by JC Kang
Thankfully, after a few more steps, the corridor opened into a large chamber. Kaiya took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her brow.
The injured lay on blankets while healers tended to their wounds. One of the boys screamed as they pulled an arrow out of him. Kaiya’s chest ached at the pitiful moans. Still, she knelt by Su and held his hand.
Someone grabbed her shoulder in a heavy grip and spun her around. A larger boy from the regiment glared at her. “If I’m going to die, I’m not going to die a virgin.”
Kaiya’s mind blanked.
Several other hands seized the boy and pulled him back as he struggled.
“You ingrate,” said another one of the boys. “She saved our lives.”
A spear butt crashed into the offender’s head, sending him to the ground. One of the enemies raised the spear again. “Stay quiet. Nobody touch her until we learn her identity. If she’s no one important, you can have her. After we’re done, that is.”
Kaiya clenched and unclenched her sweaty hands. Surely, someone would be able to identify her. Some of the boys, led by Su’s friend, formed up around her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We won’t let them do anything to you.”
The reassurance wasn’t enough to slow Kaiya’s thumping heart, though the sentiment was kind enough. If she were in a position of real importance, beyond just a political tool, she’d reward him and the others who defended her.
For now, though, she’d have to wait. If her captors had bothered to tell Lord Tong, the decoy might fare worse than she.
Tian hadn’t ridden a horse since childhood, and would never tease Jie again about how she looked after riding. Not the way his buttocks felt. Unable to enter the capital because of his banishment, he’d stolen an imperial stallion and followed the old dirt road along the Jade River at a trot. When his mount tired, he swapped it out for a farmer’s draft horse who was none too keen about being ridden.
Eventually, he’d broken into an estate, appropriated a lady’s riding horse, and made his way to Honggang. However, the beast refused to cross the river, so Tian had to leave it behind and swim himself.
The river town had been particularly busy at night, and he found out Princess Kaiya’s wedding procession, thankfully minus Princess Kaiya, had passed through hours before. He’d followed, jogging uphill, sneaking through the town of Chengfu, and finally scaling the Great Wall with cat claws and coming down on the other side by dawn.
Now he was bent over, hands on his knees, heaving for breath, on a bluff overlooking Wailian Castle. Along the outskirts of the town, four thousand twenty-three enemy soldiers formed up in lines. The imperial procession of a thousand and seven crowded the highway through the town, all the way up to the bridge. From their vantage point, they had no way of knowing that an army just under four times their size was ready to envelop them.
The castle gates opened and soldiers flying green flags emerged. At the head of the imperial procession, the leader dismounted from his white stallion, his body language looking familiar. Eight porters lowered the palanquin. Jie was supposedly inside, unaware a new rival Moquan clan was defending the castle.
He had to warn them, even if it meant fighting through both the enemy and an imperial procession that had no idea who he was. He thought back to the poor horse he’d left behind, the one he’d promised himself to track down and return if he survived.
Survival didn’t seem likely. Not without a plan, not without knowledge of the castle’s layout or defenses. Certainly not with enemy Moquan agents who knew Black Lotus tactics.
If Jie had known how relaxing a palanquin ride was, she’d have signed up to be a princess sooner. The fast pace and mild bouncing had rocked her to into a deep slumber, the most relaxing sleep she’d enjoyed in quite a while.
Now, though, someone rapped on the palanquin’s sliding window, jarring her awake. “Dian-xia.” Chen Xin used the honorific, even though the real princess’ five imperial guards had probably guessed she was a decoy. “We have arrived.”
Jie propped herself up and opened the window. Indeed, Chen Xin’s mug blocked her view. She gestured him out of the way and leaned close to get a better view.
Cannons pointed from Wailian Castle’s battlements, trained on this very spot before a bridge. In all likelihood, a bombardment would exact heavy causalities on troops waiting to cross through the bottleneck.
She turned to Chen Xin and used the Mockingbird’s Deception to imitate the princess’ voice. “What is the status of General Lu’s armies?”
His eyes rounded for a split second before he shook his head. “They are on the other side of the castle, held in place by an army from Rotuvi camped near our fortifications. General Lu is sending reserves, but the best they can do is attack the castle’s rear, up the cliffs.”
Jie sucked on her lower lip, but switched to the princess’ hair twirling. Without General Lu’s armies in support, this battle hinged entirely on her getting close to Lord Tong and forcing him to surrender. The window glided shut from the outside.
“I think it is the real princess,” Chen Xin whispered, incredulous. “It was her voice.”
“It was that magic marble.” The roll of Zhao Yue’s eyes carried in his tone.
“Jie, then?” Li Wei said.
Apparently, not everyone was apprised of the plan, though the imperial guards were smart enough to figure it out. Or maybe that was giving them too much credit. They were, after all, swordsmen and not alchemists.
She took stock of her weapons. In addition to several sharp hairpins, a garrote wound into her hair and pressed the magic bauble to her scalp. A knife was hidden in her sleeve; a vial of male-targeted toxin in her sash. And under the cushion, she’d stashed a Moquan sword and several biao, in the unlikely event they allowed the palanquin into the castle.
Outside, someone in robes approached and dropped to a knee. When he spoke, it sounded like cloth dragging across a washboard. “Lord Peng, greetings. I am Steward Qiu. We are honored to receive Princess Kaiya to Wailian Castle. Will she alight and come in?”
Sliding the window open, Jie cleared her throat and copied the princess’ voice. “It is not for the common folk to lay eyes on the princess.”
The open window provided the view of a middle-aged man with a porcine nose in green robes. His irises shifted back and forth, and his voice cracked like dried mud. “Very well. Lord Tong would be honored. Allow me to receive the swords of Lord Peng and the imperial guard for safekeeping.”
Safekeeping, indeed. She put a hand out of the window and beckoned Pig Nose Qiu. “The laws of the empire require an imperial princess be protected by five imperial guards at all times.” Pig Nose might not know for sure, but it would keep the princess’ personal guards happy.
Qiu chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking more like a cow than a pig. “Even still, courtesy demands I protect their swords for them.”
Lord Peng’s voice cut through the debate. “Very well, five guards, as well as me and my aide. You may protect our weapons.”
Aide? Jie contorted to see whom Lord Peng indicated, but Pig Nose Qiu’s flat, round face blocked her view. “And my handmaiden,” she added. Feng Mi, while young, could easily handle a few men as long as they didn’t fight like Moquan.
“Men,” Lord Peng said, his voice carrying back to the soldiers. “I leave you in the capable hands of General Feng until I send word.”
“Yes, Dajiang!” the men shouted in unison.
The palanquin lifted and started forward onto the bridge. Jie closed her eyes and listened for the number of distinct footsteps. Lord Peng, his inordinately heavy aide, the five imperial guards, Feng Mi, Pig Nose, and two enemy soldiers.
And hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers in the castle itself. Maybe, just maybe they could take the gatehouse with the eight of them, or sixteen if the palanquin bearers were of any use. But then the rest of their procession would have to charge across the narrow bridge under a hail of arrows, musket fire, and ca
nnon balls.
Hopefully, Lord Peng would have enough sense not to try. No, the fate of this mission rested on her ability to neutralize Lord Tong himself. As the Founder said, cut off the head, and surely, the demon would die.
The sunlight dimmed as they passed into the gatehouse.
Doors slammed shut in the front and back. All went dark, so dark even Jie’s elven vision did not take over. Lord Peng cursed, while daggers rasped from sheathes. Hidden among the commotion, several men with large lung capacities high in the rafters whispered in barely intelligible Arkothi. One word stood out though.
Moquan.
Jie reached for her sword.
Glass shattered inside of the palanquin and outside. A musky scent percolated in the tight confines. Deer antler velvet, used in Black Lotus toxins to target females. Jie covered her nose.
Still, too late. With that one whiff, her head would begin to spin any second now.
The shouts of men, echoing so loudly just seconds before, subsided.
All went black.
CHAPTER 36
Unmistaken Identities
Jie’s head and shoulders ached as slippered feet brushing across wood floors nudged her out of sleep.
That muted musk smell lingered on her…someone must have used a Moquan contact toxin, and of course, it would blot out some of her memories. What had she been doing? Right, going to Wailian Castle to capture Lord Tong. They’d been ambushed, but beyond that…
Feigning unconsciousness, she took stock of her situation. A rope made from smooth fibers bound her wrists above her head. She was completely naked, her hair askew. Her captors must’ve suspended her from something above, but in their foolishness, they let her toes touch the hardwood floors. A fountain rustled somewhere behind her; she would have never heard the footsteps over the gurgling water if they hadn’t been so close.
She opened one eye a fraction. Torture devices of all types lay neatly arranged on a bloodwood table in front of her. Chains and ropes hung from the ceiling. A sturdy blockwood saltire cross with manacles rested against a wall in front of her. Whoever her captors were, they’d soon learn that no amount of pain would get her to reveal sensitive information.
Wait. She studied the table. The flaying blade and hot poker made sense, but since when did torturers use feathered whips and paddles? This was no torture chamber. It was some deviant’s playroom. What Feng Mi had said about Lord Tong’s Floating World habits left little doubt as to the identity of said deviant.
How had she gotten here? She searched her scrambled memory. They’d crossed the bridge, entered the gatehouse, and then…
Nothing. Curses! Whatever had happened, they must have failed. And now…
A whip cracked into her back, sending a wave of pain through her. She bit her lip and tensed up. The sick turtle egg wouldn’t hear her scream—wait, she was supposed to be Princess Kaiya. She faked a whimper. Maybe it wasn’t entirely fake.
A man came around to her front, whip slapping in his palm. Black hair streaked with white framed a mask that covered his entire face. A paunch poked out from his green robes. “Welcome to Wailian Castle, Princess Kaiya. Since this is how you will spend most of your time here, I felt you should get acquainted with your matrimonial duties.”
Blinking away sham tears, Jie looked up at him. At least for now, he believed the ruse. “As you command, Lord Tong.”
“Good girl. Now tell me, why did the Tianzi send a bride with an escort of a thousand men? If I didn’t know any better, I would think my father-in-law-to-be planned to attack.”
“Please, My Lord, we aren’t married yet. Please cover me.” She teetered back, exposing only her side. Baiting him. Once he came close…
“Answer me first.” He drew the whip across her belly.
Yelping at the searing pain, she shook her head. “I don’t know much of military matters, Jue-ye, but my father said I would need protection as I travelled through Fengshan Province.” Tell him what he wanted to hear, address him with a title reserved for Tai-Ming, and maybe he’d believe the Tianzi had incorporated the new province and promoted Tong. If he let his guard down, he might come within leg’s reach. Her muscles tensed, not from the pain, but in anticipation.
“And why did we find so many weapons on you and in your palanquin?” He stepped forward and ran a finger up the inside of her thigh.
Grabbing the rope, Jie jumped and pulled herself skyward, then twisted behind Lord Tong. She wrapped her right leg around his neck and hooked the left knee around her right ankle. Arching back, she took advantage of the new slack in the rope and pushed his head forward in the modified leg choke. He clawed at her shins, gasping for air.
Four, three, two, one. He went limp. When he crumpled to the ground, Jie lowered herself, feet firmly on his unconscious form. Reaching with a leg, she seized a flaying blade between her toes. Thank the Heavens—or rather, Moquan training—for flexibility.
A rope dart zipped in from behind her. It wrapped around her ankle and yanked the blade loose before she could cut through her bindings. She contorted to find a large Hua boy holding the other end of the line.
Behind her, clapping carried over the fountain’s bubbling. “Very good,” said a gravelly voice…
That voice, where had she heard it before? The palanquin stopping in front of the bridge and Pig Nose Qiu flashed in her memory. She twisted again to see the man from the bridge with the round, flat face. “The real Lord Tong, I presume?”
He grinned and nodded with a haughty bow. “Not Princess Kaiya, I presume?” He gestured to the unconscious man. “I was not about to risk myself, not when my informants told me about a decoy.”
So he knew about the decoy. And he had an informant. Still, maybe the pretense might work. Chin down, she shook her head.
“Don’t insult my intelligence. Look.” In his hand, the magic bauble dangled from her garrote. “I wouldn’t imagine Princess Kaiya to have so many scars. Really, it looks like you belong in this room, and you are much more exotic than any girl I have ever seen.”
To be appreciated by a handsome Tarkothi prince was one thing; a hideous traitor another. She sucked on her lower lip.
“Kill her, Your Lordship,” said the boy in heavily accented Hua. “She is too dangerous to leave alive.”
Lord Tong waved him off. “I will hold my own counsel on this, Bovyan.”
Bovyan? The brutish ruling race of the Teleri Empire? He looked too small, and his features were undeniably Hua. The Bovyan race, the cursed descendants of the Arkothi Sun God’s mortal son, usually grew even larger, easily a head above the average human male, with fair skin. Tong must be mistaken.
“So, let me guess the Tianzi’s plan.” Lord Tong steeped his hands beneath his chin. “After I refused to go to Huajing, he sent you here to kill me. He’d then send his armies into this castle. No, you don’t have to answer.”
Jie sucked on her lower lip. What could she say? At each turn, Lord Tong was a step ahead of the Tianzi’s plans.
He twirled the magic bauble on the cord. “Thanks to this, I know the girl we captured earlier really is Princess Kaiya.”
It couldn’t be true. She’d last seen Princess Kaiya in the Hall of Pure Melody, while learning to imitate her voice. Far away, in Sun-Moon Palace. “You lie.”
“Not as much as you. She’s not as pretty as this makes her look. I’m quite disappointed.”
So it was true. Jie hung her head. In everything, she had failed. She’d almost be happy for Tian to see her failure, if that meant being able to see him again.
He gestured to the Bovyan. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure nothing is in reach.” He pointed to the wood cross. “I want her to have a good view of the real princess when I take her, brand her, and send her back to her father.”
Cradling Su’s head in her lap, Kaiya hummed a lullaby while trying to ignore his labored, dying breaths. Time dragged between each shorter inhalation. Tears welled in her eyes. She should have never come with the wedding proces
sion, should have just stayed in the safe confines of Sun-Moon Palace. Dear Kai-Wu would be getting married tonight, and she’d miss it.
And for what? She was stuck in an old mine, with at least one boy who wanted to take her virginity, and apparently no chance of singing Lord Tong into surrender. How foolish she’d been, to think she would ever be more than a political tool.
She reached down and clasped Su’s hand. His cold fingers stung hers, and she almost pulled back. His lips were pallid. She shook him. “Wake up, Su. Wake up.”
His friend shook his head. A tear slid down his cheek and plopped onto the rough-hewn floors.
Kaiya’s chest tightened, and her shoulders heaved. No, she couldn’t cry. Not when all these boys saw her as an imperial princess. Sniffling, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders.
The metal door swung open. She turned to see. To berate whatever guard came in, for letting a boy die. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Chen Xin, Zhao Yue, Li Wei, Ma Jun, and Xu Zhan spilled in, their faces bruised and their blue robes torn in places, their magic breastplates taken. Oh Heavens, if they were prisoners, it meant that the decoy—Hardeep—had failed.
She gently laid Su’s head on the ground and stood. “Guards.”
Their eyes widened in unison. It would have been funny if not for the grave circumstances. Immediately, they sank to their knee, fist to the ground. “Dian-xia,” they shouted.
“It’s true!” one boy said.
“She is the princess.” Another could barely speak.
“She saved us.”
The boys dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground.
She certainly didn’t feel like a princess. Wearing just a ripped-up inner gown, her shins exposed when she took off the shorn sleeves of her outer gown. “Rise. You knew me as Wang, and so it shall be now.” She turned to Chen Xin. “What happened?”
“Dian-xia,” he said. “Why are you here?”