by JC Kang
She froze in place. One of the banners above the pavilion door was emblazoned with a golden scorpion, the symbol of Madura. The ones Prince Hardeep suspected of trying to kill them last night. Heart seizing, she clutched Kai-Long’s sleeve. “How could the Foreign Ministry house the Madurans here?”
“It was my doing.”
“Yours?” Her heartbeat resumed, only to roar in her ears. If the lute still played, she couldn’t hear it through her shock.
Kai-Long squeezed her hand. “As the Founder wrote, keep your friends close, your enemies closer. In any case, their crown prince refused to come, so the pavilion is empty. Come along.” He gestured toward a banner with a twenty-one-point star.
Thoughts clearing, she listened. The lute’s melody came from inside the Ayuri Confederation’s guest pavilion. The Ayuri South had many musical instruments, though the lute belonged to the Arkothi north. What a coincidence that Meiling now carried one as well.
No, it couldn’t be just a coincidence, but rather a sign from the Heavens. Kaiya resumed her walk, stride lengthening.
The sound intensified when the bowing servants slid open the doors. Kaiya stepped over the high threshold and into a central room that vaulted two stories high. Standing along the walls, six Ayuri men in white kurta shirts with gold embroidered collars all turned and met her gaze, then pressed their hands together and bowed their heads.
A man lounged on the wool carpet in a copper-colored kurta, and a woman in an orange sari knelt beside him. Both rose and pressed their palms together. White wisps streaked through his black hair, which framed a deep brown face so dignified, he could only be Ambassador Vikram. His lighter-skinned wife looked old enough to be Kaiya’s mother, yet maintained a lustrous beauty all the same.
However, neither drew her eye more than the blindfolded man sitting cross-legged at the head of the room. Several musical instruments, both from the Ayuri South and Arkothi North, surrounded him. He paused with his hands above a lute and bowed his head.
“Good evening, Lord Peng,” Ambassador Vikram said.
Cousin Kai-Long bowed his head. “Good evening, Ambassador. Princess Kaiya, may I introduce you to Ashook Vikram and his wife Shariya.”
Pressing her palms together, Kaiya bowed her head in Ayuri fashion. “I am pleased to meet you.”
With a smile, Lady Shariya gestured to a cushion. “Please, Your Highness, sit.”
“Thank you.” After Kaiya’s adventure with Prince Hardeep, the Ayuri words came out smoothly, almost as perfect as Kai-Long’s. She brushed her skirts to her shins and knelt on the cushion, and the ambassador and his wife followed.
Head bobbling, reminiscent of Hardeep, Ambassador Vikram bowed toward Kai-Long. “Lord Peng, I cannot thank you enough for introducing us to the Blind Musician.”
Kaiya studied the lute player, who wore Hua-style robes, yet whose dark skin tone marked him as Ayuri or Levanthi. The wide blindfold covered most of his forehead and nose.
Still standing, Kai-Long grinned. “Did you test him?”
Lady Shariya placed a hand over her chest. “Yes. I felt cruel at first, but then amazed. Your Highness, you must see this. Musician, please play.”
With a bow of his head, the Blind Musician plucked out a forlorn melody on the lute: a low thrum, descending so low it might have been to the depths of hell.
Kaiya sighed. It was as if he could feel her sadness.
Removing some of their rings, both the ambassador and his wife flung the jewelry at the poor man. Kaiya covered her mouth. How could they do such a thing to a blind person?
Yet even as he played, he shifted in place, deftly avoiding each ring. The music not only remained steady, his movement seemed to shift with the ebb and flow of the notes.
Kaiya sucked in a breath. With practice, she had finally learned to hear heartbeats. That skill paled in comparison to the Blind Magician, who seemed to see with his ears.
Secretary Hong and Han Meiling also gasped. Kaiya found the imperial guards in the corner of her eyes. Even if they did not audibly express their shock, their gawking mouths betrayed rapt attention.
“This is the real reason I brought you here.” Kai-Long’s breath tickled her ear. “To meet the Blind Musician.”
Kaiya’s mind somersaulted. First Prince Hardeep, then Lord Xu, Doctor Wu, and Xiulan. In the last two days, they had all taught her abilities applicable to Dragon Songs. If she could learn the Blind Musician’s skill…but alas, there was no time. Not with an impending marriage.
“My song resonates with your heart and comes back to me. It tells me your desires.” The Blind Musician’s low-pitched voice crackled like logs in a fire. “I will teach you what I can tonight. Bring your lute.” He pointed to the instrument in Han Meiling’s hands.
Kaiya could only stare. Perhaps Hua’s Dragon Songs were not dead after all. Yet the Blind Musician’s bronze skin tone could not belong to a Hua person. She dipped her head in slow nods.
Kai-Long chuckled. “We do not have much time before your dinner, Dian-xia. Let us take our leave of the ambassador and his wife.”
Dinner…and the talk, the one that Kaiya’s mother would have given had she not died already. Yet that appointment seemed insignificant in this moment, save for the time constraints it presented.
She bowed her head. “Ambassador Vikram, it was an honor to meet you. I thank you for your hospitality. Please allow me to steal away the Blind Musician and leave you to the entertainment my father has arranged.”
Both the ambassador and his wife rose, pressed their hands together, and bowed their heads. The Blind Musician stood as well. Playing his lute in smooth plucks, he navigated around the cushions and rings and came to the door.
Was this the right thing to do? After all the rules she’d broken the day before? Kaiya glanced at the imperial guards, who showed no sign of protest. Han Meiling chewed on her lower lip, but said nothing. Kai-Long only smiled.
Pressing her palms together, Kaiya bowed to the ambassador and his wife. Her pulse raced as she turned and stepped over the ghost-tripping threshold. Behind her, the Blind Musician seemed to have no issue negotiating it, either. “Where to?” she asked.
Kai-Long pointed to the guest pavilion designated for the Madurans.
Kaiya’s pattering heart almost stopped even as her feet shuffled toward the entrance. It seemed so…wrong. Even if the Madurans weren’t there. The imperial court allowed her dear Prince Hardeep’s enemies a place of honor, while his own nation suffered. And there was nothing she could do. Not anymore. Not when her own homeland faced fragmentation. She was just as selfish as the advocates for unlimited firepowder trade.
“You’ll be fine,” Kai-Long said with a smile. “No Golden Scorpions will ambush you tonight. And you have two imperial guards to protect you.”
“What about you?”
Kai-Long looked up to the Iridescent Moon, now waxing to its first gibbous. “I have another matter to attend to, but Secretary Hong will make sure you are on time for dinner with Crown Princess Xiulan.” The last line was delivered with enough emphasis that poor old Hong cringed. Kai-Long leaned in and switched to Ayuri. “I handpicked guards who can’t speak Ayuri, and Hong will do anything you say.”
Why would that matter? Unless the Blind Musician intended to tell her something not meant for prying ears? Maybe news of Hardeep, since Kai-Long had apparently arranged this. Pulse skipping again, Kaiya stepped over the threshold and into the guesthouse. Meiling hurried ahead to unshutter the light bauble lamps. The Blind Musician and the guards followed.
Striding across the carpet faster than even someone who could see, the Blind Musician sat cross-legged at the head of the vaulted central chamber. Then he removed the blindfold.
Blue eyes danced in front of her. Prince Hardeep.
CHAPTER 30
Hot and Bothered
Secretary Hong’s breath wheezed in the background as Kaiya gawked at Prince Hardeep. The guards showed no signs of surprise; Kai-Long had probably chosen
them not only for their lack of fluency in Ayuri, but also because they had not seen Prince Hardeep the day before.
Now, his eyes danced with mirth, sending Kaiya’s mind spinning. Despite her best efforts to control them, her own lips quirked into a grin. When he spread his arms, inviting an embrace, she ran towards him as quickly as her gown would allow.
Dao rasped out of scabbards as the imperial guards closed in.
“Stand down.” Kaiya stopped midstride and held out a halting hand. She locked an imperious gaze on them. Hopefully, as long as she did not fall into his arms, they would hold back.
One of the guards bowed his head. “Dian-xia. The Tianzi commands that no man touch you until your marriage.”
Chest tightening, Kaiya offered Prince Hardeep a conciliatory smile. Even if he might not understand the Hua language, the swords and body language needed no translation. Still, to be absolutely sure, she said, “I am sorry, Prince Hardeep. For everyone’s safety, you must not touch me.”
Hands raised, Prince Hardeep looked from the imperial guards’ blades and back to her. “I will do my best to obey the order, but my style of teaching is very…hands-on. I might not survive our lesson.” A flirtatious smile formed on his lips.
Kaiya’s belly fluttered like a dragonfly’s wings. “Lesson? Do you really know how to see with your ears?”
He shook his head. “If such a skill existed, it would have belonged to your people’s great musicians.”
“Then how did you avoid the rings?”
“Paladin skills. I felt their trajectories.”
Kaiya’s heart sank into her belly. No matter how wonderful it was to see Hardeep, there was no new skill to be learned. “Why the ruse with the Ayuri Confederation ambassador?”
His lips formed a tight line. “I didn’t want them to recognize me. I have no love for them. In Ankira’s time of need, the Confederation’s Paladin protectors claimed to be too busy containing the ravages of the great Avarax.” The awe in the prince’s voice when he named the dragon could only come from deep-rooted fear. “Speaking of which, I was serious about the lute. You should learn, so that when the time comes, you can play the Dragon Scale Lute.”
“Do you have it?” Not that she ever wanted to play it again.
“One of our pursuers took it while I fought the others.”
She sighed. “There won’t be a chance for me to help you, anyway. I am betrothed. I will marry Lord Tong in a few weeks.”
“Lord Tong?” Hardeep cocked his head. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t know what fate holds for us, only that it has brought us together.”
Fate. The closest word in Hua, yuan, suggested that mountains and deserts and oceans could not stand between those fated to be together, while those without yuan could pass each other every day and never meet.
“Let us begin.” As he approached, one slow step in front of another, his blue eyes seemed to look straight into her soul.
Kaiya’s breath hitched. Every muscle froze in place, like a doe facing a hunter’s arrow.
He stopped as the imperial guards strode forward with hands on their swords. “Sit.” He motioned to the floor beyond.
“On the floor?” Her voice came out as a squeak.
He nodded. “Have you seen a painting of the Goddess Saraswati?”
She’d seen so many paintings of the many Ayuri gods: Surya, Lord of the Sun, riding his flaming chariot drawn by white horses. Beautiful Shakti, Goddess of Fertility, holding auspicious symbols in her many hands. Black-skinned Yama, dragging sinners down to Hell. And of course, Saraswati, sitting cross-legged with an Ayuri-style lute cradled in her arms.
The pose might be appropriate for an Ayuri goddess, but a Hua woman of noble standing would never sit with her legs so...open. The constricting inner dress might not even allow it. Her blush must’ve now been illuminating the room better than the light baubles.
He smiled again, this time less flirtatious, more understanding. “Correct posture is important for everything in life.”
Just like Doctor Wu had said. Kaiya glanced at the imperial guards, and then, with a deep breath, held the folds of her outer gown together while hitching up her inner dress. With the amount of heat her face put off, she might be able to warm the entire palace on this chilly evening. She met Hardeep’s gaze again.
He gave her a perfunctory nod.
Reassured, she settled into a cross-legged seat on the floor. She arranged the outer gown, as much for modesty as to conceal her stick legs and enormous feet. No telling what the guards and handmaiden were thinking at this moment. Better not to even look in their direction. She kept her eyes focused on the prince as Han Meiling presented the lute, the one he’d given her through Kai-Long yesterday.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Mundane conversation. It was good. It would keep her mind off the unladylike pose. Maybe.
“I would have rather given you a lute that has been in my family for decades. Unfortunately, I had to borrow this one from the refugees.”
Kaiya ran a hand over the wood. The varnish had faded in some places, and several scuffs scarred its belly. She shook her head. “You gave this one with the best of intentions. I will treasure it for that alone.” Even if she might never be allowed to play it in her new husband’s home.
He pressed his hands together. “You are too kind. Now—”
Secretary Hong cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Excellency, why did you abandon the princess at the Temple of Heaven?”
Prince Hardeep shook his head. “I had to draw away the assassins who wanted to harm us.”
So that’s why he had abandoned her. No, not abandoned her, but protected her. Again.
“Now, Princess,” he said, “straighten your back, let your shoulders relax. Rest the resonator on the floor.”
She looked at the foreign instrument in her hands. He had not been nearly as meticulous at the Temple of Heaven two nights before.
“In the Ayuri South, just as a warrior must become one with his weapon, we believe the performer must become one with her instrument.”
Kaiya nodded. Her teachers had said pretty much the same thing.
“Cradle it as if it were your own baby.”
She nearly dropped the lute. As if she had ever held a baby before; and to think she might very well be cradling her own in less than a year. Truth be told, the bawling babies brought to court by the great hereditary lords provided plenty of disincentive in that regard. Even when they had grown a little older, the snot-nosed brats lacked manners.
Hardeep cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him. He wore an amused smile. “Your arms are too rigid, and if that is holding a baby… you are choking its neck. Relax.”
He drew in behind her. His body heat radiated into her back as he adjusted the instrument’s position. She closed her eyes and listened for his heartbeat. Slow, powerful, like a spring-fed river sloshing against a dam. Fireworks burst in multiple explosions all through her core. So much for relaxation. It would be easier holding the low horse stance under Doctor Wu’s glare than to concentrate with him so close.
Around her, the imperial guards’ tension wound tighter than a dwarven coil. Hands gripped sword hilts. His head craned over her shoulder, his chin just a hair’s breadth away from her neck. “Here,” he said, breath warm on her ear. His hand covered hers as he loosened her fingers around the lute’s neck. The jolt from her hand went up her arm and into her heart. It might have skipped a beat or three.
Blades swept out as the imperial guards closed in as fast as a viper strike.
Prince Hardeep jumped back, hands in the air. “I am sorry.”
“He was just helping me hold the lute correctly.” Kaiya waved the guards off.
They froze in aggressive stances, a sword’s distance away from the prince. A low growl emitted from deep in one of their throats.
Secretary Hong’s voice wobbled, whether from nervousness or his halting Ayuri or a combination of both. “Your E
xcellency, you may instruct, but do not touch.”
Prince Hardeep pressed his palms together. “I apologize. I will do my best, but I must say that it is very hard to teach if I cannot help the princess feel the instrument.”
Yes, feel the instrument… Kaiya banished thoughts of Hardeep caressing her like his lute.
“You will have to make do.” The rigid line of Secretary Hong’s lips, along with the lack of apology in his tone, left no doubt as to what he really thought.
The residual heat from Prince Hardeep’s closeness clung to her back, tingling and percolating through her with the same slow, resolute pulsation. Maybe distance was for the better. If the prince remained so close, there would be no way she could concentrate on learning how to play.
The next hour dragged on like sweet torture. Hardeep would come tantalizingly close, making her pulse race and palms sweat. It took all her effort to keep her fingers from slipping on the lute’s neck. Never before had she felt such a connection with a man, and to have him so close. Oh, for him envelop her in those strong arms, to brush his lips across her neck! A primal heat erupted deep inside her, making her squirm.
Each time he got too close, the imperial guards reacted within a split second, assuming offensive stances. He would ultimately raise his hands and back away with a bow. The constant tease left every one of her nerves on edge. It was nothing short of a miracle she learned anything.
If her nerves were on edge, the guards’ must be even more so. Instead of the near-motionlessness and stoic expressions, their fierce scowls could have rivaled the dragon etched into each of their breastplates. Poor old Secretary Hong hunched over, and Meiling shuffled on her feet.
Still, in the short time, she managed to learn a few simple folk songs, as well as parts of a far more complicated piece. When he played it himself, the complex chords, rapid changes in pitch, and extreme key ranges left her head spinning.
Limbs languid, her bony bottom aching from sitting for so long, and her entire body still hot with desire, she looked up at him. “Your Excellency, it is almost time for me to go.”