The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

by Weina Dai Randel

  “Run, you want to run? You want to run away from me?” The Emperor unsheathed his sword. “Guard the door, Captain! He’s not going anywhere!”

  The Captain answered and came to the parlor. The boy stopped, gulping in fear. Then he leaped into the courtyard and ran to the other side of the corridor.

  “So you think you can run? I’ll run with you.” A shoe smacked the flutist’s back. In a moment, the Emperor ran down the corridor too.

  The boy yelled shrilly and slowed.

  “Run, run again. Do you want to keep running? Do you think you can run away from me?” The Emperor caught him and stabbed his shoulder with his sword.

  The boy fell off the stairs to the courtyard. Rolling on the ground, he groaned, blood spurting from his wound. My stomach clenched, and I covered my mouth.

  “I order you, now.” The Emperor’s voice sounded like venom as he stepped into the courtyard. “Get up. Run until the last drop of blood drains out of you.”

  “Father.” Taizi stomped across to the courtyard. He was so tall, his head nearly reaching the eaves of the building behind him. He had always been a towering, terrifying presence each time I saw him, but now he drooped his head, looking small and pitiful.

  “You’re going to kill him, Father.” He balled his fists and loosened them. Again and again. The muscles of his bare chest and shoulders bulged. He looked as though he had just stepped off a wrestling ring, but there was something different in his eyes. Those were not the eyes of a fighter but an injured man.

  “I will kill him.” The Emperor pointed at the boy. “This thing shames me. What he did in my court, under my nose. I shall kill him a thousand times; still, a thousand deaths of this thing doesn’t make me feel better. I do not feel better.” He pointed his sword at his son. “I shall kill you too, so nobody knows what an ignominy you are. You are my son, my heir, yet you’re an abomination—you shame me.”

  Taizi’s bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the figure on the ground.

  “Confess now. Why did you do this to me? Why?”

  The heir did not answer.

  “Did he tell you to do this to me?”

  “No one told me, Father.”

  “He.” The Emperor breathed hard and waved wildly, pointing at something in the air. “He! Did he tell you to do this to me? He said this would happen. He said he would shame me!”

  The Emperor was trembling, the skin on the right side of his face stretching longer, and suddenly the corner of his mouth twitched, and his whole face contorted. So familiar… He looked just like that when he had talked to me in the ring of candles…and I could even hear a thread of fear in his voice that I had never before heard during the daytime.

  “It has nothing to do with anyone. It’s my fault, Father. Let him go.”

  The Emperor stood perfectly still. Then, clang. His sword slipped to the ground. His shoulders slumped, and his head drooped. He looked as if he had aged ten years.

  “Wake him up, Chengqian.” He picked up his sword, calling Taizi’s given name. “He’s losing consciousness.”

  He sounded resigned. I breathed out in relief.

  Casting a grateful look at his father, Taizi tore a strip of cloth off the boy’s pants, knelt down one knee, and wound it around his shoulder. There was tenderness in Taizi’s eyes that I had never expected to see from him, the mountain-size wrestler.

  “Look into his eyes, call his name, make certain he sees you and knows it’s you.” The Emperor tossed his sword to the heir. “Then kill him.”

  I shuddered, and the stark light reflected off the blade and pierced my eyes. I shielded them with my sleeves. When I put down my sleeves again, Taizi, his hands trembling, was still winding the strip of cloth, his movement slow and broken.

  “Do it.”

  “Father—” Taizi’s voice cracked.

  He would not do it, I was sure of it. He would plead with the Emperor and make him change his mind. I did not know what the heir would say, but he had to.

  “Do it! Or you are no longer my son.”

  Taizi lowered his head. The muscles on his back swelled to form round mounds, those on his shoulders hardened, his skin glittered, and his eyes were still like death.

  Then he picked up the sword and slid it through his lover’s heart.

  There was a moment of silence, so long that it seemed it would never end. Taizi howled, pounding his chest. The crowd murmured. Plum whispered something. I turned away and wiped my face, pushing back the moisture welling in my eyes. I might never understand why the heir loved a boy, and I might never know how it felt to kill a beloved person—I hoped I would never have to do that—but his helplessness and anguish thrust deep inside me like that sword.

  I could not watch anymore. Straightening, I glanced at Taizi one last time before I took a step back, but I froze. Pheasant was there, standing next to him.

  “Go away, go away!” Taizi hollered. “It’s all your fault!”

  Pheasant’s shoulders slumped. He murmured something and tried to hold his brother’s shoulders, but he pushed him aside. “You’re a traitor. Traitor! I hate you. I hate you. Stay away from me!”

  Pheasant’s hands dropped, tears mapping his handsome face.

  Then he ran.

  My heart wrenched. I turned around, searching for him. His head appeared and disappeared above the crowd around me, and I shifted behind the people to keep track of him. Finally, I pushed aside the servants, eunuchs, and ladies, ignored their frowns, and ran after him.

  I found him in a garden at the back of the bedchamber, where he held a branch and slashed at the air like a madman.

  “Pheasant,” I called.

  “What?” He threw away the branch. “What are you doing here?”

  “What’s going on?” I walked closer to him.

  He sat down on a rock. “He saw me come in with Father. He thought I had betrayed him. I didn’t! I was trying to stop Father!”

  “Perhaps you can explain to him later.”

  “He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to warn him when Father came, but he didn’t hear. He’s never going to forgive me, and now…” He buried his head in his hands. “Now his favorite boy is dead. Do you think I wanted that?”

  His voice was hoarse, and his shoulders trembled. I could not stand to watch him like that.

  I put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Pheasant.”

  He buried his head in my gown. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. I could feel his frustration, his helplessness, and his sadness rise to touch me, tap my own well of grief, and make me part of him. I held him tighter. I wanted to tell him that tomorrow things would be fine and that tomorrow Taizi would forgive him. I even wanted to tell him I would like to meet him in the garden again.

  Footsteps sounded behind me. I raised my head. The Emperor’s golden regalia. I dropped my arms and shrank from Pheasant.

  It was too late.

  He lunged toward me and slapped me. The force sent me spinning. I tried to grab the stone lamp near the tree, but I slipped and crashed against something behind me. Blackness cloaked me, and for a long moment, I could not see. I heard only voices. Many voices. Men’s. Women’s. Shouts. Gasps. Groans. Arguments.

  “Father!” Pheasant’s voice was loud and desperate. “What are you doing?”

  “Vile woman. How dare she seduce you!”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I saw her with my own eyes!” the Emperor bellowed. “She put her hands on you. What a wanton woman! She deserves to die!”

  “You can’t!”

  “Don’t you dare protect her!”

  “It’s not what you think. It’s not! She didn’t seduce me. I did! I seduced her. She was unwilling. She didn’t wish to betray you.”

  “You!”

  “I am to blame. It is my fault. All m
ine! Punish me. Punish me, not her!”

  I groaned. Pain erupted in my head, but I pushed against the ground, trying to rise. A group of women stepped away from me to stand beside the Emperor. I could not see their faces. Or were they women? They wavered before me like empty gowns.

  “Guards!” The Emperor’s voice stabbed my heart. “Lash him. Twenty rods!”

  Many legs flashed before me. They lengthened and transformed into full figures, hazy but menacing, and they rushed toward Pheasant and shoved him to the ground. Their arms raised high, their rods long and thick, they struck. A thud. Followed by a heavy groan. Another thud. Then another groan.

  “Stop it, stop it,” I said.

  But the awful sound continued, echoing, drowning out my voice, and there were waves of groans—thick, lingering, and painful—stabbing my heart. Then nothing.

  “He passed out!” someone shouted.

  I jerked. There. Pheasant, lying on the ground, the back of his white robe a splash of crushed rose petals.

  “Take him to the physicians.” The Emperor’s golden robe stood before me. I shrank in fear. But I would have liked to follow Pheasant, to see him and hold his hands. I would have liked to call his name and let him know I was there. “Kneel.”

  I struggled to rise. I could not feel my hands, feet, or knees. A salty taste burst in my mouth, and something wet dripped on my hand. I did not wipe it away. The Emperor was going to punish me. He would never forgive me. Everything was over.

  “You shall never rise again.”

  He strode away. Behind him trailed a group of women. One stopped, the corner of her small mouth pulled up. I blinked a few times before I realized who she was.

  Rain.

  This time, she had succeeded. She had followed me and chosen the perfect time to expose me and Pheasant. What else could I say? I had been careless. I had forgotten what kind of court I lived in.

  Soon she left too.

  At first, I could hear the whispers of Plum and the other attendants and the gasps of the servants. But soon, all faded. I was alone.

  The sun, crawling to the middle of the heavenly dome, grasped me with its talons of brutal heat. By late afternoon, my vision blurred, and my knees felt ready to snap off my body. A harsh voice, from a eunuch who watched me, scolded me every time I slouched. Countless times, I collapsed sideways, and each time the voice berated me and forced me to keep my position.

  The moon replaced the sun, and the sun returned. Still I knelt.

  33

  “Mei, Mei!”

  Father’s voice. Faint but urgent.

  I lifted my head. And there it was, its yellow, bulbous eyes locked on me. It had a striped torso, lean and majestic, its flinty paws clawing the grass. It stared at me from near the pine branch a few paces from me.

  A tiger.

  Time slowed. For a moment I looked into its eyes, unable to speak or move. How beautiful they were, the eyes of the powerful. It looked complacent, content, and arrogant, the epitome of beauty and supremacy. It did not appear to care about me, the forest, the sky, or anything around it. It was an animal that was used to killing and knew it could do it easily. It was a king who could always have his wish, a king who could never be defied. And it wanted me.

  “Run, run now!”

  Father’s voice tore through the forest and hit my ears. I turned around.

  It was already before me, so fast I did not have time to scream. But then Father appeared, blocking me, his arms outstretched, a branch in his right hand. “Run! Now!”

  I flew in the air instead, and a storm of tree branches, leaves, rocks, and clods of dirt whipped my face. Father’s voice chased me, followed by a deafening roar that shook the mountain. And then the ground slammed against me, all the sounds vanished, and the sky darkened. When I awoke, I went home alone, unable to recall anything.

  Later, people found Father. He was caught on a pine tree on a cliff near my family’s grave site, a branch pierced through his chest. No one knew about the tiger or what happened to him, so Mother assumed that he had tripped, that it was an accident.

  But kneeling there, I saw how Father really died. And I remembered everything.

  • • •

  The sky seemed to spin, and roof tiles fell like raindrops. A piece landed in my mouth. It tasted like dirt but smelled like fresh pine resin. I looked up.

  Staring at me with yellow eyes, the tiger opened its mouth. “Caw, caw.”

  My heart leaped to my throat. It had returned. I lurched forward to grab something but could not move my feet. It strutted toward me. One step. I shivered. Two. I wanted to scream.

  Then it flapped its black wings and vanished above the tiled roof of a distant hall.

  A crow.

  Trembling, I closed my eyes.

  • • •

  “Calm down, Mei. Calm down,” a soft female voice said, and arms embraced me.

  I tried to raise my head, but it felt so heavy. “Who is there?”

  “Drink it.” A spoon touched my lips. A plump hand held my shoulder. The Noble Lady.

  “My father…my father died to protect me, he died to protect me…” I said. I knew it, deep in my heart. All these years, I could not remember, but I had always known something was there, some unanswered question. Had he not died, my family would still be happy and thriving… I was responsible for Father’s death, for what happened to my family’s fortune, for Mother’s disappearance…

  “What are you saying, Mei? Don’t talk, Mei. Don’t talk. Now, listen to me. Drink this. Slowly, yes. You’ll feel better. Look, you’re burning hot.”

  I coughed. The liquid scalded my tongue. It tasted hard and bitter, like a piece of bark I chewed once in the woods with Father. We had spent so much time there, looking at our land, talking, feeling the breeze on our faces… I shook my head and pushed the spoon away.

  “It’s rice porridge. It’s good for you. I’ll feed you. You can’t stay like this without food.” She patted my back.

  Her touch was gentle, and I lowered my head obediently and sipped. It did not taste so bad, and soon the sweet flavor of rice porridge spread in my mouth.

  “You must stay strong, Mei. You must hold yourself together. Do not give up. Hang on.” She squeezed my hand.

  Then I remembered where I was and that I was being punished. “How long have I been here, my Noble Lady?”

  My voice sounded coarse and old, like a sick, elderly woman who had not spoken for a hundred years.

  She fed me another spoonful. “Today is the second day.”

  It felt longer than that. “How is Pheasant?”

  “He is well now. The physicians applied ointment to his back and bandaged him. They also gave him medicine so he could sleep. I think he’ll recover soon.” She lowered her head to study me. “Plum wanted to come and see you, but she is not allowed. What happened there?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “I told you, Mei, to stay away from him.”

  “I’m sorry.” I had failed her. I was so close, and I had failed. Again.

  “I’m sorry too.” She put the spoon in the bowl. “You were doing so well. I wish I could do more. I pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Hopelessly, I gazed at her. Did the Emperor really want me to kneel until my last breath?

  “I’m afraid I ought to leave.” She dusted off her gown and rose.

  “But…” I reached out to stop her, then my hand dropped in midair. I could not burden her. “That’s right…my Noble Lady. You must not make him angry with you.”

  She sighed, waved to her servants, and left.

  It was only me again. I slumped, staring at the ground. My eyes burned, my lips cracked and bled, and my back became hard and brittle, ready to snap. The ground seemed to do strange things. One moment it looked like a pile of white bon
es. Then it sank into a dark pit, and then again, it raced ahead like a wicked sandstorm.

  The night would come soon. It would be the second night I had knelt. Would I ever see the morning light again?

  So it was true. I had caused Father’s death, and that was why I had to do whatever I could to fulfill his wish. And indeed, I had had my chances. It was unlikely now…

  After a while, I heard a man’s voice.

  “Up now,” he said. “He pardoned you.”

  I jolted upright. No more kneeling? “Why?”

  “Don’t know.” He stood a few paces away. It was the Captain, the man with a patch of purple birthmark covering half of his face, who always did the Emperor’s bidding.

  Waves of relief washed over me. I struggled to rise, but I was too weak. More determined, I pushed against the ground and hoisted myself up. I fell sideways. Panting, I steadied myself again and continued to struggle. But no matter how hard I tried, my knees would not straighten.

  I could not stand.

  I scratched my kneecaps. Nothing. I pinched my leg and twisted the skin hard. Nothing. I dug my fingernails into my skin. Nothing but a long, bloody trail on my leg.

  I wanted to cry. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Let me help you.” He stepped closer.

  “No.” I clenched my hands together. “May I borrow your sword?”

  “A guard never parts with his sword.”

  “Then stab me.” I pointed to my legs. “I cannot feel anything.”

  He frowned. “It’s probably bad blood.”

  “Bad blood?”

  “You’ll never walk again.”

  I glared at him. A sword man should be allowed to use only his sword, not words. Who did he think he was? Only a callous killer, that’s all he was.

  “I’ll show you.” He took his dagger from his boot, squatted before me, and struck my kneecap with the end of the hilt.

  I should have felt pain, and my leg should have responded.

  But nothing. No pain. No response.