by JC Kang
Her five most trusted imperial guards, likewise disguised, kept hands on their dao hilts. Chen Xin walked a few paces ahead, ensuring no citizen got too close. More grey streaked his black hair now, perhaps because of such frequent forays into the city. From the way their eyes darted back and forth, one would’ve thought a new insurrection was brewing.
Covering a giggle with a hand, Kaiya beckoned them to a stop in a quiet intersection. “Chen Xin, if it were dangerous out here, the Ministry of Appointments would have never let us out.” Two years ago, they wouldn’t have, but Father had given her some leeway after her role in putting down the rebellion in the North with the power of the Dragon Scale Lute.
“Dian-xia,” he said, using the formal address, “We should turn back. Your meeting with General Lu...”
Kaiya suppressed a shudder and looked up at the iridescent moon Caiyue, never moving from its reliable spot to the south. It waned past its second crescent. “What time is the meeting?”
“Just short of the third crescent.” Ma Jun grinned, emphasizing his boyish looks.
Chen Xin’s lips pursed. “If we turned back now—”
“We’d still fall short.” Ma Jun stared at the sky, ignoring the elbow Zhao Yue jabbed into him.
She scanned the surroundings, trying to get her bearings. They couldn’t be much further. If only she had a better sense of direction. Had they gone straight there... “Just a few more minutes.”
Ma Jun shook his head. “General Lu has a short temper.”
Whether or not the Guardian Dragon deserved ridicule, it wasn’t appropriate to mock him. She fixed Ma Jun with a glare until he cast his gaze down. Satisfied, she found the iridescent moon again. If it was to the south, that meant east—
“That way.” Zhao Yue jutted his prominent chin at the next street corner.
Heat rose to her cheeks. Of course they knew the destination. To hide her embarrassment, she headed in the way he indicated.
At the intersection, sunlight enveloped her in warmth, a reminder that spring was only a week away. It’d been two years ago, around this time, when Prince Hardeep had begged for her help. Her hand strayed to the lotus jewel, Hardeep’s token, under her sash.
Heart fluttering, she hummed. With the resolute pulse of the world beneath her feet, she raised the volume. The sounds of walking feet, haggling merchants, and gossiping housewives guided her as she used the hum to bring harmony to the disparate sounds. Around her, commoners going about their daily drudgery smiled. Even dour Chen Xin’s stiff shoulders loosened.
Her chest swelled. After two years of practice, her mood flitted through her music. It affected a larger audience now, even without the use of a musical instrument. Perhaps she could finally help Prince Hardeep liberate his homeland from the Madurans. Once you have grown in your music, I am sure you will come for me, he’d said. If only there was a way to convince Father.
The scent of turmeric wafted from a street up ahead. They were close. The bright yellow, orange, and red streamers beckoned her. They turned another corner into the Ankiran ghetto, where angry cacophony drowned out her hum.
“You brownies go home!” a male voice bellowed.
“Leeches!” said another.
“Steal someone else’s job.”
Two dozen burly Hua men, muscles bulging from threadbare shirts and pants, massed in a boisterous wall of antagonism in the middle of the street. On the other side, a group of darker-skinned Ayuri folk, mostly women and children, cowered.
The guards formed a protective shield around Kaiya, even as she craned her neck to get a better view.
A lanky fellow in fine silk robes pushed to the front of the Hua men. His slicked-back hair contributed to an appearance oily enough to lubricate a dwarf siege engine. “Look here, we don’t care what kind of work you do, just as long as you stay out of the construction of the outer wall.”
A middle-aged woman pressed her palms together and bowed her head. She spoke in fluent but accented Hua. “Kind sir, that’s all our young men can do. We would starve—”
He waved a hand at the surrounding row houses, painted in lively purples and blues. “Maybe you should use your money for food instead of ruining our city with your garish customs.”
The woman touched her ear, an Ayuri sign of apology he wouldn't understand. “We were only able to beautify our neighborhood with the generosity of Lord Peng and Princess Kaiya.”
Kaiya twirled a lock of hair, loosened from where she’d already removed gold pins, the ones she regularly gave to Prince Hardeep’s people. It was good to know Cousin Kai-Long had been generous with them, too.
The union leader apparently had different ideas. He threw his hands up. “You see? The Tianzi allowed your kind to live here, and now you waste money taken from our national coffers.”
Three young Ankiran men jostled their way to the front line. One jabbed a finger into the Hua leader’s chest. “It’s your country’s fault we are refugees. The least you could do—”
The leader punched the teen in the jaw, and then jerked his thumb toward the homes. “It’s about time we taught you freeloaders a lesson. Men, ransack the place.”
Kaiya’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening. Not in Huajing. She started forward.
Chen Xin blocked her way. “Dian-xia, you cannot risk revealing yourself. There are only five of us to protect you.”
With their swordsmanship, two was more than enough. She gestured toward the construction workers, now shoving through the women. “The city is safe. The only violence in the last three hundred years was the attack on these refugees! You saw the aftermath.” Dozens had been murdered in cold blood.
Chen Xin dropped to his knee, fist to the ground. “Dian-xia, please.” The other imperial guards followed suit. If they were trying not to reveal her identity, they weren’t doing a good job.
With the guards bowing down, she had a better view. The young Ankiran men lay on the ground, curling up against kicks. More of the hooligans ripped down the streamers and decorations that marked the Ankiran ghetto.
“Stop!” Kaiya yelled.
She might have been a statue for all the attention anyone paid. Not a single Hua or Ayuri even looked in her direction. And if the fighting didn’t stop soon, the ruffians would ruin the refugees’ efforts to make their Hua houses feel like an Ayuri home.
Two years. It’d been two years since she’d used a Dragon Song for anything of consequence. This situation might pale in comparison to a rebellious lord slaughtering unarmed young men, but these downtrodden foreigners’ livelihoods were at stake. The screaming grew louder.
Do not use magic as a crutch, Father had said. Even more ominously, the mysterious elf Xu claimed that powerful musical magic was a beacon for the dragon Avarax. Yet right now, there was no other recourse.
Through her slippers, she gripped the pavestones with her toes. The resolute pulse of the earth coursed into her, rising though her core as she straightened her spine. She raised her voice in song. Spring Festival, a favorite for this time of year, celebrated magnanimity. Her notes merged the rhythm of her countrymen’s angry jeers with the cadence of the Ankirans’ sniffling cries. Her arms grew heavy and her legs wobbled.
The commotion silenced. Everyone turned and looked at her, their eyes glazed over in reverie.
“Please,” Kaiya said, catching her breath. “The Ankirans are our guests.”
The workers’ leader shook his head, sending his oiled hair into disarray. The sharpness returned to his eyes. Chest puffed out, he strode over. “Who are you—”
Dao rasped out of scabbards as her guards rose. Their cloaks swooshed open, revealing their distinctive breastplates. The etched lines of the five-clawed dragon flashed in the sun, evoking awe in those not used to seeing it. Save for their leader, the Hua workers skittered back, dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground. The Ankirans pressed their palms together and lowered their heads.
The oily leader’s face shifted from her
to the others and back again before he, too, dropped to his knees. “Dian-xia.”
Identity compromised, Kaiya lowered her hood and adopted a tone of imperial authority. “Citizens of Huajing, I understand your concerns. I will present your case to the Ministry of Works.”
The leader pressed his forehead to the ground. “Thank you, Dian-xia.”
“You may go.” She waved a hand, dismissing them. Such a flashy motion. Father could have accomplished the same effect with a mere tilt of his eyebrows, no words required.
“Yes, Dian-xia.” With a jerk of his chin, the leader guided his men away.
Head still bowed, the Ankiran matron stepped forward. “Your Highness, thank you. Men like that harass us on a daily basis.”
Daily? Kaiya’s stomach tightened. How awful it must be to be far away from home, treated like vermin. She’d never know. She switched to the Ayuri tongue. “I will speak to the city watch.” The day’s itinerary now included visits to the Ministry of Works, the city watch, and General Lu, not necessarily in that order. To think that two years ago, her only duty had been to get married.
One of the young men spat. “You’d better talk to the watch. It’s your fault we are stuck here. If you hadn’t sold firepowder—”
Whether they understood the Ayuri language or not, the imperial guards stomped forward. The man shrunk back.
“Enough, Ashook.” The matron waved him back. “Do not blame the princess for a decision made before she was born. She has tried hard to support us.”
“Not hard enough,” he muttered under his breath. Quiet, but loud enough for Kaiya’s keen ears to catch.
She turned to the matron. “We no longer sell firepowder to Madura. Maybe with the help of the Ayuri Paladins, Ankira will expel them.”
The matron teared up as she shook her head. “The Paladins are too afraid of Avarax.”
The last dragon’s name sent a quiver down Kaiya’s spine. He guarded against anyone gaining the power to sing him to sleep, like the slave girl Yanyan had done before the War of Ancient Gods. After Kaiya's use of the Dragon Scale Lute, Father had sent spies to keep an eye on Avarax’s lair. In the last two years, he had yet to leave the Dragonlands. She shook the worries out of her mind. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the lute—now destroyed—or he knew her paltry music was no threat to him.
Behind her, a door to one of the row houses slid open. The guards tightened their circle around her. She spun around.
Standing in the doorway of a house near the end of the block was Cousin Kai-Long’s courier. The rugged soldier from Nanling Province delivered Prince Hardeep’s secret messages. What was he doing in the Ankiran ghetto? His eyes met hers and widened. He dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Dian-xia, I was just coming to see you. I have a letter from...Lord Peng.”
Kaiya’s stomach fluttered. That letter most certainly wasn’t from Cousin Kai-Long. She shuffled over to the messenger and, casting a glance back at the guards who trailed just a sword’s reach away, received the folded paper cover in two trembling hands. She pressed it against her heart, which pattered like spring rain on roof tiles. The ink’s scent invited her to rip the cover open and look.
No, not in front of prying eyes. She turned to Chen Xin. “General Lu must be waiting. We must return to the palace posthaste.”
If her guards’ jaws could hang open any wider, Avarax himself might grow jealous. Ma Jun opened and closed his mouth several times before he found his words. “Such short notice...”
CHAPTER 2:
Love Letters
The shuffling of the imperial guards outside the Hall of Righteous Hearts barely registered in Kaiya’s ears as she pressed the latest letter from Prince Hardeep against her chest. Her grasp of the Ayuri language had improved through their regular correspondence, and the poetic imagery of his words became more vibrant with each note. Her stomach twisted in pleasant knots, imitating the graceful loops and whorls of his script.
She looked down and read it again.
Kaiya, my love, I gaze across my war-torn homeland and see immeasurable suffering. The only thing that gives me hope, brings me joy, is the memory of you. The fullness of your lips so close to mine. The gentle curve of your chin which I still feel beneath my fingers. And your voice, so melodic that it still carries me now. Alas, how I wish I could be at your side. The liquid brown eyes that truly saw me.
If only he could see her now. She was no longer an awkward, lanky girl with enough pimples to make a topographical map of Tivara. He’d—
“Dian-xia,” an official outside the door called. “General Lu is here.”
Kaiya stuffed the letter into the sash behind her back and squared her shoulders.
The doors opened. General Lu stepped over the ghost-tripping threshold and into the hall. Glossy black hair framed his oval face, and his light complexion, chiseled jaw, and nose all spoke of Hua’s north. He would have cut a dashing figure in his formal blue court robes if he weren’t so short. Behind him, her handmaiden Meiling and imperial guard Ma Jun exchanged raised eyebrows, while a secretary from the Ministry of Household Affairs bowed low.
“Dian-xia.” General Lu dropped to his knee, fist to the marble floor.
She nodded, allowing him out of the salute. “General, please forgive my tardiness.”
“The princess has important matters to deal with.” Though he lowered his head in respect, his acerbic tone suggested otherwise. No doubt he still held a grudge from two years before, when her music had reduced him to tears; and then, not a day later, she’d put down the rebellion in the North with the Dragon Scale Lute before his own nearby army even arrived. Behind his back, some even called the Guardian Dragon the Sleeping Dragon.
She knew. He knew she knew, and yet, the annual ritual continued. As if one day, she’d finally relent and he’d succeed where all the other suitors had failed. She conjured a smile as contrived as his tone. “General, I understand you have kept the North tranquil.”
A grin formed on his lips, even as his gaze strayed to her cleavage. “You have followed my exploits?”
Using muskets to defend fortified higher ground against barbarians armed with primitive single-shot crossbows hardly constituted an exploit, but there was no need to antagonize him. She crossed an arm over her chest to brush an errant lock of hair from her face. “I heard that you rebuilt Wailian Castle.”
His eyes shot up to meet hers. “Yes. The main keep no longer stands above old mines. We won’t have a repeat of the last invasion.”
Her hand strayed to the lotus jewel at her hip, concealed by a sash. Prince Hardeep’s token. He’d rescued her from the burning castle before it collapsed into the network of tunnels. It was still unclear how the Dragon Scale Lute had ignited the firepowder stored down there. “You undoubtedly learned from Lord Tong’s mistakes.”
“Well, I was the one who suggested he store the firepowder there, just in case we would ever have to take it from him.” He flashed a smug grin. “The castle was only impregnable in name before; now it is fact.”
Kaiya kept from pursing her lips. Like all her other suitors, the general’s favorite topic was himself. The only men who ever cared about what she thought were Prince Hardeep and her childhood friend Tian. Who knew where either were now?
She met the general’s gaze. Prompt him along, and perhaps he’d use up all his allotted time bragging without bringing up marriage. She said, “I understand the Tianzi plans to elevate you to Yu-Ming status and grant you full authority over Wailian County.”
His smile spread even further, the edges of his lips nearly reaching his ears. “The citizens are content, the borders secure. The saltpeter mines surpass quotas. All the castle needs now is a lady.”
Kaiya cringed. He’d weaseled his way into broaching the topic of marriage. She’d virtually given him the opening, and no doubt his military mind seized the advantage. It was time to redirect. “Many eligible girls are coming of age this year. Chen Meili, Fei Qing, Chu Yingying are beautiful Yu-Ming daughte
rs. They’d all be appropriate brides for a newly-appointed Yu-Ming lord.”
“The Tianzi suggests I aim higher.” If only his focus, fixed on her chest again, aimed higher.
She made a show of pondering, scrunching her forehead and nose. “Tai-Ming Lord Lin’s daughter Ziqiu, Lord Peng Kai-Long’s sister Naying or Lord Liu Yong’s daughter Lili are all eligible.” Ziqiu was sweet, if flighty, though Naying was something of a bully, and statuesque Lili stood a head taller than General Lu.
His eyes lifted and bored into hers. “I had someone else in mind.”
Kaiya looked up at the dwarf-made water clock. “Oh! General, forgive me, but I have an appointment with my doctor.”
“At half-past the fourth crescent?” General Lu cocked his head.
In her haste, she hadn’t actually noted the time. At least the appointment was real, even if it was much later. She raised her voice in hopes that the officials, her guards, anyone, would hear her. “It is back in the castle, and I have to change.”
Wrong words. His gaze roved over her body, likely plotting out a battle plan with her curves as the terrain. How much easier life had been two years ago, when she was flat and acne-ridden. At least then, the suitors didn’t leer at her like wolves.
General Lu sank to a knee. “Princess Kaiya, I have asked the Tianzi for permission to marry you.”
How presumptuous! It was all Kaiya could do to keep from gaping. Hopefully, Father had not promised anything. He had, after all, given her plenty of leeway in this matter since the fall of Wailian Castle. She placed a hand on her chest. “General, I am flattered by your request. However, I am afraid there is another.” Hardeep, whom Father would never approve of, but this half-truth would at least extricate both of them with dignity intact.
“I was unaware of a leading candidate.”
She flashed a smile. “As the Founder said, Knowledge of a combatant’s disposition is the key to victory.”
“Which can only be obtained with use of spies,” he finished. “The Tianzi has the best spies in the world, and yet, he is apparently as unaware of your disposition as I.”