by CK Dawn
Leaving me here, on my way to a possible death sentence. The palanquin walls seemed to close in around me. Memories of being locked in an armoire sent my pulse skittering. I took a deep breath of the hot, stuffy air in hopes it would calm me. I should be grateful for the privacy. Now hidden from prying eyes, salty-hot tears trickled unchecked down my cheeks.
An eternity in the bobbing coffin dragged on until the procession finally ground to a halt. I dried the tears with my sleeve. My eyelids felt heavy and swollen. Herald calls and the swoosh of opening gates indicated our arrival at Sun-Moon Palace.
“Your Highness,” Chen Xin said from outside, reassuring me with a familiar voice. “We have passed the front gates of Sun-Moon Palace. Would you like to alight?”
The guards and servants knew my habits well, predicting I would want to walk the rest of the way to the castle. Not tonight. The iridescent moon neared full, ready to shine light on my shame. My voice caught and I cleared my throat. “Take me to the Jade Gate. Take your time.”
I shuddered, worried my cracking voice had revealed weakness. Nonetheless, the ride from the palace’s main gate to the Imperial Family’s residence would afford me just enough time to regain my composure. If I were to present myself before Father, I would hold my head high when accepting his judgment.
To calm myself, I envisioned my ride as a walk. Past the Hall of Supreme Harmony. To the Dragon Bridge between the palace grounds and the castle. Through the winding alleys of the inner castle compound.
The palanquin came to a gentle stop, and the porters lowered it to the ground. The doors slid open and a hand, smooth as phoenix feathers, took mine to help me out.
My legs quavered. The imperial guards by the gatehouse dropped to one knee, fist to the ground.
Doctor Wu released my hand.
The palace chamberlain shuffled forward and bowed. “Your Highness. The Emperor summons you to his quarters immediately.”
I nodded. I forced myself to achieve a semblance of grace as I crossed the covered stone bridge from the keep to the Imperial Family’s walled-off, hilltop residence. Moonlight sparkled off the gold leaf of the one-story pavilion’s tiled eaves. Surrounded by moats, the building was further protected from magical intrusion by an ancient ward.
My personal retinue of handmaidens and guards stopped and knelt as I approached the gatehouse connecting the family’s restricted bedrooms to the rest of the residence. There, eight imperial guard sentries stepped aside while the gatekeeper—an old nun from Praise Spring Temple—held up a light bauble lamp to my face.
The woman spoke in the Imperial Family’s secret language, her voice hoarse as she asked one of the hundreds of questions needed to validate my identity. “What land did the Founder and his consort come from?”
“Great Peace Island,” I answered, using the secret language’s name for Jade Island.
“How many patron saints watch over Cathay from Jade Island?”
“Eight,” I said, “though some include The Dwarf as the Ninth.”
“What are their names?”
“The Water Saint, The Metal Saint, The World Saint, The Fire Saint, The Wood Saint, The Earth Saint, The Heavenly King, and The Sea King. The Dwarf is King of the Underworld.”
Without looking back, the gatekeeper rapped a code—changed hourly—on the heavy ironwood doors. They slid open, revealing the shaved pates of nine bowing nuns, armed only with the empty-handed Yongchun fighting style.
The Founder had established these security protocols, after having barely survived his most trusted vassal’s surprise attack, just before he came to post-Hellstorm Cathay. In his time, the nuns had used daggers. Later, his consort taught them her own unarmed combat skills.
I walked to the Emperor’s quarters, surrounded by an escort of nuns and with Doctor Wu one step behind.
My brothers and Xiulan, all kneeling on cushions, turned their heads toward me as I stepped into the bedroom antechamber. From where he sat on a cushioned bloodwood chair, Father fixed me with a severe gaze.
Belly tight, I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the ground.
“Rise,” Father said.
Straightening, I looked up to focus on something else. The ceiling was coffered, with jade insets carved to depict scenes from the Wang Dynasty’s glorious history. Lacquered wooden panels with mother-of-pearl inlay adorned the red walls. Lanterns with bloodwood frames around paper-thin white jade and dangling red silk tassels hung from the ceiling, providing a soft light from the Aksumi baubles.
His dignified tone remained the same as if addressing dinner plans or a devastating flood. “I am told that you left the palace without permission, unprotected, and went to the Temple of Heaven.”
I bowed my head. There was no point in denying what everyone knew. However, beyond that, I had to protect Hardeep, Kai-Long, and all the servants, even if it meant bending the truth. “Yes. Please, I acted on my own accord. I tricked the servants and imperial guards. I was selfish and foolish.”
His eyes narrowed for a split second. “Did you enter the stupa?”
I shook my head.
He let out a long breath, so uncharacteristic of him, and then looked from Eldest Brother to Second Brother. “It seemed everyone in the city was drawn to the unique song emanating from the Temple of Heaven, like moths to a light bauble. With your ear for music and perceptive hearing, you must have gone first. Yes, you are undoubtedly the victim of evil magic. Luckily, you did not enter the grounds.”
I tilted my head a fraction. He was fabricating an excuse to protect me, glossing over the fact that I did enter the compound. But apparently, no one considered that I could have created that music. And as much as I should have told the whole truth, including the attacks on myself and Hardeep, it would risk too many people.
“Doctor,” Father said, “perhaps with your broad understanding of the world, you could tell us what kind of instrument makes that sound?”
“I am not entirely sure.” The doctor shifted on her feet, lips pursed. “Magic and music are Lord Xu’s expertise.”
Father turned back to me. “Now, I have heard some disturbing news about your actions from earlier in the day.”
From earlier in the day? Was the issue with the Temple of Heaven resolved so easily? Something was wrong. “Yes.” I pressed my forehead to the dark wood tiles. “I—”
Doctor Wu held up a silencing hand. “If I may, Your Exaltedness, I have more pressing news. Good news.”
More pressing than me directly disobeying his order and nearly damaging a priceless artifact? More important than the capital offense of breaking into the Temple of Heaven, even if Father glossed over it? I fidgeted on my knees.
Father’s eyes shifted from me to the doctor. “Speak.”
“I have felt the princess’ pulse and examined her tongue. She is about to blossom with Heaven’s Dew. I would guess in a few days, on the new white moon.”
Heat rose to my head as I sucked in a breath. Such a private consideration, at least for most girls, was now dragged out for my brothers to hear. Not that they wouldn’t know soon, anyway. They’d likely been privy to this particular topic of speculation among the servants—and through their loose lips, among the hereditary lords and ministers as well. Curse my good ears for overhearing the furtive whispers.
Xiulan leaned past Eldest Brother Kai-Guo and winked. As usual, Kai-Wu showed little interest in state affairs, which apparently included my soon-to-start monthly rhythms.
At least it was finally coming. Most of the palace girls my age had already taken that step into womanhood. Even my spunky cousin Lin Ziqiu, two years younger, had already started. I dared a quick glance up.
A rare smile flitted across Father’s face before his expressionless demeanor returned. “This is most welcome news. A marriage might help pacify Lord Tong’s rebellion in the North.”
I twirled a lock of hair. Just this morning, the North had been merely unsettled. Now it was a rebellion? And if what Doctor Wu said w
as true—and she was never wrong in matters of health—I would be eligible to marry in less than a week.
“Yes, this is fortuitous,” Father continued. “Especially with Kai-Wu’s wedding so close. I hope to see grandchildren before I join your mother, and the realm will certainly be reassured by the birth of heirs to the Mandate of Heaven.” He looked to Kai-Guo and Xiulan.
Xiulan averted her gaze while Kai-Guo fidgeted. A year into the marriage and the Crown Princess’ private considerations were under even more public scrutiny than mine. And with their quarters right next door, I knew their lack of success had little to do with a lack of trying.
I bit my bottom lip. I might be jealous of Xiulan’s peerless handwriting, perfect posture, impeccable manners, pearly complexion, doe eyes, and hair where no strand ever fell out of place; but I didn’t envy the pressure to conceive an heir. My own future sons would be far down the line, after my brothers’ sons, after Father’s younger brother and his sons. Poor Xiulan withered under Father’s stare.
Clearing my throat, I pressed my forehead to the floor. “Father, I apologize for the trouble and embarrassment I have caused. I should not have accompanied Prince Hardeep to the Hall of Pure Melody and nearly ruined Yanyan’s pipa.” Or violated the sanctity of the Temple of Heaven, but if he had forgotten about it, there was no need to provide a reminder.
Doctor Wu clucked. Yes, her earlier deflection had gone to waste, but someone had to rescue Xiulan from her awkward position. At least nobody’s monthly cycles were under scrutiny for the moment.
The weight of Father’s stare pressed me into a deeper bow. “Rise,” he said.
I sat up. In the corner of my eye, Xiulan mouthed, Thank you.
The Emperor said, “My daughter, it is good you recognize your mistakes and have made yourself accountable. However, as I rule by the Mandate of Heaven, if I were to show leniency, it would be perceived by the palace staff, officials, and hereditary lords as preferential treatment. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Exaltedness.” I bowed my head.
Jawline set, he nodded. “In four days’ time, the day after Kai-Wu’s wedding, you shall present yourself before me with the hereditary lords in attendance. Until then, you shall be confined to the castle with limited visitation. I am assigning Secretary Hong to vet all who call on you.”
Bowing again in acknowledgement, I suppressed a sigh. That list of visitors would certainly not include Prince Hardeep, if he even turned up. He probably wouldn’t, since I was of no use to him anymore.
Kai-Guo said, “Father, perhaps you should assign a Moquan adept to follow Kaiya.”
As if at sixteen years old, I still believed in the boogeymen that stole unruly children from their beds and forced them into a life of thievery. I would’ve rolled my eyes if Father weren’t there to see it.
Father waved off Kai-Guo’s empty threat. A smile formed on his face. “People in and around the Hall of Pure Melody report that your music this morning bordered on the divine.” What would they say about my song in the Temple of Heaven, if they knew?
Doctor Wu snorted. “If I may, Your Exaltedness, she played with forces she did not understand or know how to control. It has thrown her energy out of balance, perhaps beyond the ability of the palace physicians to treat. She is fortunate that I came from Haikou to deliver herbal medicines to your family.”
Father tilted his head a fraction, the appropriate recognition for an emperor to show someone as respected as Doctor Wu. “You shall be her first visitor, then.”
Fourteen
All Paths Lead to Music
Eyes closed, I listened as spring sang its song through bird chirps and the wind rustling in fruit tree buds outside the Chrysanthemum Chamber. One of the many multipurpose rooms in Sun-Moon Castle, it had been appropriated by Doctor Wu for my acupuncture treatment.
I laid absolutely still, for Heavens knew how long. Gold needles protruded from points all over my body, throbbing and buzzing and blossoming as if my body hosted a fireworks display. It might as well have been one, given all the palace physicians who came and went, bobbing their heads at Doctor Wu’s wisdom. At least a dozen hands felt my pulse, and I had to stick my tongue out each time for their examination.
Had they been treating me themselves, they would’ve had to insert the needles blindfolded; but today, they held hand mirrors up to politely and indirectly see the points Doctor Wu had chosen. Not that it mattered; my lanky body might have just as easily belonged to a boy.
Not for long, though, if what Doctor Wu had said was right. And she was never wrong. Thank the Heavens. Maybe the news of my blossoming would stifle the rumors and jokes behind my back. Of course, it also meant that my wedding to General Lu, or perhaps some rebellious Northern lord, might happen in less than a month. That future did not include Prince Hardeep or Dragon Songs. I let out a long sigh.
“Breathe more deeply!” Doctor Wu said. “No sighing. It constrains your Qi, just like when you tried learning to play magic from a book. You were too excited, weren’t you?”
Yes. Although the needles didn’t allow me to move or speak at the moment, the omniscient doctor didn’t need to hear the answer to know it.
Doctor Wu harrumphed. “I have taught you about energy flow since you were a child. You should know better. And using that instrument.”
Yanyan’s pipa, nearly ruined by my own hand. If the doctor knew about the Dragon Scale Lute, she might be even more horrified. The needle in my belly sent a jolt radiating out in a wave.
“You can get up now.”
Get up? I shuddered. Even the smallest motion caused my muscles to twist around the needles, sending surges along my body’s energy paths.
From right above me, Doctor Wu’s voice bordered on exasperation. “Quickly now. I already took all the needles out.”
I opened my eyes. Stretching out my arms and legs, I wiggled my fingers and toes. Though I could move again, my body still sang from the symphony of Doctor Wu’s treatment.
The doctor hovered above me, twisting a dozen needles between her fingers. “Now, get dressed. I will be back.” She pointed toward a folded robe and left the room.
Groaning up to my knees, I retrieved the gown and held it up. The coarse brown cloth looked nothing like my usual embroidered silks, let alone the extravagant robe I’d worn to meet General Lu. Prince Hardeep had seen me in that, along with the thick layer of foundation, drawn-on eyebrows, and extended lashes. If he saw me now…
Blotches of pimples or not, my face certainly felt better without the cosmetic mask. If only I could be naturally beautiful like Xiulan. Catching my sigh, lest Doctor Wu hear it in the other room, I slipped the plain robe on. It could only mean one thing: one of the doctor’s tortuous lessons.
No sooner had I tied the sash than Doctor Wu slid open the door and marched back in. Her eyes darted from up to down in a cursory evaluation before she nodded. “Good. You may not be particularly pretty, but you have a strong spirit.”
My chest tightened. The doctor’s words probably hadn’t been meant to hurt, but still… At least Tian had always adored me, no matter how plain I was. And Prince Hardeep…
“Straighten your spine,” Doctor Wu said. “Good. Now listen: when you played that song with that instrument, you opened connections inside your body like the great musicians from the past. Just like Mai… However, you were too excited and lost control of it.”
My mouth gaped of its own accord. Doctor Wu hadn’t even heard me play, yet somehow knew.
“Close your mouth. I might not know Dragon Songs, but for your health, you have two paths: either master it, or give it up altogether.”
The doctor could have just said to give it up and get married. Maybe the fact she mentioned mastering it first offered a hint as to what she thought was best. And to think it was even a possibility! I shuffled on my feet.
The doctor pointed to one of the east-facing windows. “No decision should be considered without meditation. Stand there, face Jade Mountain
.”
What did I want? What was best for Cathay? I took short strides to the designated spot. Snow-capped Jade Mountain, dark green in the mist, rose over Sun-Moon Lake.
“Now, focus on your breathing, anchor yourself with the energies of Mother Earth.”
I suppressed a shudder. It was one of the first exercises Doctor Wu had taught me eight years before, at the Emperor’s bidding, to treat childhood anxiety. The calm had helped me get over Tian’s banishment. It also left my legs shaking in pain. I sank into a deep horse stance, thighs parallel to the ground, spine straight, and attention locked on the mountain. The pose was thoroughly unladylike. Nonetheless, it had helped develop the strength and balance I needed for the most graceful dances.
Doctor Wu regarded me with a furrowed brow. With a nudge of a hand, she lifted my chin to further straighten my back. “Now breathe, tongue on the roof of your mouth, in through the nose, letting your belly expand; out through your mouth, pushing your belly in.”
Gripping the floor with my bare toes, I did as I was told. Cool air settled into my lungs, and the tingling from the acupuncture spread and dispersed.
Doctor Wu afforded me a cursory glance. “Good. Your inherent Fire energies rage, fueling your creativity, but you must contain them with nourishing Water. Visualize your weight sinking deeper and deeper into Mother Earth as you exhale. Draw her life-giving energy through your Yongquan points in your feet as you inhale and bring them to your Dantian below your navel.”
I obeyed, imagining the energy of the world as tangible. A deep breath in, a slow breath out. Thoughts of Prince Hardeep settled, replaced by a calm drawn from the resolute vibration of the earth. The cool sensation seemed almost like the tranquility I felt when lost in music.
Which, in turn, felt nothing like playing Yanyan’s pipa or the Dragon Scale Lute.
The doctor clucked. “You practice too much of that Praise Moon Fist fighting. Its nature is Wood. It easily transforms into Fire and rises to your head. If you do not nurture your Water energies, your inherent Fire will burn out your Sea of Marrow. No wonder you lost control of the song’s power.”