by JC Kang
Leina watched as the young Tai-Ming lord disappeared down the path. She turned her attention back to the chessboard. With a trembling hand, she moved her Knight into danger, faking a careless attack on Hong’s king. “Check.”
“Ha!” Hong Jianbin pounced on her diversion, capturing her knight with a pawn.
It opened a path in his line, and she slid her queen through. She clapped her hands together with a delighted squeal. “Checkmate!”
Jianbin’s mouth gaped, his wrinkled brow furrowing even more. With eyes darting from her to the board, he used his crooked finger to trace the sequence of moves that led from an apparent victory to sudden defeat.
While he shook his head in disbelief, she thought back to their discussion before the clandestine meeting with Peng. Jianbin had prattled on about Cathay’s incomparable resources and ingenuity, eldarwood trees and the need for a great leader. To her, it was a soulless nation without morals. Their sale of guns and firepower to Madura had led to the occupation of her homeland. If the Tianzi ruled with the Mandate of Heaven, then the gods must have a sick sense of humor.
Leina had spared herself the boring history lesson by prompting the old man along, ignoring his biased conclusions. The Wang Dynasty’s history, as told by men, always extolled the genius of its founder. Wang Xinchang had invented the gun and taken advantage of the chaos following the Hellstorm and Long Winter to pacify All Under Heaven. Little did the historians talk of his consort, who set Cathay on the road to prosperity during her eighty-year rule as regent after his death.
Now after observing Peng Kai-Long’s interaction with Hong, she wondered. Was he indeed the caliber of leader Hong believed? To her, he was just another man who spent too much time admiring his own reflection.
Hong still contemplated the board. Just like in chess, he missed the glaring flaw in his plan to seize power: it relied on a stupid opponent.
“You are right,” she said. “Lord Peng is a dynamic man. But would you really allow him to become Tianzi?”
Old Jianbin looked up and laughed. “Dear Leina, you may be good at the Northerner’s version of chess, but you do not have an eye for real strategy.”
“Of course not, dear Jian.” Leina hated having to feign stupidity and affection for the wretched old man. It was nearly as bad as being his lover. “Then why do you need him at all?”
Jianbin favored her with the same patronizing smile which she always pretended not to notice. “Because he has what I do not. Youth, handsomeness, charisma, and more importantly, the right bloodline,” Hong virtually spat the word, “he is the figurehead who can rally our allies. He also has a motive to murder the Tianzi and his sons, and will be the perfect scapegoat after the firework show.”
Leina crinkled her nose. Lord Peng had surely seen through Jianbin’s plan, but that was something the old minister need not know. Because if she manipulated the situation correctly, both men would be dead and the nation thrown into chaos. She only hoped that once she’d fulfilled that task, her employer would keep his promise and free her mother.
CHAPTER 5:
Change of Heart
Kaiya usually found the absolute silence in the Hall of Reflection’s inner sanctum almost as unsettling as the countless criss-cross coffering on the walls, floors, ceiling, and door. Acoustically, it was the exact opposite of the Hall of Pure Melody, the Yin to its Yang.
Yet now, even after the whimsical sensation from Xiulan’s calligraphy had worn off, even with Father’s ultimatum to choose a husband, even inside the otherwise unnerving chamber, Hardeep’s latest letter sent her heart skittering to the same frequency as his lotus jewel in her sash.
Cousin Kai-Long’s messenger stood outside the building, rarely used among the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine rooms on the palace grounds. Her cousin had been generous in facilitating the clandestine written exchange, and it wouldn’t do to let his personal messenger wait so long.
Setting the letter down, she took up a brush and jotted a hasty response. How excited Hardeep would look when he read it, that broad smile beaming, those blue eyes sparkling. She scanned the page, searching for any mistakes.
Perfect.
She stood and poked her head out the door with the note in hand, heedless of her own mischievous grin.
The smile melted.
Second Brother Kai-Wu, Yanli’s husband, plucked the letter out of her hand. Behind him, a minister bowed. Several imperial guards, including her own Chen Xin and Li Wei, along with Peng’s messenger, all knelt on one knee. The Hall of Reflection’s sound-absorbing qualities had masked their approach, even from her keen ears.
Kaiya reached to take the letter back, but Second Brother thrust it behind his back.
His eyes narrowed. “What is this?”
“Nothing important. Just a message to Cousin Peng.” As always, she’d written Kai-Long’s name on the cover sheet, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.
To her dismay, Second Brother unwrapped the cover and unfolded the letter. His gaze raked over the text, his brow furrowing. “You are writing to Peng in Ayuri?”
Kaiya tried to snatch the letter again, but Second Brother passed it back to the minister. She clenched her jaw. Hopefully, the minister could not read the foreign script.
Oh, no. The official’s shifting eyes widened. He looked up at her before dropping his chin. “Dian-xia. It is a, uh... note... to whom, I do not know, but the message is... well....”
Kaiya’s heart lurched in her chest as she clenched and unclenched her clammy hands. Her year-old secret, carefully concealed from all but Lord Peng, exposed.
Second Brother stared at the minister, who withered under her brother’s glower. “Speak.”
“Dian-xia. It is a love letter.”
Kai-Wu’s mouth dropped open. He turned to the imperial guards. “Take Peng’s messenger into custody. Find Lord Peng and command him to present himself before me at once.”
“As the prince commands!” The imperial guards snapped to attention before hurrying to fulfill his order.
Second Brother took Kaiya’s arm and pulled her back into the hall’s inner sanctum. He closed the doors behind him and leveled his glare. After several long minutes, he spoke, the chamber rendering his voice oddly flat. “Is this why you have rejected so many suitors? For some secret affair? I pray to the Heavens you have not given yourself to a man.”
Kaiya’s cheeks flushed hot. Did he just...as if... “No...no, of course not.”
“So you are not having an inappropriate liaison with the messenger?” Brother Kai-Wu asked.
The messenger? Her breath caught in her throat. “No. Of course not,” she repeated.
Searching her eyes, Kai-Wu exhaled sharply. “Very well. A rumor circulates among the palace servants that you have been secretly meeting with one of Lord Peng’s men whenever he visits the capital. If not him, then who is it?”
Kaiya sighed. There was no use in hiding it. They would find out soon enough. “Prince Hardeep.”
Brow furrowing, Kai-Wu cocked his head. “Who is he?”
“The Prince of Ankira.”
“Ankira? Aren’t they in a war or something?”
Kaiya nodded. “Occupied. Prince Hardeep leads their resistance.”
“So a foreigner. This is most inappropriate.”
It was true. Yet up to now, the suitors all saw her either as a stepping stone to greater power and influence or, since her blossoming into a woman, an object to possess. Only Prince Hardeep had ever seen her, starting from their fated meeting two years ago and growing through their furtive correspondence. None could match his wit or charm. She pressed the lotus jewel in her sash, feeling its steadfast warmth against her waist.
A slot in the door opened and a voice called in. “Dian-xia. Lord Peng is here.”
Second Brother’s brow furrowed. “You are to end this relationship. We will find you someone appropriate.” He then pushed the door open. “All of you, enter.”
Lord Peng strode in with a confident gait, followed b
y the imperial guards, the minister, and the messenger. All sank to one knee.
“You may face me.” Though the otherwise aloof Kai-Wu rarely used it, his voice carried the tone of command bred into the Imperial Family. When all looked up, he raised the letter. “Lord Peng, explain this.”
Peng bowed. “Dian-xia. I have long been in contact with Ankira’s Prince Hardeep, since his embattled nation shares a border with my province. I send the Ankiran resistance supplies. I have passed messages between the foreign prince and princess for a year now.”
“You did not deem it inappropriate?”
Kaiya started to speak, but Second Brother held up a silencing hand.
“They could be writing about anything,” Peng said. “It is not my place to judge the Imperial Family.”
Of course Cousin Peng would sacrifice her to protect himself. What had she expected? Kaiya bit her lip. She was by herself in this.
Second Brother’s voice rose just a little. “Lord Peng, you will cease your intermediation between Princess Kaiya and the foreign prince.”
Peng lowered his head again. “As the prince commands.”
“The rest of you: you will not relate what occurred here today. The Tianzi must never find out. Am I understood?”
All of the assembled men bowed and spoke in unison. “As the prince commands.”
A wave of relief washed over Kaiya. At the very least, Father wouldn’t have to worry about her exposed secret.
Second Brother gestured the men out of the room. “Shut the door and wait outside.”
The men rose and shuffled out.
When the door closed behind them, Kaiya spoke. “Thank you, Second Brother.”
“You are lucky Eldest Brother did not find out about it. He has a good heart, but he lacks discretion as much as you.”
Kaiya bowed her head, contrite.
“Now, forget about this Prince Hardeep. There are many great lords in this land who will make fine husbands. In fact, I have someone in mind.”
Hardeep’s lotus jewel’s near inaudible buzz seemed to intensify as Kaiya held it over the bloodwood box. It hadn’t left her person in the two years since their parting, even when she slept or bathed.
Her heart squeezed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t put the jewel away. It felt too much like giving up on Hardeep.
No, giving up on herself.
When everyone had scoffed at her music, he’d been the only one to believe in her potential.
She’d proven herself. She’d grown in power with Lord Xu and Dr. Wu’s lessons. As much as she wanted Hardeep, her music was her own. Putting the jewel away wasn’t giving up.
Settling in Dr. Wu’s horse stance, Kaiya gripped her bedroom’s wood floors with her toes. She took a deep breath. The cool night air filled her lungs. Outside, birds chirped and frogs trilled. The symphony of spring calmed her thoughts and eased the dragonclaw on her heart.
Prince Hardeep had encouraged and inspired her, but now it was time to sing with her own voice. She would free Ankira, not because she loved Hardeep, but because it was the right thing to do.
She had thirty days.
Kaiya waited until the light breeze off Sun-Moon Lake subsided, then loosed the arrow. The man-shaped straw target standing thirty feet downrange had nothing to fear. Indeed, it seemed to be enjoying the view of melting snow caps reflected in the lake’s placid surface on this unseasonably balmy afternoon.
She sighed as the arrow missed by the worst margin in years. Her hand strayed to Hardeep’s lotus jewel. Gone.
Right. It hadn’t been easy leaving it on her make-up table four days ago, after Second Brother uncovered the relationship. Each morning it beckoned her, sending her heart racing and palms sweating. She needed Dr. Wu’s breathing techniques to resist its tug on her heart. She now plodded back to the communal quiver, head tilted down to avoid the gazes of her four friends.
Crown Princess Xiulan looked back as her shot brushed over the target’s armored shoulder. “Thinking about your meeting with Lord Shun yesterday?”
Kaiya shuddered. “He was boring.” And not a fraction as amazing as Hardeep.
“But he is handsome.” Her cousin, Wang Kai-Hua, stroked her fingers through an arrow’s fletching. The glow of her recent marriage to Young Lord Liu, the heir to Jiangzhou Province, had yet to wear off. She seemed even more radiant these days. It was good to see her happy, at last, after two years of family misfortunes.
“Oh, Lord Shun is delicious,” squealed her other cousin, Lin Ziqiu. The naïve sixteen-year-old stood beside Kaiya, her eyes wide. “I could watch him all day and not grow bored.”
All the other ladies covered laughs with their sleeves, hiding their amusement at the girl’s youthful bluntness. Yanli glowered at her, though Ziqiu didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s more to a man than his looks,” Kaiya said. “He could not hold a conversation beyond one-word answers.”
Xiulan giggled. “A handsome face can sometimes be ruined by too much talking. That’s why the Crown Prince and I rarely discuss anything of deep import.”
Ziqiu loosed an arrow, which joined her others in the target’s head with a dull thud. “That’s because you talk with your hips.”
Yanli scowled and poked Ziqiu. Sleeves flashed up again, this time covering laughs and blushes. If Xiulan’s cheeks could burn any brighter, it might seem like a recurrence of the Year of the Second Sun from antiquity.
A smile tugged at Kaiya’s lips, though she fought it off. With her chambers next to Eldest Brother’s, there was no arguing with Cousin Ziqiu’s assessment.
“If you want someone who talks,” Ziqiu prattled on, “then maybe you should consider my cousin Lin Ziqiang. He never shuts his mouth! I know my father has been discussing it with the Tianzi.”
A rumble of galloping hooves interrupted the girl’s blabbering.
Kaiya spun around.
A soldier in dark green court robes bent down from his warhorse and pulled a few arrows from the communal quiver as he cantered by. His glossy black locks whipped behind him. Was that the scent of shouwu berries? Like most ladies, she used them herself to maintain healthy hair.
All eyes followed the newcomer as he put two shafts between his teeth, fitted an arrow, twisted back and shot.
The arrow lodged dead center in the target’s head.
Kaiya turned back to the rider, just in time to see him shoot again.
It hit the target in the center of its chest, driving through the leather cuirass.
The man wheeled around and spurred his horse back toward them. He floated the last arrow upwards. She tracked its lazy arc into the target’s neck.
The horse slowed as it approached and the rider swung out of the saddle. His large eyes briefly met hers before veering toward the ground as etiquette demanded. Who was he? There was something familiar about him.
It might’ve been easier to remember without Ziqiu’s tight clutch squeezing the sensation out of her arm. The girl pressed up against her shoulder. “Who is that?” she whispered, breathless.
The archer strode over, his posture straight. His beautiful hair, which rivaled her own, obscured the family crest on his left breast.
A dozen imperial guards, who undoubtedly appreciated his showmanship more than the princesses’ mediocre archery, now interposed themselves with hands on swords.
A deep voice from the opposite direction drew her attention away from the visitor. “The Tianzi! The Crown Prince and Second Prince!”
Father and both brothers, all wearing official blue robes, approached on horseback. Dozens of imperial guards trailed them, their burnished breastplates flashing in the late afternoon sun as they jogged in exacting formation. At their head, iImperial guard commander General Zheng held the Broken Sword, a symbol of the Tianzi.
Father hadn’t ridden a horse in years. Nor did he ever come to this section of the palace grounds, generally limiting his visits to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. If not for affairs of state, he would’ve
sequestered himself across the moat in the castle. Now, he slouched in the saddle, wheezing.
In unison, the princesses pressed their practice robes down to their shins and dropped to both knees. Spreading their arms out horizontally to straighten out the sleeves, they placed open hands at the front of their knees and bowed their heads at the approach of the Tianzi.
“Rise,” he said.
Kaiya looked up.
Age hadn’t treated Father kindly. Whenever she saw his many care lines, wispy white hair, lusterless eyes, and listless gait, a lump formed in her throat. Kaiya knew well the other culprit.
His thirty-two-year reign had been marked by unprecedented prosperity for Hua, spurred by his benevolent wisdom and policy of expanded foreign trade. In recent years, some of the Tai-Ming lords had let their newfound affluence transform into avarice, and the Tai-Ming Council had become increasingly divided by the lords who wanted to expand the national borders and those who were content to maintain the status quo.
Expansionists versus Royalists. The final arbiter and decision maker, the Tianzi had been physically and mentally drained by the contentious situation. After the death of Kaiya’s mother two years earlier, he’d declined rapidly.
As the Tianzi’s gaze brushed over them, his burdens seemed to melt away. He nodded at each, his eyes speaking of fatherly admiration. His voice wheezed. “My daughters, it looks like it will be a beautiful evening with both Renyue and Guanyin’s Eye looming large in the sky tonight. I would be pleased if you would join me in the Danhua Room for dinner, so I can enjoy myself before next week’s council meeting.”
It wasn’t a request, and Kaiya and the others bowed again in acquiescence. As senior, Xiulan answered for everyone. “We would be honored to join you, Father.”
“Rise.” The Tianzi motioned toward the horseman, who shifted from a kneel to a one-knee, one-fist salute. “This is Captain Zheng Ming, the heir to Dongmen Province. He is visiting the capital from the northern border to defend his archery title at the New Year’s Tournament. Rise, Young Lord Zheng.”
Zheng. Zheng Ming was the eldest brother of her childhood playmate, Tian. They had met once, ten years before, while she and Tian practiced swordsmanship together.