by JC Kang
At least not in the last twenty hours. Still, appearances had to be maintained. She nodded with her best approximation of enthusiasm.
Peris yawned. “Be sure she doesn’t steal anything.”
Prince Aryn fixed him with a severe gaze, and Peris returned to staring at his own feet.
The carriage slowed to a stop near the palace’s front gates. Up ahead, an open carriage bore the bodies of Tai-Ming Lord Peng and his son, draped in black war banners emblazoned with Nanling Province’s red wolf. Imperial officials reverently transferred them to biers, and an honor guard of imperial soldiers came out to escort them into the palace.
Prince Aryn blew out a sigh. “The assassin shot from our ship. I feel as if we bear responsibility for the lord’s death. I am still trying to figure out how he got past our guards and boarded.”
Jie had a good idea: with Moquan skills. The boy had been large and skilled, like the men who slaughtered the Ankirans the night before. Perhaps Peng Kai-Long’s suspicions about the Madurans were well-founded. At war with Ankira, perhaps they’d tracked Prince Hardeep and stumbled on the refugees. The Peng family helped Ankira, making Lord Peng a target.
Still, Lord Tong couldn’t be ruled out, and perhaps Serikoth’s suspicious actions hinted at collusion. Jie found herself sucking on her lower lip.
“Come on, Miss Jyeh,” Prince Aryn said.
She turned to find the carriage door already open, and the prince extending his hand to help her. Peris frowned.
Ignoring his glare, Jie accepted the help. With her other hand on the annoying skirts, she jumped down. Their official guide—a secretary from the Ministry of Appointments—took the lead, and six Tarkothi marines fell in behind them. They passed over the arching bridge. Imperial guards lined the sides, their dao drawn and held in salute. At the gatehouse, imperial officials bowed. Black Lotus brothers snickered at her from the shadows.
“Prince Aryn of Tarkoth,” announced the Minister of Appointments.
Their guide took them to the central plaza, now being prepared for the wedding ceremony. He pointed out the buildings in better Arkothi than Jie could muster. Around them, other parties of foreign dignitaries looked around, mouths agape.
They arrived in the tree-lined Nine Courtyard on the east side of the palace, named for its nine guest pavilions. A veranda wrapped around the tree-filled yard, connecting three buildings on each side. Light illuminated their paper windows.
Jie took note of the imperial guards on either side of each door, as well as the half-banners hanging above. Several countries were represented. The Foreign Ministry apparently had the good sense of placing rivals Serikoth and Tarkoth as far away from each other as possible, though Madura’s gold scorpion banner hung just two buildings down from the twenty-one-pointed sun of the Ayuri Confederation. Curiously, one banner depicted the red star of Tivar, symbol of the turquoise-skinned Tivari who had enslaved humankind until their loss in the War of Ancient Gods.
The guide bowed low and held a hand toward the door. It opened into a central room with an Ayuri wool rug and bloodwood furniture. Several sliding doors stood open to bedchambers. “Please make yourself comfortable, Prince Aryn,” the guide said. “We shall bring you dinner soon. Afterwards, the Tianzi has arranged for Night Blossoms of the Floating World to entertain you.”
The Eldaeri’s blank expressions betrayed their obliviousness. Jie tiptoed and whispered into Prince Aryn’s ear. “Ladies of the night.”
A slight grin formed on the prince’s face, and he leaned over and whispered to Peris, whose eyes rounded before he frowned.
The guide bowed again. “If you have any other needs, please let me know.”
Prince Aryn plopped onto a plush cushion at the head of the central table. Stretching his legs out, he gestured at his entourage to relax. He patted the cushion next to him, inviting Jie to sit. She knelt and dutifully poured some rice wine. The sooner he passed out in a drunken haze, the sooner she could investigate the Madurans to see if they were involved in Lord Peng’s murder.
Little did she expect him to pour her wine and insist she drink. It burned her throat and warmed her to the core.
Maids delivered a feast of roasted meats, quick-fried vegetables, and cold noodles, as well as Arkothi-style forks, knives, and spoons instead of chopsticks. Though the prince might be too dignified, his marines wouldn’t be above pilfering silver cutlery. Sitting cross-legged around the table, the men attacked the food as only men could, with plenty of noise and mess.
“I bet you never ate so well,” Prince Aryn said. Gazing at her through heavy lids, he rested a calloused hand on her thigh. So much for his charm. Perhaps his interest had little to do with her ability to translate. Never mind that by human standards, she didn’t look much older than twelve.
She brushed his hand away. “Your Highness, I’m sure you’ll find your dessert much more filling.”
Pouting, he held out his cup. “I doubt dessert will taste as sweet.”
“Then you have never seen a Night Blossom.” She filled his cup to the brim.
He drained it with a single gulp and pointed at a mirror on the desk. “Look at yourself. Once you washed your face and put on a pretty dress, you took on a beauty no human could hope to emulate.”
Even in that dress, Tian had laughed at her. Jie brushed her hair behind her tapered ear. Though the way the prince now gazed at her, perhaps the problem wasn’t her immature body as much as Tian’s cluelessness. That, despite his uncanny ability to make connections.
She studied Prince Aryn’s face. Tian might be handsome, but he couldn’t compare to the prince’s fine features. And charisma…well, Prince Aryn had more in his pinkie than Tian could accumulate in two lifetimes.
Jie leaned into the prince and placed his hand on the small of her back. She tilted her head and closed her eyes, inviting his lips to take hers. Why not? In her twenty-eight years, she’d never given herself to a man for her own pleasure, always in the line of duty.
His other hand nestled her nape, and he brought his mouth to hers. He tasted of rice wine and need, and she parted her lips, welcoming him in. Her insides fluttered with either nerves or alcohol, and heat flared in her, from desire and maybe a little too much wine. Ignoring the marines’ whoops and hoots, and Peris’ frown, she swung a leg over and straddled him. His hardness pressed against her.
The doors slid open. In the corner of her eye, Jie saw two gorgeous Night Blossoms in provocative silk robes. Their maid carried several folded blankets in her arms. That maid! Feng Mi, a Black Lotus initiate.
One of the Night Blossoms covered her giggle. “It looks like the prince has little need of our services.”
Jie’s cheeks burned. Had Prince Aryn understood? Yes or no, his attention never left her. The Night Blossoms might as well have not been there for all the attention he paid her.
Feng Mi flashed subtle Moquan hand signals. Master needs you. Castle. Half hour.
Half an hour! The walk to the castle would take half that time, which left barely any time to enjoy Prince Aryn, or spy on the Madurans. Sighing, Jie pushed back. “Your Highness, your entertainment has arrived.”
Only then did his eyes stray to the Night Blossoms before returning to her. His voice was breathy in her ear. “I want you.”
The feeling was mutual, but she shook her head. “I mustn’t interfere with the emperor’s arrangements.” A half-truth.
His shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he seemed more a man than a prince. “Understood. Well, get some rest. If it pleases you, you shall sit next to me at the wedding tomorrow.”
Peris let out a sigh that could only be relief. The man either had a stodgy adherence to appearances, or adoration for the prince that went beyond that of a devoted retainer.
Jie stood and curtseyed. “You honor me, Your Highness. I’m going to stroll around the courtyard and clear my head.” And eavesdrop on the Madurans. She looked back at the prince, whose attention never left her. She turned around to find a
bundle of black cloth in her hands.
Feng Mi winked.
Her utility suit. Jie tapped a code on the girl’s arm as she passed. I watch Madurans.
Outside, the cool spring air filled her lungs and helped unscramble Jie’s head. Heavens, to think she’d almost slept with a prince. Though it could’ve been explained off as duty; yet another half-truth in a life full of half-truths.
Striding down the veranda as quickly as her dress would allow, she headed toward the Madurans’ villa. She paused midstride as three altivorcs emerged from their guesthouse. The Maduran’s invitation to an imperial wedding made sense, but the Tivari…it wasn’t as if Hua had trade routes with their subterranean cities, nor a need for their only product: mercenaries. Shorter, stockier than humans, their booted feet clopped on the wood terrace like horse hooves. Though the centermost altivorc might have been as beautiful as an elf, with coifed black hair and a black surcoat, his two guards were prototypically hideous.
One froze in place, grabbed the leader, and pointed at her. Three sets of Tivari eyes met hers and they broke into an animated series of grunts that vaguely resembled a language. While the leader and the right guard headed into the Maduran pavilion, the third came lumbering in her direction.
Not to share a recipe for post-dinner sweets, from the snarl on his face. Unless the main ingredient was half-elf ears and tongues. Jie ducked into an alley between pavilions, clenched her utility suit between her teeth, and then spider-climbed her way up. The dress got in her way, undoubtedly making her stand out like a prince among Moquan. Now where did that thought come from?
Before she reached the top, the altivorc turned the corner.
And rumbled through, without looking up. Predictable, like humans. Once he went around back of the pavilions, Jie continued to the roof. Keeping close to the steeply pitched tiles, she shrugged out of the dress and into her stealth suit.
Now properly dressed for the tasks at hand, Jie worked her way along the rooftops, jumping from pavilion to pavilion until she came to the Madurans’. She peeked into a second-floor window, and finding the room unoccupied, slipped in.
Angry voices argued in the central room. Jie crept across the sleeping chambers and slid the door open a crack. Light shone from below, leaving the mezzanine shrouded in shadow. She eased the door open wide enough to squeeze out and then parked herself near the guardrail.
Down in the central room, the third altivorc had joined the others. The handsome leader crossed his arms, addressing someone out of her line of sight. He spoke in heavily accented Ayuri. “You kept me waiting, just to tell me Prince Dhananad didn’t accept his invitation?”
Dhananad…that name… Jie scrunched her forehead, trying to remember why it sounded so familiar.
The unseen Maduran, a male, answered, “Prince Dhananad does not have fond memories of the Cathayi. He sent me in his stead.”
The altivorc rumbled off a soliloquy of garbled sounds, with Dhananad the only intelligible word. The raw anger in the tone suggested nothing flattering, though it could have been Tivari romantic poetry for all Jie knew.
However, Dhananad’s dislike of Hua sparked a memory. Twenty-eight years before, a young Prince Dhananad had been a collateral target of a Moquan operation—carried out by the famed Architect, Surgeon, and Beauty—to retrieve a secret artifact. The ill-fated mission had led to the deaths of those three, and Master Yan had used the Tiger’s Eye technique to block the memories of all clan members, ensuring that only he knew their real names or the nature of the artifact.
Below, the altivorc switched back to Ayuri. “Do you have authority to finalize our agreement? Or must we tell Lord Tong and the Teleri we failed to broker a deal because Madura’s leadership has been inept for the last three decades?”
Jie’s head spun. The faraway Teleri Empire was busy gobbling up Arkothi city-states in Tivaralan’s northeast. Their next target was likely to be Serikoth. However, an alliance with Lord Tong would allow them a way through the Wall in the North.
The man yawned. “You assign too much blame to the departed Grand Vizier.”
The altivorc scoffed. “He kept the royal family stupid for a century, leaving them ill-prepared for life after his departure. Now, will you take part in the attack?”
“You will know when I have decided.”
Jie pictured a map in her head. In order for Madura to even consider invading the Hua’s South through the Wall, they’d need to divert considerable resources from the siege of Ankiras and the occupation of Ankira.
Unless the attack referred to something else. A target of opportunity. A soft target. Like the imperial wedding, where Lord Tong and his allies could wipe out any number of hereditary lords. Did they have the numbers and weapons to do it?
Jie snuck back into the room and took a deep breath. Master Yan needed to hear this, and the Madurans and altivorcs needed to be watched.
CHAPTER 29
Ulterior Motives
The silence in the Hall of Supreme Harmony allowed Kaiya to hear the collective breaths and heartbeats of the assembled lords and ministers. None breathed more rapidly than she, and her pulse pattered faster than anyone else’s.
After all, none of those men would be marrying a traitorous lord in the coming weeks. Perhaps days. And she’d consigned herself to this fate. Hopefully, Lord Tong was not like other Northerners in their dislike of the arts.
Father gave the slightest of nods, and all the men pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Chief Minister Tan cleared his throat. “Distinguished lords, you may retire.”
Around her, the lords stood, many of them discussing the implications of her impending marriage. Several approached and bowed their heads, offering their congratulations.
As she rose, she looked to Father. Cousin Kai-Long—Lord Peng—stood before him, whispering, his voice too low for even her keen ears to pick out from the surrounding conversations. He turned toward her, and Father’s gaze followed. Father nodded.
They were discussing her. Kai-Long opposed her wedding; maybe it had to do with that. She’d know soon enough, with the way Cousin Kai-Long approached her wearing a broad grin. He bowed his head. “Congratulations, Dian-xia.”
“Thank you, Lord Peng.”
He started to laugh, a breach of protocol in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, but contorted his face into a smile. “Come with me. I would like to introduce you to the wife of Ambassador Vikram of the Ayuri Confederation. She is in the guest pavilions. The Tianzi has already approved.”
Why bother with extending pleasantries, when now she was nothing more than a bride-to-be? She looked to the Jade Throne. Father, now barely sitting straight, nodded.
Cousin Kai-Long gestured toward Secretary Hong, who hovered nearby. “Go find the princess’ handmaiden Meiling, and have her meet us in the central plaza with the princess’ lute.”
Prince Hardeep’s lute, not hers. It was a cruel reminder of how much she was sacrificing. Her belly felt hollow. But why would an ambassador’s wife care about a foreign instrument Kaiya couldn’t even play?
Secretary Hong wetted his lips. “I am supposed to—”
“Hurry.” Kai-Long leaned his head toward the doors. “I will take responsibility for the princess until you return.”
The hapless secretary bowed his head. “As you command, Young Lord… I mean, Jue-ye.”
Kai-Long beckoned two imperial guards, ones she recognized but who were never assigned to her. “Come.”
They had started out of the hall when Appointments Minister Hu ventured into her path. His eyes narrowed like a snake. Perhaps he still bore resentment for her contradicting him the day before. “The princess has a dinner with the Crown Princess in two hours.”
Kaiya suppressed a shudder. This sudden dinner, on the eve of her wedding announcement, could only mean one thing. That discussion. It was typically a mother’s responsibility to discuss the arrival of Heaven’s Dew with a daughter who was soon to blossom, but Mother’s passing mea
nt that duty had fallen to the elder sister-in-law.
Undoubtedly, a pillow book would be involved. Her younger friend Lin Ziqiu had already shown her the collection of graphic woodblock prints before, and it had made her blush hotter and brighter than Tivar’s star during the Year of the Second Sun. Soon, Kaiya would be acting out those pictures, with a lord she’d only recently heard of. Now instead of blushing, her insides squeezed into a painful knot.
Cousin Kai-Long stepped forward, at an angle which interposed himself between her and Minister Hu like an imperial guard would do. “The Tianzi has approved Princess Kaiya’s meeting. Two hours is more than enough time.”
Eyes shifting from Father to her to Kai-Long, Minister Hu smiled with about as much warmth as a burnt-out hearth at midwinter. He spun on his heel and went fawning over to another Tai-Ming Lord.
Cousin Kai-Long grinned. “I think I could get used to this new position.”
Kaiya would have at least faked a laugh if not for the reality of her situation. She was getting married to a stern man who might not even let her play music. She would never see Hardeep again. Not only that, it had been her own choice. Her lips tightened into a straight line. Thankfully, Cousin Kai-Long spared her embarrassment by turning around and leading her out of the hall.
Secretary Hong and Han Meiling met them on the far end of the central plaza, the handmaiden bowing with the lute in her hands, then joining the retinue two steps behind. Kaiya’s belly writhed, like the twists and turns they took through the alleys between buildings. Somewhere up ahead, musical notes danced on the winds, plucked from…a lute?
The sound grew louder, taunting her as a reminder of what she would be losing. They rounded a corner into the Nine Courtyard. Carefully manicured by imperial gardeners, the open space featured a central pond bordered by soon-to-blossom flowers. Plum trees already bloomed, their white and pink petals drifting on a light breeze like snow. It might have been a metaphor for her own impending blossoming and deflowering.