Prince Hardeep soon. The fatigue from before seemed to melt away, replaced by a renewed vigor and excitement. And need. I shuffled quickly through the alleys, pausing to look around each corner for any stray official or guard.
After several minutes, I came within two turns of Nine Courtyard. Soon, very soon! Hugging the pillow book to my chest, I took a step into an alley. I caught an imperial guard in my peripheral vision and quickly
ducked back the way I’d come. How stupid of me! In my excitement, I’d forgotten to check, even forgotten to use my ears. The guard would surely challenge a cloaked and hooded stranger, carrying a mysterious bundle to the chest.
Holding my breath, I pressed back against the wall and listened. The booted footsteps…headed in the opposite direction. Not daring to let out a breath, I loosened my sweaty fists. In the future, if I were to make a habit of sneaking around, it would be worthwhile to learn the patrol patterns.
When the footsteps turned a corner, I edged forward…and paused again. Another sound lurked in the symphony of the night, somewhere behind me. I spun around to find its source.
Nothing. I surveyed the space for a few more seconds. Shaking the doubts out of my head, I continued into the alley, stopping again at the edge of the courtyard and looking at the pavilion where I’d left Prince Hardeep.
No! Girls giggled from within, mingling with a deep male laugh. My shoulders slumped. Perhaps he’d already started drinking, already started acting out pictures from the pillow book with the Night Blossoms.
Hollow in my belly, I crept from tree to tree, deeper into the garden, and then tiptoed up to the veranda that connected all the pavilions. Curiously, no guards stood watch outside. Perhaps they were posted inside.
At Hardeep’s pavilion, I pressed my ear up against the closest window’s latticework.
“Yes, lower,” Prince Hardeep said, to the giggles of at least two Night Blossoms.
One of the ladies let out a primal moan. Voice panting, she said, “Your Excellency is so well-endowed.”
If my stomach could twist any more, it could be used as a New Year’s knot decoration. I meant nothing to him beyond my ability to save his own homeland. I held a hand over my mouth.
“I didn’t know the foreigner could speak Cathayi,” a high-pitched girl’s voice said from behind.
My heart leapt into my throat. I whipped around. There was no one there. The courtyard was empty. “Show yourself.”
“Is that even the prince’s voice?” The voice changed, now sounding suspiciously similar to my own, and came from…the stone dragon overlooking the pond?
A ghost, perhaps? A chill crawled up my spine. But no, it couldn’t be. Sun-Moon Palace’s layout confused ghosts, herding them out through the alleys’ twists and turns.
“Who are you?” I hissed. Closing my eyes, I listened for a telltale breath.
There, in the eaves. Hidden in the trickling of the palace stream, quieter than the Night Blossoms making the clouds and rain, breathed a slow, light breath. I looked up, just in time to see a shadow flutter away. The breath disappeared.
Regardless who the mysterious girl was, she was right: that wasn’t Prince Hardeep’s voice in the pavilion, and up to now, all his words had been spoken in Cathayi. Steeling myself against what I would inevitably see, I burst through the doors.
There, a Night Blossom mounted the Minister of Appointments himself. Her gown hung loosely at her elbows. Another almost-naked Night Blossom lay on her side, head propped on an elbow, a hand hidden somewhere beneath the first’s gowns.
I cast my eyes at the floor. “Where is Prince…the Blind Musician?”
“Your Highness!” The minister pushed the woman off. Covering himself, he rose and bowed.
Wide-eyed, the Night Blossoms exchanged glances. The princess? one mouthed. The other nodded. They both gathered their gowns up around themselves. Kneeling, they pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Utter silence. I opened and closed my mouth. Had I gone deaf? My cheeks burned hot. Minister Hu barely covered himself with a woman’s silk gown, exposing his rotund belly. Not like I had a clear view, since I kept my gaze averted. The smell…
“Where is Prin—the Blind Musician?” I said, this time louder and with all the righteous indignation I could muster. Never mind all the rules I was breaking.
“Your Highness.” Minister Hu’s voice, usually harsh, wobbled with what could only be worry. “The musician…the musician wanted to see the moonlight over the gardens.”
I stared at his forehead. “Where are the guards? There were explicit orders that the Blind Musician stay here.”
“Yes, well…” the minister licked his lips as sweat gathered on his brow. Then, his eyebrows clashed together. “You are supposed to be dining with the Crown Princess. Why are you here?”
Both of us were in compromising positions, and now it was a battle of wills. One I refused to lose. I turned to the Night Blossoms. “Where is the Blind Musician?”
One looked up at the minister, then back. Her lips trembled. “Your Highness, the musician bribed the minister.”
Lips trembling, Minister Hu plopped to his knees and slammed his forehead to the Ayuri wool rug. “Forgive me, Your Highness. Please, please, don’t tell the Emperor.”
My jaw clenched. The ever-uptight Minister Hu, literally caught with his pants down, partaking of prostitutes meant for someone else and taking a bribe. “When will the Blind Musician return?”
“He said by dawn,” the second Night Blossom said.
I twirled a lock of my hair, so unruly compared to the Night Blossoms’ perfection. Where would Prince Hardeep have gone? Someplace with something more important than the realm’s best food and a pair of beautiful women. To think I’d almost shirked all sense of duty and given myself to him. “What are your names? What house do you come from?”
“Jasmine and Peony from the Jade Teahouse,” one said.
“Be sure to tell your proprietress what happened tonight.” I locked my glare on Minister Hu, whose head dropped again. “We will never speak of this again. And if I hear of any misfortune coming to the Jade Teahouse or its Night Blossoms, I will ensure that you are held responsible. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness!” He knocked his head against the floor three more times.
“Now get back to what the Emperor pays you for.” I spun on my heel and left. I might have earned a life-long enemy in Minister Hu, but as long as I ensured Jasmine and Peony shared their story among their sisters, it would be leverage to use against him. I would send a handmaiden to the Jade Teahouse in the Floating World tomorrow to confirm everyone’s wellbeing.
In the meantime, Prince Hardeep was gone, along with my impulse to escape marriage to Lord Tong. My hand strayed to Tian’s pebble. What had I been thinking? The nation’s stability relied on my sacrifice. I squeezed the pillow book, angry at myself for succumbing to its magic.
Now, I had to protect the guards and secretary from punishment. With extra spring in my step, I hurried back through the alleys with much less care than on my way.
Until the same sound as before whispered on the night’s breeze. Footsteps? Breathing? It was almost a mingling of the two. The interloper who’d spoken, perhaps. I tracked it to its source, but saw nothing. Shrugging off my suspicions, I continued to the central plaza.
Dozens of soldiers, all armed for battle, marched toward the palace entrance in exacting ranks. It was strange, for this late hour, but thankfully nobody looked in my direction. The steps to the Hall of Supreme Harmony and imperial archives stood empty. There was no activity at the Hall of Pure Melody, at least not on the outside. Had my sleeping retinue been discovered, surely there would be quite the commotion there.
What a mistake. Father had said never to use magic as a crutch. I frowned at the pillow book, which I’d planned to give Prince Hardeep in hopes that it would spark his affection for me. That wasn’t true love. No, if someone were to love me, it shouldn’t be because of some magic cut into the lines of a woodblock print. Guilt wrenched my insides.
I ran as quietly as I could. Up the steps. Through the double doors. On the other side, I blew out a breath and listened. In the central chamber, at least one of the three men snored. Other than that, no other human sounds carried through the halls. For now, at least, my most recent ill-advised escapade had gone unnoticed.
I returned to the central chamber, where Secretary Hong,
Meiling, and the two imperial guards slept. I walked across the floor and bent down over one of the guards. “Wake up.”
He stretched his arms out and yawned, but then rolled over back into sleep. At his side, the other snored. Reaching out to both of them, I shook their shoulders. The second just grunted.
Sighing, I thought back to the book of musical magic. Had it told how to reverse a magically induced sleep? I mentally listed what I remembered: Inducing sleep. Evoking rage. Arousing lust. Stirring fear. But nothing on how to rouse someone from sleep. Walking back to the guards, I pondered the problem. In order to put them to sleep in the first place, they had to already be tired. Me, too. The song, like a child’s lullaby, had gone from a moderate pace to quieter and slow.
At least now my energy had returned. Meanwhile, these four had already benefited from half an hour of sleep. Maybe reversing the song would work, by starting slow and soft and increasing the tempo. Like my masters’ duet, where each part interacted with the other. It was worth a try.
First, I shook them some more, in hopes that it would bring them to the edge of consciousness. Then I squatted low, feet flat and toes gripping the floor. The men’s breaths, though light, rose and fell in near synchronicity. I hummed, setting the beat to one’s inhalations. Slowly at first; then I increased the tempo.
The first guard responded, his chest rising in faster clips. The second and Meiling soon joined him. Secretary Hong, however, remained the same, like a bass beat; stubborn, fighting against my song. I hummed louder, switching my focus to Hong’s heart.
He squirmed a little, but still showed no other sign of waking. It wasn’t working. Perhaps…I considered the storage room. A musical instrument should help magnify the effect. I started to the door.