by Jeff Wheeler
Bingmei stared at her in wonderment. “Only part of your soul is back?”
Zhuyi nodded. “My thinking soul. My feeling soul is still in the Grave Kingdom.”
Her words baffled Bingmei. She knew, of course, that every person had two souls—all the legends and stories agreed upon that. But the nature of the souls and what happened after death was a mystery that only Echion and Xisi understood. If the feeling part of her was gone, that explained why she smelled so different.
“We were sorry you died,” Bingmei said. “Mieshi is still heartbroken.”
Zhuyi shrugged. “I don’t remember what that feels like,” she said. “And neither will she when she dies and returns. I’m grateful to be rid of emotions. They were always a distraction. We are almost there.”
They had wandered outside the palace and down a series of walkways leading to an enclosed courtyard that looked like a quonsuun. A variety of weapons adorned the walls, each with meiwood hilts or poles. The blades had a smoky color and looked very old. Bingmei assessed the height of the stone walls, judging them too high for her to vault over with the meiwood cricket. Not that she possessed it anymore. How she missed it. In the back of her mind, she could sense the Phoenix Blade in the direction of the Hall of Memory.
“This way,” Zhuyi said, escorting her through the courtyard to the living quarters within. There were pallets and cots, and the air smelled of perfume. “This is for the female warriors,” she said. “In Fusang, men and women are not allowed to train together. The men are kept outside the inner palace. The only men trusted to serve within it are the eunuchs.”
“And those who serve the master,” Bingmei said.
“Yes. But only a few are given permission. Those most loyal to him. We serve the queen. We are her bodyguards, protectors. Defenders of the palace.” Gesturing to a cabinet, she said, “This is where the silk robes are kept. The old garments are put there, in that basket, and they will be washed by the maids and returned. A maid will also style your hair. The mistress likes novelty. She abhors untidy hair. Do not enter her presence as you are now. Do you have any questions?”
“Did you know Kunmia is dead?” Bingmei asked, hoping she could get a reaction out of her.
“Yes,” Zhuyi answered flatly. “Do you think I care about things like that now? My past life means nothing to me. It is a great privilege to serve the mistress now that she has returned. When you have finished changing, come practice in the courtyard with me. I will await you there.”
Bingmei nodded, saddened by the complacency, the lack of tenderness and feeling. Were the souls truly this separated? Was the other half of Zhuyi’s soul wandering the endless streets of the Grave Kingdom, grieving for Kunmia, for Mieshi? Although this version of Zhuyi was as dedicated as the one Bingmei remembered, as much of a rule follower, she’d lost the part of herself that cared who made the rules.
Deep in thought, Bingmei changed her clothes, the movements automatic, then went out to the courtyard to train with Zhuyi. The two of them practiced side by side, repeating the different forms they’d practiced in the quonsuun in the mountains. For a moment, the sweat and the strain of muscles brought Bingmei back in time. She could almost smell the pine needles and the crisp mountain air. Hear the clatter of pans as the cooks prepared meals.
Why had the quonsuuns been built? They were clearly from another era. Had they been a place of refuge for warriors displaced by Echion? Or had he perhaps established them for his warriors to prepare them for service in the palace?
And why had he built the Death Wall? Was there something about it that gave him power over the land of the living and the dead?
They trained together until Bingmei felt her stomach growling for food. She asked Zhuyi where she could get something to eat.
“When you leave, go to the servants’ hall just outside the training yard. You can get some bread there all day long. But the mistress will want you eating when she eats. Bathe and then report back to her quickly.”
“Where can I bathe?”
“There is a bathing room in the warriors’ compound. The water is from the river, and it’s terribly cold. But warriors do not need the kind of comforts reserved for concubines. We must be strong as the ice that feeds the river.”
Bingmei nodded and went off in search of the bathing chamber. Zhuyi was right, it was terribly cold. After she was done, a maid helped Bingmei comb and style her hair. Bingmei then dressed in a fresh silk robe and pants, cinching it closed with a silk belt.
Suddenly, she thought she smelled warm bread drizzled with honey. The scent was so delectable, she could nearly taste the treat. She stared around the empty changing room, wondering if someone had brought bread into the room.
Only then did she realize it wasn’t bread she was smelling, but someone’s emotions.
Someone she couldn’t see.
Looking across the room, she saw black smoke whipping around like it was caught in the wind. From the core of darkness stepped Rowen. She saw a brooch shaped like a spider on the front of his tunic.
Her jaw dropped in surprise.
The smell was coming from him. He stared at her with open admiration, his feelings causing that delicious smell. It made her heart ache with sudden joy. He’d been searching for her.
And he’d come to Fusang to help her escape.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Impossible
Rowen crossed the room in three quick strides, his smell engulfing her with the proximity. He gazed down into her eyes, his hand lifting to caress her cheek. She was so surprised by his sudden appearance, she didn’t know what to say, but that smell he radiated made her knees grow weak. He’d never made a secret of his admiration for her, yet she’d struggled to believe he could feel this for her. She was a no one. Short and pale. She hadn’t allowed herself to entertain even a whisper of a feeling for him.
“You’re still alive,” he sighed. His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth.
His touch ignited powerful sensations within her. She wasn’t sure whether she should run from them or savor them. Never in her life had she really believed anyone could love her in a deep way. Both the winter sickness and her perverse talent had stood in the way. But her appearance did not repel Rowen—it never had—and he knew her secret too. Still, he had come for her.
The relief at seeing him, a friendly face, finally overwhelmed her resistance, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest. When his arms encircled her, it felt so natural, so comfortable, so delicious. If this were a dream, she didn’t want to awaken from it.
She squeezed him, felt his arms tighten around her in response, and then she looked up into his face. “How did you . . . ?” Words failed her again. Her feelings hopped around like dozens of crickets, growing more agitated by the moment.
“I knew he brought you here,” Rowen said. “We’re connected, remember? After you and Cuifen were abducted, we came up with a gambit to try and rescue you.”
“But what about the darkness? And all the Qiangdao guarding Fusang?” she said incredulously. The smell of his love was intoxicating, even more so when she was close to him. She should pull away. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about him—the feelings were all so unfamiliar and strange. But every part of her body reacted to his closeness, his sweet smell. Her mouth was so dry it was unbearable.
“Because we had a Qiangdao to guide us,” he answered. He traced the tip of his finger down her chin. “Muxidi brought us past the defenses.”
Bingmei’s eyes widened with astonishment.
“King Zhumu was desperate to rescue his daughter, just as we were desperate to rescue you. We had no choice but to put our trust in him.”
Bingmei’s relief shriveled.
It must have shown on her face, because Rowen’s eyes crinkled. “He’s not the same man, Bingmei. Your forgiveness has altered him. I’ve never seen someone so determined to be helpful. He’s had dozens of chances to betray us, ever since we left Sihui. We’
ve encountered Echion’s forces again and again, but his knowledge saved us each time. You made it possible. If you hadn’t done what you did in that ugly dungeon, we would have had no hope whatsoever.” He was cupping her cheeks now, staring into her eyes. “I’ve felt your life has been in grave peril. That it has hung by a silk thread that could snap under the slightest strain. Yet here you are . . .”
In that moment, she wanted him to kiss her, and she feared it at the same time. Two vital forces yanked her souls in opposite directions. Shouldn’t she be worrying about escaping? Why couldn’t her mind think clearly? The risk he’d taken, that they’d all taken, was unimaginable.
“Your sister is here,” she told him, and the moment was broken. She smelled his surprise, his sour dread.
“Here?” he said in shock.
Bingmei nodded. “The daughters of all the noble houses have been brought to Fusang. As Echion’s concubines.” His father had been a prisoner too, but she could not tell him that yet. She knew that he still hoped Shulian would be found. Although he deserved to know the truth, it would break her heart to crush the last flower of hope in his chest. She told herself it wasn’t selfish to wait. Telling him now might endanger their escape.
His countenance fell. Bitterness and resentment and loathing mixed, tempering his previous joy. He frowned, trying to master himself and the surge of feelings.
“Jidi Majia is also here.”
“And so is Zhuyi,” Rowen said, nodding. “I saw her leave. She’s changed. She’s under some sort of spell.”
“She is,” Bingmei said. “It will break Mieshi’s heart. I don’t think Zhuyi will leave willingly. She’ll betray us if she finds out. But I would like to try and bring your sister and Cuifen, who just arrived. Are you the only one within the palace grounds? Who else came?”
“Marenqo is here,” he said, and Bingmei felt another thrill of hope surge through her. “The fisherman boy.” She could tell he was still trying to master his feelings of jealousy. “Damanhur and Mieshi. Jiaohua, of course. We have orders to rescue both you and Cuifen. Muxidi will guide us back to the servants’ gate so that we can escape. My job was to find where they were keeping you. Muxidi taught me how to use the meiwood spider so I could slip through the palace unseen. Do you know where my sister is being kept?”
“Yes, I do,” Bingmei said. She paused, then added, “She’s changed, Rowen. Her spirits are broken.”
Rowen nodded. “I can persuade her to come. Do you think Jidi Majia will help or hinder us?”
“He will help us, I think. I will try and talk to him. I’ll need time. Go back and tell the others you found me.”
“I’ll take you right now,” he said. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight again.”
Another voice interrupted them. Rowen’s eyes lifted to the doorway, flashing with fear. Bingmei whirled. It was Zhuyi. Her absence of emotion had made her imperceptible.
Bingmei’s heart spasmed with worry, fearful that her bond sister would sound the alarm.
“I know you,” Zhuyi said, walking into the room instead of leaving. “You’re the prince of Sajinau. And it is forbidden for a natural male to be in this part of the palace.”
Bingmei pulled away from Rowen’s embrace.
“Zhuyi, no,” Bingmei said, shaking her head. “I can’t let you turn him over to the master.”
The other woman continued to advance. “I’m not afraid of you, Bingmei. Or him. I can handle you both.”
Rowen touched the spider brooch and was immediately enveloped in black mist. Bingmei felt an icy wind graze the back of her neck as he disappeared into thin air.
Zhuyi’s eyes crinkled with wariness. Then she launched herself at Bingmei, her fist coming straight at her nose.
Bingmei dodged to the side and blocked her at the wrist. They traded a series of punches and blocks, and Bingmei felt her reflexes were barely adequate in her weakened state. Zhuyi’s skill exceeded hers—it was Zhuyi who had taught her many of the forms. Bingmei dropped to sweep low, but the other warrior leaped back, landing in a low dragon stance, fingers tight in the sword-hand technique.
Bingmei sprang at her, rushing forward to launch a series of snapping kicks, one after the other. Zhuyi dived forward, rolling so that Bingmei was driven toward the door. When Bingmei landed, she turned around just in time to block the attacks coming at her head and chest, ducking and weaving to avoid Zhuyi’s arms and legs.
A plume of smoke appeared, and Rowen suddenly materialized behind Zhuyi. Bingmei had thought he’d fled the room, but he’d been positioning himself to help. He punched her in the side and wrapped his other arm around her neck. Zhuyi kicked backward and then flipped him over her back. He landed hard on the marble ground. She followed through with a blow to his face, but Bingmei kicked Zhuyi in the knee. It made the other woman wince with pain.
Upon seeing Zhuyi attack Rowen, Bingmei had felt an overwhelming urge of protectiveness sweep over her. Rowen had not been trained in a quonsuun. Yes, he could fight—she’d seen him do so—but his skills were not comparable to what Kunmia had taught. Those protective urges had fanned something inside of her, and she felt like sobbing in relief as the phoenix power swelled in her breast.
Zhuyi snarled, and she struck at Bingmei with a series of kicks and punches, her movements deft and unpredictable. Yet the power flooding Bingmei made her faster, stronger, and she countered each of them. Grabbing Zhuyi’s arm, she dropped to a low bow stance and dragged the other woman off her feet and onto the ground.
Zhuyi struggled against Bingmei’s grip, bringing up her knee and trying to pivot away. Bingmei jumped over her and closed her fist in one of the techniques she’d recalled from the phoenix form. Unlike a regular fist punch, the forefinger was leading, allowing all the force to compress in the knuckle of that finger, reinforced by the thumb. She felt the magic swell within her as she struck Zhuyi’s forehead with that single knuckle.
The blow stunned Zhuyi. Bingmei watched the woman’s eyes roll back as she collapsed and started to quiver from the blow. It wasn’t a death strike, but it was enough to have concussed her.
Bingmei rose and backed away, watching as Zhuyi’s convulsions grew worse. Her whole body twitched, spittle dribbling from her lips. Bingmei worried that she’d permanently harmed her, but she felt a sense of reassurance that the phoenix magic was safely incapacitating Zhuyi.
Bingmei turned and saw Rowen rising, holding his back as he grimaced in pain. He had a look of admiration on his face. He embraced her again, then looked down at Zhuyi’s quivering body.
“She knows about me,” he said, his look hardening.
“I won’t kill her,” Bingmei said, wondering if he was implying that they should.
“I wouldn’t expect you to. But this means we need to hasten our escape. Let’s hide her at least.”
“Grab her legs,” Bingmei said and went over and heaved Zhuyi up by the armpits. Together, they carried her to the changing screen. Bingmei used the silk clothes to bind Zhuyi’s mouth in a gag and tie her wrists behind her back. She wished she could work knots like Quion.
A thrill ran through her. Quion was close. Her friends were waiting for her.
After they’d hidden Zhuyi and secured her body, Bingmei rose to her feet.
“Come with me,” Rowen said firmly. “Getting you out of here is my priority. If we succeed, then we’ll go back for Eomen and Cuifen.”
“All right,” Bingmei agreed. “If we encounter Jidi Majia along the way, then I’ll try to persuade him to come. I know the grounds better than you. Follow me.”
“Lead, and I’ll follow,” he said, smiling at her again. She smelled the sweetness again, the scent of honeyed bread.
Bingmei came to him and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for coming for me.”
Her show of affection thrilled him. He smiled again and then disappeared into wreaths of smoke.
Even though Rowen was invisible, Bingmei could still smell him. She�
��d glanced at the mirror before leaving the training room and knew that her hair was askew from the battle. If Xisi saw her like this, she’d not only be suspicious but angry. That meant she’d have to do her best to avoid the Dragon Queen too. She walked down the corridor alone, feeling that she was being watched surreptitiously. It took some willpower to walk with a purpose, like she’d always done in Wangfujing to avoid attracting unwanted attention to herself.
Yet she couldn’t suppress the fear that Echion already knew about Rowen and the others. He was the dragon—his senses were more powerful than hers. Anxiety raced within her. She saw the Hall of Unity and felt pangs of sadness. She would have to tell Rowen that his father was dead. But not yet. His emotions were already strained.
The sky overhead was a brilliant blue, and the sun burned her eyes with its intensity. It was a beautiful crisp summer morning, the air holding on to the morning chill in desperation. As she walked, she was struck anew by the colors of the palace, the beautiful embellishments and intricate woodwork and stone carvings. Again she felt the sensation that she had been in Fusang before the ensign had discovered it. Faded memories teased at her as she walked, smelling Rowen by her side although she could not see him.
“It feels like we’ve been here before,” she heard him whisper.
“Yes,” she answered softly, looking ahead and seeing no one on their path. In the memory she’d partially recalled in the concubines’ garden, it had felt like someone was with her. Was that person Rowen?
Servants filled the courtyard below them, lining up in rows to perform their palace duties in stately strides. The fear that Zhuyi might recover any moment made Bingmei quicken her stride.
The smell of Xisi struck her strongly, coming from straight ahead.
“Hide,” Bingmei whispered and darted to one of the nearest meiwood pillars. As she pressed her back against it, she heard the queen’s entourage coming from another building, heading toward the Hall of Memory. Bingmei risked a peek and saw Xisi trailed by a dozen or more concubines.