by JC Kang
Which left her, lest these boys come to blows, with her and Queen Ausra caught in between. “Nothing is more frigid than the cold corpse of a dead king,” Kaiya repeated. “One of my favorite quotes from the Chronicles of Vydas. From the twelfth chapter. A hundred years after the War of the Ancient Gods, when the great Vydas defeated a neighboring tyrant in single combat and founded the Nothori Empire. I have read that your royal families all descend from Vydas.”
Arvydas’ hands relaxed, fork returning to its place. Likewise, Evydas’ bitter expression melted away. The table was momentarily silent, and all the kings’ gazes fell on her.
Geros Bovyan, however, frowned. “The Nothori Empire? I would not consider a rogues’ gallery of petty princes and chieftains, held together by political marriages, adoptions, and hostage exchanges, an empire. Even your modern day kingdoms”—he spat the word in disdain—“would fall apart if your childish squabbles were not held in check by the protection of Teleri imperial order.”
The table fell into an awkward silence, all the Nothori kings cowed by their powerful neighbor. Behind them, servants held trays, ready to deliver the first dish of the seven-course meal, but none dared approach the table after the First Consul’s tirade.
Kaiya placed a hand over her mouth to cover a soft laugh. “First Consul,” she said, channeling her most disarmingly sweet voice, “we in Cathay believe that brotherly love holds people and nations together more than fear of the sword. Was that not also the belief of your ancestors, the Bovyan Knights,” she gestured with an open hand toward one of the stained-glass panels, “who protected the Arkothi states following the Hellstorm and Long Winter?”
The First Consul scowled, and Kaiya imagined his brain was overheating as he searched for a rebuttal to her question.
She forced her expression into serenity, even if her nerves were strained tighter than the coiled strings of her guzheng. Had she gone too far in confronting a man who could probably break her in half with his bare hands?
With a cold stare at her, he stood and raised a hand.
CHAPTER 12:
Distractions
Jie never made it to the table at the back of the hall.
She knew a set-up when she saw one, having engineered many in her life. The Teleri planned to embarrass the princess by isolating her from counsel and surrounding her with enemies. Ambassador Wu could protest until the vanquished Orc Gods returned to Tivaralan on their flaming chariots, but the dozens of armed Teleri soldiers would not be changing the seating arrangements any time soon.
Tian met her gaze, his nod conveying their mutual understanding. Any attempt to intervene would risk the princess’ safety.
Jie looked toward the front of the hall, where the First Consul stood, staring daggers at the princess. Elf ears notwithstanding, the buzz of a hundred quiet conversations drowned out whatever Geros was saying.
He took his seat, and servants began setting down plates of food. It was a perfect opportunity for them to poison the princess. They had already tried once, after all.
Jie glanced at Tian, flashing a simple hand motion to convey her intent. I handle it.
She turned towards her usher. Rising on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear. “Where might I go to freshen up?”
The young man craned back and gaped at her. His confused look might have been amusing if not for the urgency.
“The privy,” she hissed.
His face flushed an interesting shade of red. “Oh. My apologies, miss.” He gestured toward the right side of the hall. “Outside that door, to your left.”
With a curt nod, Jie swept towards the door, taking note of its relation to the kitchen exit. In the corner of her eye, young General Marius di Bovyan was watching her.
He rose to his feet.
Jie had spent the afternoon modifying her gown to conceal weapons and tools in the sleeves and hems, but now regretted not doing anything about improving its mobility. Lifting her skirts, she quickened her pace.
She burst through the door and out into the cool night air with a sigh of relief, her admirer left behind. Jie took one step, only to stop and marvel at the banquet hall’s exterior. The bright lights from inside sparkled through the stained glass, shooting colorful blades of light up into the night sky. It had to be a coincidental byproduct of the garish interior. No Bovyan would intentionally create such an aesthetic view.
“Mrs. Zheng,” Marius called her from behind.
Jie cursed under her breath. The combination of his longer stride, her restricting gown, and a temporary distraction had resulted in a needless delay. She spun around in a swift twist more befitting a warrior than the lady she meant to portray. So careless on her part! Hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Channeling her inner Princess Kaiya, she flashed her most alluring smile. “General Marius, shouldn’t you be accompanying your comrades?”
“I am around them all the time. As I am sure you can imagine, the company of a dozen taciturn Bovyans becomes quite dull.”
Jie suppressed a shudder. Being among a dozen Teleri would mean something completely different for her. “I guess you spend hours discussing the most efficient way to split a skull?”
He placed a hand on his chest. “You know us too well. But in all fairness, we are not all so one-dimensional.”
Doubtful, but then again, the sparkling view of the hall supported his claim. She tilted her head. “I’ve been told a Bovyan’s appreciation of art is limited to blood splatters. Yet I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful this hall is from the outside. Did your people design it?”
General Marius’ expression lit up like Wailian Castle’s firepowder stores. “I am happy you noticed! Actually, the framing is quite ancient. Legends say it is the bones of the ancient dragon Venorax, who allied himself with the orcs in their conquest of Tivaralan five thousand years ago. The elves slew him with their Deep Magic on this very spot. The first Nothori king, Vydas, built his castle here. First Consul Geros personally redesigned it a dozen years ago, when he was still just Junior Consul Haros.”
Right, the First Consul. There was a princess to rescue. Jie opened her mouth to speak—
“Of course you know the real reason I followed you. I’d hoped to reminisce about the old days.” He flashed a broad grin.
Old days? And that smile. The man must think his appreciated but unnecessary rescue was worth reminiscing about, and that a month ago was the old days. Jie channeled her inner Kaiya, tilting her head. “I’d love to catch up sometime. Perhaps I can join you at your table?”
Marius’ eyes widened, the corners of his lips curling up. “I would be honored.”
“The stuffiness in there overwhelmed me. I will join you after I cool down.” Jie’s hand lingered on a throwing spike in her sleeve before withdrawing a sandalwood fan. She snapped it open and fanned herself, pausing for a beat to conceal part of her face, while she batted her lashes.
The general’s cheeks flushed. Maybe it was possible to make a Bovyan swoon. Princess Kaiya would be proud.
His smile broadened. “I’ll be waiting.”
A long time. Jie watched as he disappeared down the hall. Finally. She turned and tottered towards the kitchens as fast as the gown would allow.
The activity in the outdoor space between the hall and kitchen resembled the entrance to an ant hill, with servants bustling back and forth with trays in their hands. Scents of roasting meats and unfamiliar, pungent spices hung in the chill air.
Jie crept closer and peeked into the hall, immediately locating the main table and identifying the young Nothori server assigned to the princess.
“Excuse me miss, are you lost?” An unfamiliar voice said from behind.
She turned around to find a short, blond servant. “No, no. I was just admiring the efficiency of the kitchen staff. You don’t mind, do you?” She squeezed her chest between her arms, trying to conjure the feminine curves that the Heavens had thus far denied her. She tilted her head and looked up through her lashes.
T
he servant loosened his collar and gulped. “Uh, sure. Just be careful.”
It was too easy. No wonder the princess got her way so often. Jie brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear, just as she spotted the princess’ server. Closely bunched with several others, he approached with choreographed precision, platter in hand.
“Of course. I’ll be so careful, you won’t know I’m here.” She offered a shy smile and bobbed her head. Then, with a short step backward, she conveniently tripped on her inner gown and careened into the closest server in the phalanx.
As his tray slipped from his grip, Jie caught it in one hand. She spun and exchanged the platter with another servant, before lifting the dragonshell lobster on the princess’ tray and swapping it out with the same dish from the second server. In a final display of dramatic clumsiness worthy of an accomplished stage actor, she launched herself into the princess’ server. His tray clattered to the hard-packed ground, sending chunks of spiced red potatoes and stewed baby carrots tumbling in a cascade of color.
Ugh, the humiliation of it, even when planned. No need to put any more of an act than necessary. She caught hold of another servant’s arm to keep herself from flopping into the mess. “I am so sorry!” she whispered in as distraught a tone as she could muster.
She squatted, picking up the vegetables piece by piece and taking surreptitious sniffs. Nothing. She rolled her eyes, stewing more than the carrots. Why worry? Even if something were poisoned, the princess wouldn’t eat any of it anyway.
“Do not concern yourself, miss.” A servant bent down next to her, offering a reassuring smile as he joined her in cleaning up.
“I’m so sorry.” Jie bowed her head yet again.
A set of boots came to a halt in front of her and she looked up to meet the hard scowl of the kitchen manager. He pointed a finger towards the hall. “Begone!”
“I’m sorry.” If Jie had to say it again with so much sincerity, she might actually convince herself that she meant it. She bowed her head a last time, her neck more sore than the time she’d wrestled an altivorc. Picking up her skirts, she took the service entrance back to the reception.
The hall was silent. At the front table, Princess Kaiya was locked in a staring match with the lobster. Spectators watched the duel enthralled, wondering in low voices if the princess was not so perfect after all.
With a snort, Jie stalked over to the main table, deftly avoiding a hulking Bovyan guard who tried to block her way. The princess clenched and unclenched her hands under the table, her face blanched. Across from her, the First Consul wore a gloating smirk.
Jie hurried over and bowed deeply at the princess’ side. “Your Highness,” she said in Arkothi so that all could understand, “you must not eat shellfish now.” She turned to face the First Consul and bowed again. “Your Eminence, Princess Kaiya hoped to play the zither for you on this auspicious night. In Cathay, it is taboo to eat shelled animals before a performance. Too much of an imbalance between hard and soft, cold and hot.”
Murmurs broke out among the guests.
Jie sucked on her lower lip. How ridiculous a lie was that? She could come up with better—
Geros’ smirk disappeared. “Play for me? Yes!” He rose to his full height, towering over all. Even across the table, his presence was unsettling. He waved servants over. “Clear the dais.”
This had to be a dream. It had actually worked. In the middle of a formal banquet, no less.
The princess offered Jie a frail smile. She floated to her feet and spoke, her melodic voice carrying across the hall. “Ambassador Wu, have my guzheng brought over and prepared.”
Servants scurried to obey the First Consul and princess’ command. As she fit silver picks on each of her fingers, the handmaidens brought forth an antique guzheng. A resonant half-tube wood cavity over five feet long, the instrument had thirty-six twisted silk strings with moveable bridges. They placed it on a carved wooden stand, and set a gold-embroidered cushioned stool behind it.
With the planned distraction in place, it was time for Jie to slip out. Now if only she could get Tian’s attention.
From his seat at the back of the hall, Tian had ground his teeth as he watched the princess embarrass herself and Hua. Over a crustacean, of all things. Without Jie’s intervention, the guests would still be chattering about the spoiled Princess of Cathay. Instead, they were now admiring the craftsmanship of the antique guzheng as the handmaidens set it up.
The princess glided across the floor to the dais. Settling on the stool with her back perfectly straight and hands resting in her lap, she raised her head and swept her gaze over the audience. Gracefully raising her arms, she extended her delicate fingers. The picks glittered in the light. The sleeves of her outer gown settled down around her elbows, revealing slender, porcelain-like forearms. A hush settled through the room, everyone’s focus transfixed on the dais.
All except the altivorcs. With a look of disdain, the orc prince rose to his feet. Chairs rattled across the stone floors as his guards stood as well. The prince spun on his heel and stalked out the main door, his entourage in tow. Only a handful of heads turned at their blatant departure.
One of those was the Teleri general who’d been sticking to Jie like a wet leaf. He also rose and headed towards a side door.
The sound of the guzheng’s first elocution yanked Tian’s attention back to the front, as if the note had tangibly wrapped itself around his head and turned it. The slow, deliberate strum through pentatonic notes caressed his cheek like fanning fingers. The vibrato alternated between jubilant, short high notes and long, pensive low notes, eventually transitioning into a melancholy tremolo. He closed his eyes, basking in the sound’s embrace.
Something hit him in the ear, jolting him from his reverie. Tian jerked his head toward the source. Jie scowled, motioning towards the mesmerized audience.
His logical mind awoke from its torpor. The song, Between Heaven and Earth, was a particularly long piece about man’s smallness compared to the wonders of the Heavens above and the world around. If the First Consul understood that the princess was rebuking his ambition through the song’s symbolism, he might become even more adversarial. And indeed, the Bovyan seemed less entranced by the rise and fall of the notes, and more by the rise and fall of the princess’ chest.
Still, the length of the song afforded Tian plenty of time to reconnoiter before anyone missed him. He nodded at Jie, who slipped out a side door. With everyone else captivated, he stood and slunk out the front. The enthralled guards didn’t move to block his way.
The cool night air greeted him. He crept through the shadows towards the rear, taking note of the compound’s layout. At the back of the main residence, the jingle of chain armor sent him ducking behind a thick hedge. He peeked up from the bush.
The altivorc prince and his guards came to a stop near the building’s back door. Apparently, Tian and Jie weren’t the only ones using the musical distractions towards nefarious ends. He crouched, motionless. Hopefully, the bright moonlight would dim the altivorcs’ heat vision.
Jie’s Teleri general arrived next, approaching the orcs with a nod of his head. “Do we still have a deal?”
“Will you still deliver on your side of the bargain?” The prince bared his fangs as he grinned.
“Of course. The Teleri do not renege on their treaties and promises.”
“Good,” the prince said. “Three thousand of my foot soldiers have descended from the Nothori Mountains and are heading up the main highway from the south. Five thousand of our men, garrisoning the southern border for Iksuvi, abandon their post as we speak.”
What were the altivorcs up to? And how could they know troop movements hundreds of li away?
The general nodded, showing no sign of surprise. “Then you will allow the Lietuvi army to attack western Iksuvi?”
“The garrison will join in the assault,” the prince said. “Another ten thousand of our soldiers have joined up with the Rotuvi army to invade Lietuvi whil
e they are distracted attacking Iksuvi. If your First Consul wanted to destabilize the Nothori Kingdoms—and why, I cannot fathom, since you have them well under control—then you will get what you wished for.”
Blood rushed to Tian’s head. Jie had been right. The Teleri were staging an invasion. The princess was caught in the middle.
The general shook his head. “These pathetic wretches live in constant fear of their incompetent rulers. When the Nothori Kingdoms are no longer simply tributaries and become integral parts of the Teleri Empire, all will prosper from peace and stability. We are still under treaty with those petty kings until midnight the day after tomorrow. After the treaties expire, we will begin our attack. By the third day, the Kingdom of Iksuvi will be no more, and the other two will be in chaos. Now if only we could liberate Cathay as easily.”
“You will control all exits to the city soon enough. Take their whelp hostage and watch her daddy sing.” The altivorc prince shrugged.
Tian clenched his jaw. The princess embarrassing herself over a lobster now seemed trivial.
The general harrumphed. “Now is not the time. The First Consul has other plans for Cathay.”
The altivorc laughed. “You may lose a golden opportunity. Just know that our king is amenable to assisting you, if you wish to assail their embassy.”
CHAPTER 13:
Symphony of the Gods
Jie looked for a place to change. Sneaking around in a gown worked just about as well as hiding the moons on this cloudless night. The white moon, Renyue, hung full and low in the sky, shedding a soft light over the compound. The larger blue moon tilted sharply, its rings at their smallest and dimmest for the year. The iridescent moon Zhuyue waxed towards half gibbous. Though their interplay cast enough shadows to hide in, the guards would be sure to see the flash of silken colors.
Blending into the deepest shadow, Jie withdrew a pouch from her silk sash. She pulled out a lightweight black shirt, pants, and mask. They would have never fit into such a small space if not for the enchantment placed on the pouch by the elf Ayana. She shrugged out of her gown and shimmied into the outfit, then wiped a black cream over her face and the backs of her hands.