by JC Kang
Minister Hong bowed. “I will assist you, as well.”
Kaiya nodded, and they proceeded up the marble steps. Weiyong kept his firm hand in hers, pulling her with encouragement when she slowed. Minister Hong offered a tentative hand on her elbow as well. Behind them, imperial guards and other officials muttered at the breach of decorum.
At last, they arrived at the top. Her legs protested as she stepped over the ghost-tripping threshold, but with Weiyong’s help, she made it across without an embarrassing tumble to the ground. The room quieted as soon as she stepped in.
How could there be so few people? Whereas the ministers, officials, and hereditary lords used to cover almost every chi of the floor, today there couldn’t be more than sixty. The Jade Throne at the front of the hall stood empty, though Regent Liu sat at its right hand. Beside him knelt an old man…Treasury Minister Geng.
Kaiya took a deep breath and straightened her carriage. Murmurs surfaced again as she glided down the central row between the thin ranks of men. Just before the throne, she stopped, stretched out her arms to straighten her sleeves, and knelt. How low to bow? Maybe if her baby nephew sat on the throne, recognized as Tianzi, it would warrant her forehead to the floor. A regent…no one had held that position since the Founder’s consort, over two centuries ago; and in any case, an imperial princess’ rank stood only a rung lower than a prince.
Whether Liu Yong considered her an imperial princess or not was another story. Either way, playing the role of demure woman would more likely win him over. Waiting until Chief Minister Hong took his place on the dais, she set her hands in front of her knees and bowed low. Whispers rumbled through the assembled men.
“Rise.” The regent waved a dismissive hand. Behind him, Minister Geng whispered something in his ear.
She raised her head. “Jie-xia, I—”
“—are trying to incite a revolt against my grandson’s rule, I hear.” He scowled.
At least Chief Minister Hong had warned her, so it didn’t come as a surprise. “No, Jie-xia. I have come with dire news of a Teleri invasion.”
The lords and ministers broke out in a low murmur of confusion. Minister Geng leaned in and whispered something to Liu again. Chief Minister Hong tried to approach the regent, only to have Minster Geng box him out. Perhaps Hong had less influence than he thought.
The regent slapped his hand down on the armrest. “A distraction, making use of the light towers to scare the populace and rally the troops to you. You cannot fool me. No army can breach the Great Wall.”
Kaiya shook her head. “I assure you—”
“What you say does not agree with what you did.” Minister Geng wagged his finger at her. “The way station claimed you approached with a ragtag militia of insurgents and imperial soldiers. I think you were raising an army of your own.”
It was clear who was in charge. A baby might act as Tianzi, a fool might be regent, but ultimately, it was an ambitious minister who pulled more than purse strings. Kaiya placed a hand on her chest and faced Liu Yong, whose bewildered expression did not bode well for Hua. “Jie-xia, I only wanted to warn the capital as quickly as possible.”
Brows furrowed, the regent looked at Minister Geng, who in turn stared at her as if she were a commoner.
Chief Minister Hong cleared his throat. “Princess Kaiya has always had the realm’s best interests at heart.”
Minister Geng counted on his fingers. “Misappropriation of imperial resources. Fomenting rebellion. Jie-xia, you must ascertain her loyalty to your grandson, the Tianzi. Allow me some time with her, alone, for questioning.” A lurid smile formed. No surprise, given his lecherous reputation.
Hong’s complexion blanched. “Jie-xia, I have always been loyal to you. I will retire. Please allow me to marry Princess Kaiya, and I will ensure she does not meddle in your affairs.”
The assembled ministers and minor lords all broke out into animated discussion.
Kaiya suppressed a scoff. No one believed the Teleri were invading. The nation was on the brink of collapse, and two old men were fighting to bed her.
A smirk formed on Regent Liu’s face, his eyes narrowing. That was an idea forming, and if the current proceedings were any indication, that idea would have nothing to do with bolstering the capital’s defenses.
He raised his hand, and the room ebbed into quiet. He turned and grinned at Chief Minister Hong. “I seem to remember a promise you made me a year ago, when you were Imperial Household Minister. It was at Lord Peng’s pavilion, the night he tried to assassinate our beautiful young princess and frame the Madurans.”
Apparently, Lord Liu was much more aware of things than he let on, or at least he remembered this particular detail. Minister Geng leaned in to the regent’s ear, only to be rebuffed with a wave of the hand. On the other side, Hong’s leathery face flushed an interesting shade of crimson as his eyes met Kaiya’s. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Lord Liu’s stare fell on her as well. “Imagine how differently things might have been if Peng had succeeded. You would be dead, and it would be him sitting here,” he nodded toward the Jade Throne, “instead of leading some insignificant rebellion.”
Kaiya looked from the regent to Hong and back. Where this was headed was anyone’s guess, though it likely had little to do with mobilizing the army.
Liu beckoned Chief Minister Hong off the dais with a jerk of his hand. “I accept your resignation, since I had to fulfill your promise on my own. You,” Liu said, pointing an obtuse finger at her, “will marry my second son, Liu Deying, who will serve as Chief Minister.”
CHAPTER 24:
That Which The Spirits Brought Together
Jie hid behind a vacant street vendor stall as Teleri soldiers marched through Huajing’s busiest marketplace. Storm clouds hung high above, while wind blew through flags and paper lanterns in the deserted city streets. Crushed squashes and fall greens lay scattered about, strange to see during the spring.
Time to sit and wait. Once the Teleri column passed, she’d resume her search for…Tian? No, she’d found him. She was searching for…her parents? What a strange notion.
Somewhere down a side street, a woman spoke with frantic urgency, in the feeble voice of a dying person. “The elves won’t protect her. My father will.”
That voice! Familiar. It plucked at the primordial chords of Jie’s very existence. Teleri army be damned, she had to find the speaker. She rose and picked the most likely side street. Her shoulder hurt as if Yanluo, God of Death, was yanking on her arm from down in Hell, while leaving the rest of her in the world of the living.
At least the Bovyans didn’t seem too interested in her. They kept their eyes forward, marching inexorably toward the river docks. The woman had spoken somewhere nearby, but Jie scanned several side streets to no avail.
A male voice rose in song, each note perfect, rising and falling like the hymn the gods sang to create the world. Its beauty rivaled Princess Kaiya’s singing.
Ears perking, Jie froze in place. That song! A lullaby. A wave of calm washed over her. In a daze, she ambled forward, one foot in front of the other, heading toward the music like a moth toward a flame.
There! By an abandoned shop, near stacked crates, the singing man knelt, cradling the dying woman. His golden hair tumbled behind a pointed ear. Even though distance and shadows obscured their faces, their love resonated in the man’s music and the woman’s dying breaths.
Jie took several more steps, moving to within a biao’s throw away. The man looked up and met her gaze with large violet eyes. He had to be one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, and yet, even thinking that felt wrong. With a smile, he proffered an arrow. Silvery impurities veined in regular patterns through its transparent crystal point.
A gift? From an elf? Jie stopped mid-stride. To receive it seemed like accepting that part of herself, the one she denied. No. She faltered back.
A regiment of snarling altivorcs streamed out from between two buildings, blocki
ng her view of the elf man and his arrow. Glaring at her, they parted to make way for a leader who stood a head taller than the rest. Dressed in a dapper military uniform, he was handsome, even more so than the altivorc prince she’d killed in Iksuvius. He spun a magic wand around his finger.
Jie drew her dao. Refusing the gift from the elf was one thing; being denied by some pretty altivorc prince and his henchmen was another. She took a long stride forward.
With a grin that exposed his fangs, the prince thrust the wand into a sheath on his belt. He stepped aside and yanked on a chain. A little half-elf girl…Kala…stumbled forward. A short, cloaked figure emerged on the other side of her.
An unknown variable. Jie paused. A prince and foot soldiers already posed a challenge. How could she rescue Kala—
The cloaked figure lowered its hood.
Jie gasped. She might have been looking in a mirror. Kiri? Her twin gazed back with a killer’s eyes, so unlike her usual sadness. Drawing a shorter version of an altivorc broadsword, Kiri charged.
Metal clashed against metal, the reverberation sending vibrations through Jie’s hand. The pain in her shoulder flared. Combat, instead of slowing, seemed to speed up. Kiri moved blindingly fast, like the Golden Scorpion Jie had faced in Vyara City. That encounter hadn’t ended well.
Jie fell back under the onslaught of slashes and hacks. There was no way to win this, not with her shoulder. Heart hammering in her chest, she turned and ran.
In seconds, she caught up with the crowd of Teleri heavy infantry. With their huge size, they offered a perfect place to hide from Kiri. She picked her way through the ranks, slaying Bovyans who blocked her. One, three, six—they fell before her, opening a path of escape. She had to get away.
One collapsed, and a ray of light sprayed in the opening he left in the orderly lines. In her blind fear, she’d reached the front! Maybe it would be safer to keep running.
Jie burst out of the line of soldiers, not far from the river docks. Only one man stood ahead of her: Emperor Geros. If she killed him, the invasion of Hua would surely falter. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. No, that felt wrong. Killing Geros felt like killing Tian.
Yet another strange notion, in a day of strange notions. She ran around him instead. On the other side, Tian stood, beckoning her. Jie raced into his embrace. Warm, protective, comforting. They could stay like this forever…
Jie’s eyes fluttered open. Fluffy and cool, the bed beneath her back might’ve been made of clouds, while a puffy fur blanket covered her to the chin. A warm hand clasped hers outside the blanket. She craned her neck to see.
Tian. Sitting on the treetop floor, he leaned against her bed. His head rested in the cradle of one elbow while his other hand held hers. Eyes closed, his back rose and fell.
An elf with gifts, altivorcs, murderous twins, and Teleri emperors. It must’ve all been a dream. A very real dream. Yet, just like at the dream’s end, here she was, with Tian.
Pulse racing, she squeezed his hand.
His eyes popped open and he sat up straight. “Jie! I’m so glad you are okay. You were unconscious for several hours.”
“No thanks to you.” She pouted at him.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yes, so Ming told me. I owe you my life.”
“Again. So, are you all right?” With her free hand, she beckoned for him to lower his head. “The Bovyan hit you pretty hard.”
“Yes, just a lump.” He rubbed a spot on his scalp.
She giggled. “Apparently, amnesia claimed your sense of awareness.” To sit up, she brought her elbows up under her… Her right shoulder moved, pain-free, but inordinately stiff. Like it wasn’t her own arm. She freed her hand from Tian’s grasp and tried to stretch it out.
Tian lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“My arm.” Though it didn’t hurt, everything felt bound up around the wound. Her heart stuttered. If she couldn’t use her arm, what use was she as a Moquan? “My arm,” she repeated, panic rising in her voice.
“Let me see.” Tian started to pull back the fur blanket.
No, he would see her boyish figure, so flat compared to Princess Kaiya’s curves. Jie pressed the blanket down, only exposing her shoulder. She twisted to get a look herself, but the wound was too close to her neck.
He shook his head. “Nayori bandaged the cut. Let me get her.”
“No.” She pulled his hand as he started to rise. “Stay with me, please.”
Tian searched her eyes, and with a nod, settled onto the floor beside her.
Jie tested her arm again, yielding the same result. Though painless, her shoulder seized and her arm refused to move. Her very identity laid in her Moquan skills. If she couldn’t use her arm, she would be…normal. Tears threatened to overcome her, but she blinked them away and buried her face in her left arm.
The elf shaman Nayori’s voice rode on the wind, in the language of Hua. “You have woken from your dreams.”
Jie wiped her eyes and peered up.
Nayori flashed a grim smile. “Sit up.”
Clasping the blanket at her neck, Jie sat up. Cool air brushed across her shoulders, but her back seemed covered. She pulled the covers forward and peeked… and let out a sigh of relief. A long dress of animal skins passed under her arms and wrapped around her chest.
“Kiri’s,” the shaman said.
It would make sense that her twin’s clothes would fit. Still...memories of Kiri from the dream sent a shudder through her.
Nayori leaned in and pulled away the bandage, which stank of pungent herbs. She smiled. “It is completely healed.”
Crowding in, Tian nodded. “There’s no sign of an injury at all.”
No injury at all? Jie tried to move her arm again, and again, the shoulder locked up. “Then why can’t I move my arm?”
Nayori sighed. “The grace of Ayara has healed your body. Your spirit, on the other hand…perhaps only Aralas himself could channel the energy to repair that.”
Tian tapped his chin. “You said you didn’t believe Aralas was the Angel of Koralas.”
“We don’t. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t powerful in magic.”
Now was not the time for a history lesson. Jie’s voice cracked. “How do I heal my spirit?”
Nayori searched her eyes. “What did your dreams tell you?”
The dreams didn’t make sense, and certain parts remained better untold. Jie shrugged, but even then, her shoulder refused to obey her brain’s command. “I was chased by Kiri.”
“Then maybe you will find answers with Kiri.” Nayori’s gaze swept along the other trees before returning to Jie. “With those answers, you might regain use of your shoulder.”
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to get Kiri to talk. It was hopeless. Tears again welled in Jie’s eyes.
Tian leaned in and enveloped her in his embrace, pulling her close. It was so soothing, and Jie buried her head into his shoulder. He stroked her hair and pressed his chin into the crest of her head. It felt so right, the way things had been meant to be before the princess had come back into Tian’s life.
She looked up and pressed her face into his neck. She had found him, alive. Perhaps spying and killing didn’t define who she was any more than the elf blood she never wanted. Maybe as long as she had him, they could reinvent themselves and she wouldn’t need her arm.
Nayori cleared her throat. “Tian, the human shaman you lived with awaits you at the pool.”
Tian held Jie’s hand as they headed to the sacred pool, the memory of her lips on his neck sending shivers through him. It felt so right. She felt so right. No wonder he’d felt so close to Kiri, her identical twin, in such a short amount of time. Maybe the Doe-Eyed Girl was just a figment of his imagination, some fantasy, while Jie was here and now. Had they been more than just clan brother and sister? It might explain the way she looked at him. Yet she was holding back, not telling him everything.
Her palm felt cold and clammy in his. Each of her steps was
tentative. Maybe she felt as excited as him about meeting this shaman. Maybe it would spark memories where his reunion with Ming and Jie had not.
Heart racing, he turned to glance at Ming, just a few steps behind. His brother stared at Tian and Jie’s clasped hands, his expression alternating between bewilderment and relief. No doubt, whatever history lay between Ming and Jie would make for an interesting tale.
They climbed up the rocks to the gap between the boulders. On the other side, voices spoke in the Kanin language. What would the shaman say? Tian’s legs wobbled beneath him. With a deep breath, he entered.
Two men stood by the pool, gawking at him. One wore the feathers and shells of a Kanin shaman; the other dressed like a tribesman, though his face was from Beyond the Wall. Neither sparked a rushing back of repressed memories. On the other hand, beyond the expected disbelief in their expression, there was something else…anger, perhaps? Such a strange response.
“Brother,” the shaman said in the Kanin language. “The spirits did not deceive us with their most unbelievable news, that your own spirit had returned to the land of the living.”
The man from Beyond the Wall nodded. “Several people saw you die.”
“A skill from our clan.” Tian squeezed Jie’s hand, drawing stares. “However, it has cost me my memories. I’m sorry, I do not even remember you or your names.”
The shaman’s mouth formed a circle. Then he placed a hand over his chest and spread it out in an arc. “I am Yuha, shaman of Swiftrun Village.”
“Ma Jun, imperial guard of Hua.” The other put his right fist in his left hand, and also exchanged nods with Ming. “Young Lord Zheng.”
Ming grinned. “It has been a long time since we all assaulted the Levanthi pyramid.” He cast Jie a sideward glance.
“Evidently, you’ve forgotten more than our names.” Lips pursed, Yuha pointed at their joined hands. “You do not belong to this woman.”
Jie’s palm clasped his tightly, sending his stomach fluttering like a dragonfly’s wings. No, it couldn’t be. Certainly they were meant for each other.