by Julie C. Dao
Today, Xifeng was on cleaning duty with a dozen maidservants, scrubbing Lady Sun’s lacquered wood floors. She dipped her rag in a bucket of water, splashing a few drops on her face to help her stay awake. Madam Hong had rushed them through the morning prayers and meal to clean the concubine’s apartments from top to bottom.
Xifeng stifled another yawn. She hadn’t slept a full night since finding the hot springs a week ago. She kept dreaming about the mirror-water and the creature’s whisper: fairest. In some of the dreams, Guma came to her, bleeding from a wound in her chest. In others, a man too tall to be human rose from the water and spoke to her, but when she awoke the next morning, she could never remember what he had said.
“Stupid, useless thing!” Madam Hong shouted at another girl.
Xifeng scrubbed harder, not wanting to be the woman’s next victim. Her mind wandered back to the hot springs as she worked. It had been difficult finding a way out of the tunnel. She had scraped her hands climbing up slippery rocks to the main passageway, and she’d had to lie to the guards about being on an errand for Lady Sun so they would let her back into the city of women, but it had been worth it. She would do it again in a heartbeat, just to see that image of herself—beautiful, queenly, and invincible—in the strange mirror-water.
I took action once, for Wei, she thought. Now I must do so again for myself.
Boldly putting herself before the Crown Prince had gotten her access to the palace. This time, she needed to do the same with Emperor Jun.
It was time to meet her destiny.
“You don’t look like a servant,” a maid whispered, eyeing her with suspicion when Madam Hong’s back was turned. “Are you new?”
“You could say that.” Xifeng didn’t offer any more information. No one, least of all an ugly maidservant, needed to know she was here on a mission. Lady Sun hadn’t summoned her today, so she’d made sure to volunteer for scrubbing duty in order to be in the apartments.
Madam Hong clapped her hands for attention. “Stop your work. Take your buckets and go. Hurry.” She darted a glance at the lanterns, which burned low. The maidservants scurried to obey, and she turned in time to see Xifeng pick up a tray of persimmons and walk toward the concubine’s inner chambers. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Lady Sun is hungry,” Xifeng lied, holding up the tray she’d stolen from the kitchens, and left without another word.
A eunuch snapped to attention in the corridor when he heard her footsteps, relaxing when he saw her. “She’s sulking in her bedchamber,” he said, not bothering to hide his delight. “She’s warming up for another argument with the Emperor. You’d best come back another time.”
“I’ll leave this with her and be on my way.”
She had no desire to see the concubine in a temper. She just needed a place to hide while she waited for the Emperor to arrive. All week, she’d been asking subtle questions here and there about when His Majesty would visit the concubine. A few well-placed queries had informed her that today was the anniversary of Lady Sun’s arrival at court, and the Emperor would be coming to dine with her; all of the cleaning had been for his benefit.
She passed a procession of frazzled maids bustling in and out of the bedchamber where Lady Sun wailed loudly. It sounded like she was breaking things, too, from the shattering that punctured the air every few moments.
“You are all useless!” the concubine shouted, her voice growing louder with each word as though she were pursuing the fleeing maids.
Xifeng deposited the tray on the floor and dashed down the corridor, ducking into a random doorway just as Lady Sun emerged, screeching for the eunuchs’ help. No doubt His Majesty’s visit would be short today. Xifeng would wait until he was leaving and put herself before him. She had to cross his path, see his face and hear his voice.
She needed to glimpse her future.
The very idea made her palms dampen, and Wei’s face appeared in her mind. He’s happy where he is, she told herself determinedly. And when she became Empress, she would again be able to see him whenever she wanted; their fates would still be entwined as the cards predicted. She would be able to do anything she wished.
Xifeng studied her surroundings. The room she had entered didn’t seem to belong in these apartments. It was elegant in a sparse, simple way, with a few paintings and a heavy rug that muffled her footsteps. But what attracted her was the mahogany table in the center of the room. It held a magnificent map of the continent and its surrounding islands, painted on a sheet of paper so large she wondered at the tree from which it had come.
There had been a few maps in the volumes at home, but this was Feng Lu as she had never seen it. The artist had sketched the trees of the Great Forest with such exquisite detail, she could almost hear them rustling in some unfelt breeze. A red pin marked the Imperial Palace, from which she retraced her journey through the city and back into the forest.
According to this map, she had traveled the distance of her two hands placed palm to fingertip. She marveled at the immensity of the world in which they lived. Truly, they were nothing more than mere specks in a landscape of mountains and grasslands, oceans and rivers.
What might it be like, to be Empress of all these lands? She ran her fingers across the sea, imagining the waves stirring beneath her touch. Her heart soared.
“Do you like it?” a voice asked, and she jumped and spun around.
A man sat in the corner, his face partially hidden from view by an ivory folding screen. He was neither young nor old and wore a simple tunic of dark blue. He reminded her of painted mountains she had seen in books: sharp and jagged, with a bleak beauty honed by wind and struggle. He rose and came closer, observing her as intently as she did him. He seemed familiar somehow, like someone she had once known, though she was certain they’d never met. He could not be a eunuch, with that starkly masculine face and rich, dark voice. Nor was he a prince, for she had met the eldest, the Crown Prince, and this man seemed older than he was.
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful map,” Xifeng said cautiously.
He approached her with confident dignity. His chin was upturned and the lines in his face were hard, strong, as though he were used to giving orders that were obeyed without question.
All at once, it struck her: this was the man for whom she had been waiting—the Emperor of all Feng Lu. It could only be him—what man, aside from a eunuch, would be allowed in the women’s quarters? And she had never seen anyone with a more commanding presence. He walked as though he owned not only the palace, but the entire world.
He must have come in, unseen, from a different entrance.
It took all of her willpower not to falter or collapse to her knees before him.
Why should I bow? He is my equal. A slow hum of approval whispered from the dark depths beneath her heart.
Still, she felt conscious of her plain hair and clothing. “I’m sorry, sir.” She spoke in the respectful tone she would have used for a minister or high-ranking eunuch. “I didn’t realize the room was already occupied.”
He had a twinkle of humor she never would have expected from a ruthless invader of foreign lands. “I suspect you came in here for the same reason I did.” He tilted his head toward the corridor, where Lady Sun was still shrieking.
Xifeng kept her face blank and watched the Emperor lean over the map, forearms braced against the edge. He was shorter than Wei and not as broad, with a lithe elegance better suited to rooms like this than to a training field. In short—nothing like what she had expected. She forced herself to remain calm, to curb the mixture of confusion and eagerness and recognition boiling inside her.
“It’s a birthday gift for the Empress. The eunuchs hid it here so she wouldn’t find it.”
“It’s an impressive gift, and one I think will be appreciated,” she responded.
How could this man with the quiet, thoughtful a
ir possibly be the iron-willed ruler of Feng Lu? And yet it was certainly him. He was Empress Lihua’s second husband, Xifeng knew, but still she had expected someone stern, rotund, and in his sixties. This man had to be about thirty, Lady Sun’s age, and carried himself not with the swagger of a soldier, but with quiet thought and intelligence.
He was more like a bird, she decided, with his sharp, clear-cut features. But whereas Wei was hawk-like, wild and savage, Emperor Jun was more like a falcon, practiced, polished, and precise. Still a bird of prey. She averted her gaze when his keen, narrow eyes returned to her.
“You don’t speak like a maidservant. Who are you, then?” She told him, and his laugh was a bright, merry sound. “I wish you luck in your new position. So you think this is an appropriate present for Her Majesty?”
“It’s not my place to say, sir, if the gift is already meant for her.”
“Are you sure you’re new to the palace? You speak as guardedly as one who has lived her whole life at court.”
“It would be a marvelous gift for any lady, but particularly one who reigns above all others.” She glanced at his hands on the map. His finger- nails were immaculate, the thumb lingering off the coast of Kamatsu. Wei’s had always been dirty and covered with cuts and bruises, the hands of a working man.
Emperor Jun’s eyes crinkled. “Most ladies would disagree with you. Women like Lady Sun, for instance, prefer silks and jewels.”
Xifeng bit her tongue to keep from saying something about the concubine she might regret later. “This is a much more romantic gesture.”
“Why?”
“Any woman of means might expect silks and jewels, but how many can say she has been given the world?”
His face broke into such a delighted smile, she couldn’t help returning it. “A lady-in-waiting with a way with words. I thought such a thing couldn’t exist,” he teased. “You know, that chief eunuch fancies himself a poet. You should speak to him. Perhaps he’ll mentor you.”
If he’s not busy stealing from poems himself, she thought, but saw he was still teasing. He must have known about Master Yu, too. It was almost too easy to forget she was speaking to the Emperor himself, not to a friend. “I’m afraid he’d find me a bit beneath him, sir.”
“Nonsense.” He turned back to the map, tapping a section above the Great Forest at the continent’s northernmost tip. “Do you see this mountain range here?”
“The Mountains of Enlightenment. The shrine of the Dragon Lords lies there.”
“Very good,” he said, as though praising a pupil. “And a hundred monasteries besides. There’s an envoy leaving the palace this winter to go there. They make an offering of loyalty to the gods once every nine years. The last time they did that, I had just come to the palace. Just a poor distant relative of the Empress . . . certainly nothing to her or her first husband, Tai. They were first cousins of the purest blood, directly descended from the Dragon King himself.”
Xifeng glanced at him, and the feeling of familiarity intensified. Perhaps it was the bitter edge she heard in his voice, that others should be born to such greatness; he was, after all, a bit of an outsider like herself. He’s my destiny, she realized. He seems familiar because our names are written together in the cards.
“Any offering to the shrine is an offering to the Empress, her children, and their godly blood,” he continued.
“The shrine must be empty, isn’t it?”
“Of the gods’ treasures, yes.” His face returned to its calm neutrality as he traced his thumb across the painted peaks. “The lords removed their heirlooms when their alliance dissolved. Some say they brought the relics back to the heavens, whereas others think they left them hidden on Earth.”
“What is your opinion?”
Emperor Jun arched his eyebrows. “That they’re still here, for the taking.”
“For the taking?” she repeated. “By whom?”
“The scholars still speak of that fabled peace of Feng Lu, when the shrine was full. They say peace will return one day when the treasures are restored. Pretty thought, isn’t it?”
The tengaru queen’s ageless eyes materialized in Xifeng’s mind. That tree could be meant for you . . . or for her. Was it only a pretty thought if the demon guardians believed it enough to have protected the Dragon King’s apple tree for all the ages of the world?
“Apart from the relics, the shrine isn’t empty,” the Emperor went on. “Envoys from every kingdom on the continent bring food and jewels and precious metals as tokens of worship.”
“I’d like to see it with my own eyes,” Xifeng said wistfully. “Will you go with them?”
He shook his head. “The palace officials will. Ministers and scholars, with soldiers from the Imperial Army to escort them. They’ll bring our Ambassador Liao, of course, and a visiting one from Kamatsu . . .”
“Shiro?” Xifeng asked eagerly, and he stared at her in astonishment. “He was one of my companions on the way here, as was his friend Hideki. He was my guardian and chaperone, in fact,” she added, remembering the story she had told the Crown Prince.
“They’re both doing well and will be part of the envoy,” he said heartily. “I would have brought them today if I’d known that . . .” He stopped, his eyes on the doorway.
Lady Sun stood watching them, her whole body trembling. “Why,” she said in a dangerously quiet voice, “are you not on your knees, girl?”
“There’s no need for that. Xifeng and I are good friends now.”
Lady Sun’s eyes on him burned like black embers. “Friends?” Lady Sun whispered, and Xifeng despised herself for stepping backward at the hatred in the woman’s eyes. “I don’t think you understand, Your Majesty, that this impertinent girl is nothing but a maid in my service . . .”
“Lady-in-waiting,” the Emperor corrected her, the corner of his mouth lifting at Xifeng.
She longed to smile back, but dropped to her knees instead. “A thousand apologies, Your Majesty. I did not recognize you,” she lied.
“Of course she did.” Lady Sun still spoke in that low voice like a storm about to break. “She knew exactly who you were the whole time. She’s been asking questions about us, trying to find out when you’d be here with me!”
There are ears all over this palace, Kang had warned, and many of them listen on her behalf.
Xifeng raised her head. The stark, wind-chiseled peaks of Emperor Jun’s face held amusement, not surprise. Had he known all the time that she was aware of his identity? She lowered her nose to the floor again, cheeks warming. Well, what of it? Let him know fate has come calling.
“Insolent girl!” Lady Sun shrieked. She flew at Xifeng, slapping the side of her head with all of her strength. The force of it sent Xifeng down, her ear ringing and stars dancing before her eyes, embarrassment forgotten. “How dare you stand before His Majesty like an equal!”
Xifeng covered her face as the woman continued to hit her, reaching into her tunic to pinch the tender skin on her arms and neck. The concubine drew back and kicked her, sending flares of fire into her ribs, and Xifeng choked on a sob as memories of Guma flooded back. The screaming pain, the warmth of blood rushing to the injured area. But there had always been a lesson in every beating, and this was nothing but senseless, jealous violence.
“Stop this!” The Emperor grabbed at the irate woman, but in this storm, he was mere thunder to the fury of her lightning.
She pried herself from his grasp and fell upon Xifeng once more.
Every muscle in Xifeng’s body tensed to retaliate. She was beyond caring that the Emperor stood witness. She would grab Lady Sun’s ankle and pull her down to crack her head against the table. But it was a gamble, for when she uncovered her face to do so, she felt the nails of the concubine’s hand rake down her right cheek. Five trails of fire burned from her eye to her jaw as the skin shredded, and Xifeng screamed, dripping bloo
d onto the priceless rug.
Two eunuch guards rushed in and dragged Lady Sun away, but Xifeng hardly registered their presence. The room spun as she touched her ruined face, the fingers coming away bloody. Her heart roared like a funeral drum. Someone spoke to her, helped her up, but she heard only an unintelligible rumble. There were eyes, so many eyes on her. She tucked the side of her face against her shoulder, sick and ashamed, and felt the floor tilting beneath her.
The eunuch who had helped her up shook her. “Get ahold of yourself, girl,” he hissed.
Lady Sun stood weeping in the Emperor’s arms a few feet away, clutching at his tunic. “She said she didn’t know me,” he was telling her in a voice as frigid as the northern winds. “There was no need to abuse her like that.”
“I don’t care about her,” the concubine moaned. “Why were you hiding from me, my love? I didn’t mean to get angry about the map. I only want all of your presents to be for me. There is no one I love above you . . .”
He shushed her, his face twisted in anger and embarrassment. His eyes met Xifeng’s, and she instinctively hid the injured side of her face beneath a curtain of hair. “Are you all right?”
“Answer His Majesty,” the eunuch snapped at her, but Emperor Jun shook his head.
“She’s in shock. Take her away and have someone clean her face.”
The room continued spinning as the eunuch led Xifeng out. Behind them, she heard the Emperor say wearily, “You forget your place,” and Lady Sun pleading, “My place is by your side, but if you wish, I’ll go to a monastery and never return. I’ll go away. I’ll leave you for good!”
Xifeng turned back to see Emperor Jun burying his face in the concubine’s neck. It was clear from the way they came together that this was a private, regular routine.
A crowd of maids and eunuchs clustered around Xifeng in the corridor. She stared at them in a daze, listening to them murmur and cluck their tongues at the blood on her face and clothing. Someone handed her a wet cloth and she took it gratefully, her hand shaking as she covered the unsightliness of her cheek. A maid asked if she was all right and she tried to reply, but the words stuck in her throat like food that couldn’t be swallowed.