by Julie C. Dao
Jade held her breath, her eyes moving from the map to Amah’s face.
“It’s well you’ve been listening to me,” the old woman said. “The power of storytelling lies in the passing on of messages, histories, and secrets. Empress Lihua and I worked on this cloak for you before she was even pregnant with you. She knew you would come. She knew you would face a challenge of this magnitude, as the tengaru had long foretold you would.”
My mortal enemy, Xifeng had said. The one whose destiny is entwined with mine.
“The tengaru?” Jade repeated. “The horned horse-demon guardians of the forest?”
“They left the earth in the face of darkness, but I am certain another spirit watches over the woodlands.” Amah’s face was as grave as Jade had ever seen it. “Xifeng has clearly made a decision: you are a threat to her, and she will kill you if you stay. Empress Lihua often went to the tengaru clearing to seek counsel in times of trouble, and you must do the same. Nothing can be gained by confronting Xifeng now. You must first arm yourself with answers.”
Wren’s nostrils flared. “We’re leaving the palace, then.”
Amah touched her granddaughter’s knee tenderly. “I’m glad to hear you say we, my dear, for you’ve anticipated my wish. Your help is needed.” She gestured to the map. “The brocade we used to make this cloak has been passed down in your family for generations, Jade, and may have even belonged to the Dragon King himself, greatest of the gods. Xifeng may use blood, pain, and death to work spells for her own benefit, but there is also good magic . . . protective magic. Carry this cloak and it will tell you what you need to know: where to go, what to find, whether enemies are following you. This is your mother’s command.”
“Then I am to go on a journey?” Jade ran her hand over the Great Forest, imagining her mother and Amah bending over these neat stitches, needles working tirelessly, lovingly, for her.
“The map will tell you all when it’s time.” Amah tapped a small body of water stitched in cerulean thread, tucked south of the Imperial Palace. “This is the pond the tengaru called the Good Queen’s Lake in honor of Empress Lihua. Their sanctuary is not easily found. You will need to navigate through the Great Forest in search of it.”
“We’ll have the map,” Wren said confidently, her muscles tense with excitement. “And I’ll bring the biggest blades I can steal. It’s lucky one of us knows how to protect herself.”
“If that was a jab meant for me,” her grandmother said drily, “I accept it as my due.”
“And you, Amah?” Jade asked.
The nursemaid hesitated. “If it is my fate to go with you, then I will.”
But the thought of leaving Emperor Jun to his wife’s mercy soured Jade’s new zeal. “We should stay for the birthday banquet, at least,” she said, biting her lip. “It would raise too many alarms if we didn’t, and I’d like to speak to my father once more before I go. But I don’t know how we’ll manage to leave when Xifeng is having me watched like a hawk.”
“The banquet may actually be your best chance to escape,” Amah said. “There will be crowds and music . . . plenty of distraction for Xifeng. It might be easier to slip away then.”
Wren clapped a head to her forehead. “That reminds me. Do you remember that nervous eunuch who returned the notes you wrote your father?”
“His name is Pei,” Jade said, startled. “Lady Tran told me she and Ambassador Shiro have known him for years and that he’s one of my father’s most loyal servants.”
A satisfied smile crossed Wren’s lips. “He delivered a message from the Emperor while you were at dinner. Your father, too, wishes you to trust Pei. I am to give any notes from you to him, or to Lady Tran to give to him, and they’ll see that the message gets to His Majesty, if only by mouth. Maybe they could even devise some distraction at the banquet and help us escape.”
Jade released a breath. Her father cared about her—ill and exhausted as he was, he cared enough to want to help her. “We leave the palace on the night of the banquet,” she said decisively. “I can slip from the room with some excuse and meet the two of you. It won’t buy us all the time we need, but I’d rather have a head start before I have my heart cut out.”
Amah hissed through her teeth. “Don’t even joke about it.”
“We’ll need food, weapons, servants’ clothes, and horses, too,” Wren said, furrowing her brow. “We can’t go dressed as we are. I can steal supplies and hide them in one of the underground tunnels. And we’ll have to find some route other than going through the Imperial City.” She snapped her fingers. “We’ll go across the river. It’s a more direct path into the forest.”
Jade reached for Amah’s hand. “In two nights,” she said, “we vanish before the Empress makes us disappear.”
On the night of the banquet, a retinue of eunuchs and attendants came to escort Jade to the main palace. The city of women looked splendid, with ornate bronze lanterns floating artfully in basins of rose-scented water and festoons of bright silk on the railings, but all Jade could think of was Xifeng’s lair and the pool filled with her victims’ bodies. Their families would never see them again, and here the Empress was throwing a celebration as though nothing was wrong.
Jade felt sick to her stomach, knowing escape would endanger everyone helping her: Amah, Wren, Pei, and Lady Tran. As they passed the statues of the Dragon Guard, the army of the gods, she wished the heavenly warriors would come to life and put a stop to Xifeng then and there.
In the palace, maids hurried forth to collect their wraps. Jade smoothed her jacket and skirt of deep blue-gray silk, which fluttered around her like ocean waves. Amah and Wren had dressed her, and it would be difficult for anyone who didn’t know to tell that she wore plain, undyed cotton clothing underneath.
Xifeng waited outside the banquet hall. The woman Jade had seen in the lair, with her fury and terror, was nowhere to be found. There was only the Empress of Feng Lu, magnificent in red-and-gold silk with chrysanthemums in her hair and the usual mask of benevolence on her face. The difference now was that Jade could see beneath the mask’s edges—she had observed the monster underneath and learned the depths of its ferocity and desperation. Those hands had held human hearts; those lips had tasted hot blood. Jade wanted to run, to tear out of this palace of pain and depravity, and yet her feet continued on until they stood face-to-face.
“Here’s the guest of honor, and how sweet she looks,” Empress Xifeng said in her merry voice. Her eyes darted to Jade’s hair, but she made no comment.
Wren had not destroyed the poisoned comb, but had hidden it with their other belongings in the tunnels, in preparation for their escape. None of them had spoken of it again, though Jade noticed both Wren and Amah watching her when they thought she wasn’t looking. They needn’t have worried, for her longing to use the comb had faded, except at night when she tossed and turned and wondered when her enemy would come to end her.
Jade bowed to that enemy now. “You are the definition of loveliness, Your Majesty,” she said, pressing her hands against her sides to hide their shaking. The woman was a demon in human form, a beast wearing a cloak of beauty, and behind that smile she plotted Jade’s death.
“You’re looking peaked, darling,” Xifeng said. “Haven’t you been sleeping well?”
“I have, thank you.” Jade forced her lips to curve upward.
“No nightmares, I hope?”
She knows. It took every ounce of Jade’s willpower to keep her expression neutral at the sly lilt in her voice. Somehow she knows I was there. “No nightmares, Your Majesty.”
But Xifeng must have sensed something on Jade’s face or in her voice, because her smile widened. “Good. Come now, we musn’t keep the Emperor waiting,” she said, holding out her hand for Jade’s. “How cold your fingers are, little one.”
Soft, warm light lit the banquet hall as the court bowed to Xifeng, who dispersed dazzling smi
les and greetings in a low, charming voice as she led Jade past tables piled high with sumptuous food. The delicious smells only made Jade’s stomach churn. Who will be her next victim after me? Who will join the others in the pool of corpses?
Jade caught Lady Tran’s eye, and they inclined their heads in greeting. No one could know the escape they had planned from that one interaction, but still, Jade’s hands grew clammy.
Emperor Jun sat on a throne with thick bamboo beams so that servants could lift and carry him. Someone had dusted him with powder and salve to brighten his skin and make his cheeks pink, but instead of improving him, it only emphasized his pallor. His tired red eyes found Jade and did not leave her as Xifeng turned to address the court.
“Welcome to this banquet in honor of Her Imperial Highness’s eighteenth birthday. We all wish her health and happiness.” The Empress pivoted to Jade, alight with pride and joy. “His Majesty and I are overjoyed to have you with us, dear. Let us dine in your honor.”
She clapped her hands, and servants swept in with platters, pitchers, and trays of fruit. She took a seat at Emperor Jun’s right hand, leaving the other side to Jade. The Imperial cook appeared with an immense roast pheasant smelling of garlic, ginger, and winter herbs.
“Serve our guest of honor first,” Xifeng commanded. “She comes before me tonight. Go on, my child, there’s no need to wait. Take what’s rightfully yours.”
If the words held a double meaning, her stepmother’s expression showed no sign. The pheasant meat smelled sweet, as did the vibrant greens. Still, Jade hesitated. “Your Majesty is most generous. But I would prefer not to eat until you have been served as well.”
“There is no need for such formality,” Xifeng said softly.
Jade pressed her lips together, aware that everyone was waiting for her to take the first bite so they could dine. But something in Xifeng’s manner made her feel certain she should not eat the food before her. Someone who tore hearts from victims’ bodies would not hesitate to kill the princess before all the court. She picked up her ivory chopsticks, her mind racing for excuses.
Emperor Jun suddenly cleared his throat. “She needs to have it tasted first.”
The room went silent.
“The food was tasted beforehand, as it always is,” Xifeng told her husband.
“Then have it tasted again. These people are hungry.” Emperor Jun lifted his fingers in a feeble display of impatience. “We can never take too many precautions for the Crown Princess.”
Jade released the breath she held, and her father’s cracked lips lifted slightly. I too can be defiant, he seemed to say. Xifeng must have decided against drugging him before this public appearance, for there was such unusual clarity in his gaze that Jade found herself imagining—just for a brief moment—what it might be like if she and he were different people, if she were nothing more than a beloved daughter to this man.
Though the Emperor had spoken, the servants all remained motionless, waiting for Xifeng’s command. “Of course, if you wish it,” the Empress said carelessly, waving a hand at one of the eunuchs. He hurried forth to taste from Jade’s plate, then retreated, and the tension dissipated. The room filled with conversation as the courtiers began to dine.
The knot in Jade’s stomach, however, remained. She took a small bite as soft pipa music began to play, feeling relieved when a nobleman in black silk approached to speak to Xifeng.
A eunuch came forth to cut the Emperor’s meat into small pieces. “It is chilly on the other side of the stars,” he said, very low, and Jade looked up to see Pei. He avoided eye contact with her, but she understood his words—Wren and Amah were safe and ready for departure. Her father had been the one to suggest coding the messages they delivered through Wren.
“Winter lays its frosted veil on the water,” the Emperor agreed.
Jade’s heart picked up. All the pieces of the plan had been set into motion.
Then, so quietly that only his daughter could hear it, Emperor Jun said, “Your mother was a good woman. I didn’t deserve her or do right by her.”
Xifeng was engrossed in her conversation, but still Jade did not look at her father as he spoke. She knew Kang would be watching.
“I’ve done so many things wrong,” Emperor Jun whispered. “But now I am doing one thing right. I will, at last, make amends to Lihua.”
His words brought unshed tears to Jade’s eyes. She had spent so many years resenting and hating the father who had discarded her, but she knew this act of penance might at last lead to forgiveness. She wished she could tell him, but Xifeng turned to them. In the same moment, Jade saw Lady Tran excuse herself to her companions and leave the room.
“Jade, dear,” the Empress said, gesturing to the man in black silk, “may I introduce you to Lord Tanaka? This is the talented young man of whom we spoke.”
Tanaka. The Kamatsu nobleman Xifeng hoped to use as a puppet against the regent. He appeared to be in his midtwenties, with a distinguished air and elegantly cut clothing, and his features were what Jade would expect of someone loyal to Xifeng: cold and hard. He bowed low to Jade, and she inclined her head stiffly in return.
“I’ve invited Lord Tanaka to join us. Perhaps there is room beside you?” Xifeng asked.
“It would be my honor,” Jade said. “But I hope Lord Tanaka will not be offended, for I must go. You see, I too have a gift for my parents.”
Xifeng tipped her head. “For us?”
“Your generosity has so touched me that I wished to return a token of my esteem.” Jade rose, pulse thundering in her ears. “Some of Your Majesty’s ladies have kindly helped me with the surprise. With your permission?” She made sure to look at the Empress, not her father.
“How can I say no? I love gifts,” Xifeng said with a broad smile. “By all means, go.”
Jade bowed, feeling many eyes on her as she went out into the crowded corridor. A troupe of Dagovadian acrobats practiced flips in one corner under the guards’ suspicious observation, while five women warmed up their voices to a musician tuning his lute. Jade passed a group of eunuchs in theatrical dress before she reached the end of the hall. There, several noblewomen, including Lady Tran and her daughters, stood behind a large folding screen, swapping their silks and satins for pale undyed cotton—exactly what Jade wore under her own clothing.
“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Lady Tran asked, her voice light though her eyes were full of meaning. “We will be the first to perform.”
“I’m ready.”
“Your Highness, it’s kind of you to join us,” a younger noblewoman said. “My mother looked askance at the idea of me dancing, but she approved as soon as she heard you would too.”
“You told your mother? It was to be a surprise!” her friend scolded her.
Jade removed her clothing as the girls argued. Secrets weren’t kept long from Xifeng, not when shared with flighty court ladies. But Pei and Lady Tran had planned for that when suggesting that the nobles dance for Their Majesties—the Empress would expect to see Jade among the performers. What she wouldn’t expect, Jade prayed, was what would come afterward.
Each dancer received a handful of long, thick scarves of floaty deep gold silk, with which they wrapped their heads, faces, and bodies. When they were finished, Jade knew no one would be able to pick her out from the other dozen women wearing the same outfit. She met Lady Tran’s eyes as they all hurried back down the hall and a eunuch announced their arrival.
“Your Imperial Majesties, may I present the noble ladies of the court and Her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess, in a special performance to wish you health and happiness!”
Lutes and pipas began playing over the courtiers’ murmuring as the dancers ran inside. At the high table, Xifeng and the Emperor watched with Kang and Lord Tanaka, but none of them showed any sign of recognizing Jade.
Jade followed the others in the simpl
e dance she had learned over the past two days. They each spun in a circle to the beat of the pipa, then joined hands in smaller circles as the lutes’ melody sped up. They twirled, their scarves floating in a golden spiral, and the courtiers cheered with approval. Every few steps ended in a low bow to Xifeng, who beamed at the flattery.
Yes, bask in the worship you think you deserve, Jade thought as the music played faster. The dead would not forget, and neither would she. Enjoy your numbered days.
The women gathered in a large circle, each spinning to the music, and then one by one they danced lightly out of the room as the music came to an end. The courtiers roared their approval, and at the head table, a beaming Xifeng rose to applaud with Kang by her side. Jade glanced at Emperor Jun, but did not dare linger as she left the room with the others.
It was the only goodbye she had time for.
Outside, Jade lowered her scarf and a hand took her elbow. “Keep moving and do not look at me,” Pei murmured, steering her into a dark sitting room off the corridor. Behind them, Lady Tran loudly corralled the other dancers, distracting them from Jade’s absence.
Pei pushed a wall open, revealing a secret passage. “Kang isn’t the only one who knows the hiding places of the palace,” he said with a brief smile. “Amah and Wren are waiting for you behind the terrace. The river is frozen, and you and the horses must cross as fast as you can.”
“Will it hold our weight?” Jade asked, breathless as they descended a stone stairway.
“It likely will, but it may be safer to go on foot and lead the animals. Shiro will meet you on the other side, and I will linger behind to ensure you aren’t troubled.” Pei lifted a fold of his tunic, showing her a bronze-sheathed sword.
“Pei, I know you’re risking your life and I . . .”
He waved away her thanks. “I am loyal to His Imperial Majesty and Empress Lihua, our true queen. To serve their daughter is a privilege. Do you have sturdy shoes on?” She nodded, glancing at the plain, hardy servant’s boots Wren had stolen for her. “Good. We need to run.”