by Julie C. Dao
“And her stories, too.”
Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “Our ancestors believed in testing leaders and determining their worth. In the old days, you could not call yourself a ruler of mankind simply by lusting for power and seizing what you had not earned.”
Jade bowed her head. “I never wanted the throne. To me, it is a symbol of greed, a means by which one controls the lives of thousands and calls it power. Yet there is such pain and suffering, and it’s my duty to reclaim what is ours. I’ve shirked my responsibilities long enough. But even if I succeed, how can I heal Feng Lu? What can I do to fix such brokenness?”
“Leaders rarely succeed without help, and you will have that,” Empress Lihua told her. “Recall that I gave you only one version of the tale of the thousand lanterns. I knew that someone who will come to mean much to you would have the other. Working together in this way will prove essential.”
“Essential?”
“For the quest to dethrone Xifeng.” The former Empress closed her eyes. “Like Shiro, I knew her when she was a girl and never imagined she would come to this. She has poisoned the empire, and the people are turning against one another, hungry, desperate. This must and will end.”
It was all almost too much to bear. “She was right, then—our destinies are entwined, hers and mine. And one of us must destroy the other.”
“She sees what she sees in her fear and paranoia. We see only what needs to be done,” her mother said sternly. “You know the legend of the relics. The one who unites all five will bring peace back to Feng Lu by summoning a powerful heavenly army to their aid.”
“The Dragon Guard,” Jade breathed. “The warriors of the gods.”
Empress Lihua inclined her head. “They are your only hope against Xifeng, the Serpent God, and their snake army, but you must first prove your worth by finding the treasures. Winning the Dragon Guard’s allegiance will not only rid Feng Lu of Xifeng’s evil, but prove to all beyond a doubt that you are the true and worthy heir.”
Somehow, here by this tree carved with Amah’s stories, her mother’s words did not sound ridiculous, but right. “And these tales will help me find the relics?” Jade asked, her pulse picking up as she studied the pale gray bark. “Each relates to a different kingdom and will take me to that treasure. And I will bring them all here, back to the apple tree of the Dragon King?”
“The cloak, too, will guide you, but do not linger. Danger lies behind and ahead, and one of the treasures will be the difference between your life and your death.”
Jade walked around the trunk, gazing up into the branches. “The Dragon King’s relic must lie elsewhere,” she said thoughtfully. “There are no apples here. This tree bears no fruit.”
“Still, every inch of this tree is filled with my love for you,” Empress Lihua said. “Time is running out, my child. Xifeng’s huntsman will not rest until he brings her your heart in a box.”
“Xifeng’s poisoned comb allowed me to hear her plans,” Jade told her. “Amah thought it was because it had once belonged to you.” As she spoke, she pictured the gleaming silver teeth, sharp and full of answers, and felt a tug of longing.
“She might not have intended that effect when she gave you the comb, but if she finds out, she might want you to use it again. Be wary of magic that pertains to Xifeng, for a weapon against her could easily turn into one against you.” She looked tenderly into Jade’s eyes. “I know the doubts inside your heart, but destiny is not something from which you can hide. It follows you like your own shadow, and you must turn and acknowledge it.”
“Will I find the courage to face it?” Jade whispered.
“You are a daughter of dragons, and courage runs through you like breath and blood,” the former Empress said fiercely. “But you must never underestimate your gentle heart. Love and laugh with all the life in you, my cherished Jade, and you will conquer the darkness. If you are ever afraid, if you ever doubt yourself, look around you and there I will be.”
Jade took in her mother’s face, memorizing by heart the love and pride she saw there. The older woman’s eyes glistened with tears, and her mouth trembled with powerful emotion, and this time, when she lifted her hand to Jade’s cheek, her fingers made contact with Jade’s skin.
“How strange,” she said. “My spirit has never taken corporeal form on earth before.”
Jade held Empress Lihua’s hand tightly in both of hers. “I love you, Mother.”
“I love you,” Lihua murmured, “more than all the stars in the sky. And I believe in you.”
And as her mother spoke, Jade believed for the first time. Her resolve was still only a timid, tender bud, but had blossomed nonetheless. Unlike Xifeng, she would not allow her destiny to master her. She would confront it, accept it, and choose it on her own terms. And if she could make it right, if she could become the leader Feng Lu needed, she would fulfill everything her mother and Amah had hoped for. Their deaths would not be in vain. She would find her courage and hold Amah’s stories in her heart like a lantern against the dark.
Jade released the older woman’s hand and bowed low before her mother and Empress.
When she glanced up, Lihua was gone and she stood alone once more by the apple tree.
We’re going with you on this quest, of course,” Koichi said. He had found a dry spot near the pond and was busy making Shiro comfortable by tucking their cloak around him.
Wren, meanwhile, dangled upside down in a tree, gripping the branch with her legs. Every few seconds, she raised her upper body without using her arms. “Accompanying you goes without saying,” she panted, her cheeks bright red. “Empress Lihua said a leader should accept help, and Koichi has to go because he knows more about these children’s stories than anyone—”
Koichi scowled. “Why do you say children’s stories with such disdain?”
Wren ignored him. “And I have to go because I’m your handmaiden and an ardent supporter of killing both Xifeng and Kang. Shiro can keep us all in line.”
“I will not go,” Shiro interjected, “and Koichi shouldn’t, either. This one evening of excitement has nearly done me in.” The shadows beneath his eyes and the silver in his hair looked more pronounced in the moonlight. “Wren and the princess must travel undetected, and two dwarfs will stand out. Unless you masquerade as a child—”
“I certainly will not!” Koichi said, outraged, until Shiro chuckled. “You see now, Your Highness, where I get my humor.”
Jade laughed with them, but her heart ached for Amah as she watched Koichi tuck the cloak around Shiro to keep the older man warm.
“Father,” Koichi said, serious now, “I must go with the princess. You heard what she said: the stories are integral to summoning the Dragon Guard. Whether you believe it or not, I do. After that bridge saved us tonight, there is nothing I won’t believe anymore.”
“I don’t ask for your assistance,” Jade said gratefully. “But I’d be glad to have it.”
“You see? My help is needed.” Koichi looked pleadingly at Shiro. “You know I want to travel. I’m not meant to sit at home, especially not when Feng Lu depends on this mission and I can help in some way. I mean no disrespect, but I’ll go with or without your blessing.”
“You are all I have left, Koichi,” Shiro said, his voice breaking.
“I’m a grown man.” Koichi touched his father’s cheek tenderly. “I’ve begged for years to journey across the continent and over the sea as you once did. It’s best for you to stay here in the peace and solitude you’ve earned. But that’s no life for me—you must see that.”
Jade turned away, pained by Shiro’s sorrow. The prospect of a journey with Wren and Koichi, however dangerous, had excited her. Selfishly, she hadn’t considered at once that their lives would be in danger, too. As the Empress’s huntsman, Kang would chase Jade to the end of the world. And if he cut out her heart, he would not spare her co
mpanions.
“This is a task I must do,” she said. “But it is my responsibility alone. I cannot in good faith ask any of you to risk your lives for me.”
Wren swung down from the tree. “Well, then, it’s a good thing we offered and you didn’t ask,” she said, in a tart voice very like Amah’s. “I will not rest until Kang and Xifeng face the consequences for my grandmother’s death.”
“And I will not rest until I see justice done for my cousin Hana’s death,” Koichi added.
Shiro shook his head in defeat. “Stubborn like your mother. I could never argue with her, either. Please don’t misunderstand, Your Highness,” he said to Jade, “and think that I don’t support you and what you must do. I’m only a foolish father.”
“You are the best of fathers,” she said gently.
Koichi clapped his hands together. “That’s settled, then. We’ll need to go in disguise, of course. I’ll be a silk merchant of Kamatsu who has sold all of his goods and is exploring the continent before returning home, accompanied by my wife and our servant.”
Jade blushed, but Koichi’s twinkling eyes landed on Wren.
“You can be my worshipful wife,” he told her.
Shiro burst out laughing at the young woman’s aghast expression. Jade joined in, though she felt a pang as Koichi craned his neck up at Wren in mock adoration.
“I have never, nor will I ever, wish to be anyone’s wife and I do not plan to start now, even if it’s just pretend,” Wren protested, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “Why don’t you be Jade’s handsome husband and let me be happy on my own?”
“Because, my dear,” Koichi said, getting into the spirit of things, “it’s safer for you to travel as a married woman. And Kang and Xifeng will be searching for a princess, not a servant girl, so that is the perfect disguise for Her Highness.”
“Well, that’s decided, then.” Jade turned her back on them and crouched by Amah’s map, feeling a bit hurt that he had chosen to “marry” Wren so quickly.
“Well, I will say it was a clever idea to share a horse and cloak tonight,” Shiro told his son. “Xifeng won’t be searching for a small man at any rate.” He sighed, pulled the cloak to his chin, and promptly fell asleep.
Wren went off in search of berries, and Koichi knelt beside Jade as she studied the brocade cloak. “Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“Jade, please. And I’m tired.” She gave him a half smile, which he returned at once. She had never known anyone to smile so readily or with such genuine contentment. She tapped the expanse of green thread representing the Sacred Grasslands. “The map changed again.”
Koichi inspected the large embroidered crane that had appeared, its neck arched to the sky, ripples surrounding the foot that touched water. “I know that folktale well,” he said. “It was in the same book as the thousand lanterns story.”
“How did it go? Perhaps it too is different from the version Amah told me.”
“Once upon a time, a farmer found an injured crane by a lake. He took it home to care for it and saved its life, then set it free without expecting a reward. But the next day, he met a lovely woman lost in the rain.” He winked at her. “They fell in love, of course, and married. His wife turned out to be a talented weaver, stitching feather cloaks that fetched a great sum, and made the farmer a wealthy man. But she warned him, ‘You must never spy on me when I am working, lest you disturb me.’ This aroused his suspicions.”
“You tell the story as well as Amah did. What happened next?”
“The farmer broke his promise, naturally. He spied one day and saw not his wife weaving, but the crane whose life he had saved, crafting cloaks from its own feathers. When it saw him, it left him forever to spend the rest of his days alone, regretting his broken vow.” Koichi raised his eyebrows at her. “Was Amah’s version any different?”
“It’s the same, except the crane was one of twelve sisters,” Jade said. “Sky-maidens, sent from the heavens to reward human goodness. Each had a cloak made of her own feathers that let her shape-shift between woman and crane. Their feathers bestowed magic when given freely, but if taken forcibly from them, they couldn’t return home to the skies. That’s how Amah’s story ended. The farmer refused to relinquish his wife’s cloak, so she was trapped on earth as a crane.”
Koichi looked at her intently. She had never seen such long, thick lashes on anyone. “Then a crane feather is the relic of the Sacred Grasslands? It’s an odd choice for a god, isn’t it?”
“That god prided himself on his shape-shifting ability and was also said to be bashful. It makes sense that a method of disguise may have appealed to him. This is the knowledge that comes of being raised by monks,” Jade explained, grinning at his surprise. She ran her hand over the embroidered crane. “The map indicates that our destination is Red Lotus Lake.”
Koichi furrowed his brow. “Your mother said the stories were important to the quest. Perhaps we’ll need to use what we know about the tale and the god to find the crane feather.”
She nodded. “Or the lesson of the tale.”
He crossed his arms and cupped his chin with one hand in an uncanny imitation of Shiro. “What do you think is the lesson, then?”
Jade giggled at the gravelly voice that should have come from the sleeping ambassador, but instead emerged from his merry-eyed son. “To keep your promises, of course.”
“I think you’re right, Your Highness.”
“Jade,” she reminded him.
“Jade.”
Her cheeks warmed at the sound of her name on his smiling lips, and she felt both annoyed and grateful when Wren returned at that moment. They told her what they had discussed while they ate the berries and roots she had brought back.
“It seems to make sense, but perhaps we should ask the dragon?” she suggested.
“It can’t speak,” Koichi pointed out.
“But it can understand us and nod, can’t it?” Wren glanced at Jade. “Where is the dragon, anyway? Did you leave it by the apple tree?”
“It didn’t come in with me,” Jade said, but when she peered across the pond, the dragon had curved around the apple tree and closed its eyes in slumber. Right where I left Mother, she thought, noticing again how its long body rippled in the same colors as Lihua’s silks.
Look around you, her mother had said, and there I will be.
“There’s nothing I won’t believe anymore,” she murmured, echoing Koichi’s words as they all settled down for the night.
But after Koichi lay down near his father, Wren sat up with one of their sacks. “I’m not tired yet,” she told Jade. “If we’re to travel across the continent in search of these . . . magical things, I thought I’d take inventory of what we have to sell for money.”
Jade watched, stunned, as Wren pulled out a pile of riches: a silver hairbrush, a tiny hand mirror, three gold rings, a brooch, and a bundle of handkerchiefs of bright yellow silk.
Wren grinned. “I stole most of these from Xifeng when you were all at the banquet, but some came from my grandmother. She was keeping them for you in her wooden trunk. Unless you’re attached to them . . .”
“We can sell them,” Jade said. Her breath caught when the box containing the poisoned comb slipped out. “We’ll keep that, of course. Just in case.”
Wren grimaced, but replaced it in the sack with the other items. “Do you think we can do all this?” she asked, waving her hand at Amah’s map. “I’m out of my depth. I can’t read or write well, and I know nothing about stories.”
“It’s all strange to me, too, but my mother wouldn’t have given me this task if it wasn’t important.” Jade hugged her knees to her chest. “Maybe Xifeng wasn’t always a monster. Maybe she was like us once, scared and hopeful. But we can’t let her go on the way she has. And if I die trying to defend my family’s honor and Feng Lu, then it’s as the gods will it.”
They sat in a thoughtful silence for a moment.
“I hated you, you know,” Wren said suddenly. She smirked when Jade turned to her. “I blamed you for stealing my grandmother, and for my brother’s death because he died on your brother’s mission. You were easy to blame when I didn’t know you.” She regarded Jade with her head to one side. “I thought you’d be spoiled and selfish, but you surprised me. You’re nothing like a princess. You’re respectful and talk to me like I’m your equal . . .”
“And so you are.”
Wren pointed at herself. “I’m a kitchen wench, and you’re the Emperor’s daughter, the heir to the empire. Explain how we are equal, Your Highness.”
“That’s what frustrates me,” Jade said. “I’m beginning to understand why Amah and Abbess Lin kept my identity a secret, so people wouldn’t treat me any differently. You being you and me being me is nothing more than an accident of birth. I’m just a person. I like steamed bean buns and rainy mornings and walking on grass in my bare feet . . . Why are you laughing?”
“I like all those things too.”
“Also,” Jade added, “if we’re to travel together, you ought not to call me Your Highness. In fact, I’d prefer it.”
“All right, then.” Wren let out a loud sigh. “But I still don’t like these disguises. Why can’t I be a maidservant, too? It would be closer to the truth. We could both be working for the pampered princeling.”
Koichi gave a loud snort and rolled over in his sleep, as though he had heard her.
“It would be suspicious for a man to travel with two female servants. And anyway, Koichi wanted to marry you, not me,” Jade replied, and although she was careful to keep her voice light, she felt Wren’s eyes on her. To distract her, Jade tugged the pins from her hair, feeling its warm weight cascade down her back. “Here, add these ornaments to the items we can sell . . . They should fetch a good price. And would you mind cutting my hair?”