Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  The others stood whispering, their horror and delight doing nothing to ease Xifeng’s still-pounding heart or her dizziness.

  “She flew at her like a cat . . . ruined that girl’s face . . .”

  “Did you hear she threatened to leave him again?”

  “He’ll grow tired of these games, mark my words . . .”

  Xifeng summoned all of her strength and pushed through them, running out of the concubine’s apartments and into the rain. She stopped to empty her stomach into a flower bush, choking on her bile, still hearing the sound of her skin splitting beneath Lady Sun’s nails. There was blood, so much blood drying on her fingers and her clothes. She sank to her hands and knees, crawling through the downpour to the stream. Raindrops marred the surface, but it was enough to see the mess of ripped skin and blood on her face.

  She tipped her head to the sky, opened her mouth, and let out a savage scream, devastating in its despair. Not even in Guma’s most terrible fits of temper had she ever destroyed Xifeng’s face this way. She pressed her damaged cheek into the dirt, body heaving with sobs. The cool mud against her burning skin calmed her a bit. The ground stopped tilting and her heart slowed.

  Cry not, for your tears are no more than rain upon your enemy’s face.

  It was a line from a poem she had once been forced to memorize. If only Guma had known how Xifeng would need that advice. What would she say if she were here?

  Lady Sun thinks she’s playing a game with no opponent. She trusts the Emperor will never put her aside for someone younger, brighter, more beautiful.

  That was what Guma would tell her. And it was true—that was a king’s privilege in a man’s world. If the concubine didn’t understand that, she was dangerously overplaying her hand.

  Hideki had compared the court to a sand pit. Xifeng imagined Lady Sun clawing for the edge, her greedy grip only pushing it farther away, the soft sand tumbling down the sides to the bottom. Somehow, there would be a way to make sure she fell straight down.

  And Xifeng would be there when she did.

  The eunuchs burst into her chamber late that night. Xifeng blinked as they stood over her bed with a glaring lantern. “Search her and all of her things,” Master Yu commanded.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Xifeng sputtered, slapping their hands away. She leaned on her pillow, hoping they wouldn’t reach beneath it and find her mother’s treasures. But they didn’t need to, for one of the eunuchs pawing through her clothing on the chair gave a shout of triumph.

  “You said it was a gold ornament, Master Yu?” he asked smugly. From the tunic she’d worn all day, he had pulled an exquisite gold hair comb in the shape of a crescent moon.

  “That’s it,” Master Yu said. “Take her.”

  Dandan and Mei sat up in their beds, their eyes round as the eunuchs grasped Xifeng none too gently and propelled her toward the door.

  “Let me go! I haven’t done anything!” she shouted.

  Master Yu slapped her soundly across the face, and a stabbing pain shot across the still-raw, ruined half. “Don’t you dare speak to me, you vile little peasant,” he spat. “You need to learn some manners.” He led them out into the courtyard. Several ladies-in-waiting and eunuchs trailed after in their nightclothes, drowsy eyes growing alert at the sign of trouble.

  Though it had stopped raining, the ground was still wet. The eunuchs pushed Xifeng down, the damp stone tiles scraping her bare legs. The moon shone upon the long, evil-looking whip Master Yu held in his hand. She struggled, but the eunuchs tightened their grip, and she searched desperately for a friendly face. She only saw a lovely, moon-pale face that made her cheek sting again, this time in memory: Lady Sun, staring placidly back at her.

  The destruction of Xifeng’s beauty had not been enough. She must have had someone—Dandan or Mei?—plant the comb on Xifeng while she was sleeping. Xifeng’s head swiveled left and right, but Kang was not there. She had not a single friend to save her from this humiliation.

  “Strip her,” Master Yu ordered, and the eunuchs tore her tunic from her. She knelt, naked and hopeless, hugging her thin arms across her breasts as they pushed her face into the ground. Every muscle in her body shook as she closed her eyes in despair at Guma’s betrayal, at the spirits of magic who had lied to her and made false promises to bring her to this torture.

  She gave one last, hopeless wrench in the eunuchs’ grasp. They each gripped a shoulder and stretched her back bare for the whip.

  “One hundred stripes ought to do it, Master Yu,” Lady Sun commanded.

  The eunuch’s reply held a note of shock. “One hundred, my lady? I assumed . . .”

  “You dare to question me? One hundred.”

  I’m going to die tonight, Xifeng thought. She would be nothing but a puddle of blood and shredded skin on the cobblestones. She squeezed her eyes shut, fiery tears rolling down her cheek. Help me, she begged the creature, her only ally, please help me.

  Master Yu stepped behind her. She heard his whip dragging behind him and the swish of his arm as he raised it, bringing it down with tremendous force.

  Searing, fire-hot pain lashed across her tender skin. Xifeng had thought she’d known pain, true pain, but Guma’s cane had been nothing compared with this. She screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, struggling with all of her strength against the eunuchs forcibly holding her in place. The whip whistled as it moved up in the air again, then sliced into her body. The world spun around her as she shook from the excruciating agony of it.

  How ironic that she would die tonight in such a cruel, familiar manner.

  The whip cracked again, a sharp, blistering sound as it rose into the air to descend upon her yet again. Xifeng braced herself for the blow, hoping this one would make her lose consciousness. She could already feel the stripe of heat before it was even etched into her skin . . .

  But it did not come. The eunuchs loosened their grip, enough for her to turn her head around in astonishment.

  Kang stood there, his eyes burning with black wrath, one hand gripping the tail of the whip. Behind him was Empress Lihua, her face white with anger.

  “One hundred lashes would be enough to kill a grown man many times over, let alone a girl, don’t you think?” Her Majesty said contemptuously. “What has she done to warrant this?”

  Lady Sun squared her shoulders, her eyes defiant. “She stole a comb in the presence of not only myself, but the Emperor as well. I wanted to teach her a lesson.”

  “By killing her? It’s difficult to educate a corpse.” The Empress glared at the eunuchs. “Put the tunic back on her at once and summon Bohai to my apartments. All of you return to your beds.” There was a flurry of bowing as the onlookers hurried away.

  “I have the right to exercise authority upon any in my service!” Even Master Yu drew back at the overt hatred in Lady Sun’s voice.

  “Xifeng is not in your service, but in mine. Remember that before you murder all of my women.” The Empress turned her scathing glare upon the chief eunuch and Madam Hong. “I’m told you assigned Xifeng to work as Lady Sun’s personal maid. I trust with over two hundred servants at our disposal, you can find someone more appropriate to clean after her animals than a lady-in-waiting recommended by the Crown Prince.” She was magnificent in her disapproval, in the tilt of her chin and the flash of her eye.

  A daughter of dragons, Xifeng thought as Kang helped her stand up. She leaned against him, still shaking from the pain as he slipped her tunic over her head. She hissed through her teeth when the cotton snagged on her fresh wounds.

  The Empress’s fiery gaze turned on her. “Did you steal the comb, Xifeng?”

  “I did not, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice ragged. “I have no purpose for it.”

  A smile tugged at the Empress’s thin lips. “You wouldn’t have worn it longer than five minutes without a scene.” She glanced at Lady Sun, who red
dened. “Master Yu, Madam Hong, we’ll discuss this in the morning. Xifeng, come with me, please.” She turned, the gold phoenix embroidered on her robe shimmering as though aflame.

  “I’ll wait for you outside the door,” Kang promised. He helped her climb the stairs to the uppermost level of the building. Along with the stripes of heat on her back, she could still feel the eunuchs’ grasp on her arms, which would be purple with bruises by morning.

  On the walkway, she saw Lady Sun still watching her. Xifeng clenched her jaw. One day soon, she vowed, it would be the concubine’s turn to cower before her in pain and fear—and Xifeng would enjoy every minute of it.

  The Empress led her into a chamber lit by white lanterns. Whereas Lady Sun’s apartments were showy and overstuffed, the Empress’s were simple, with tasteful furnishings and nature blooming on every surface. It was the home of a woman with nothing to prove. A table of creamy, light wood held an exquisite miniature tree standing no more than a foot high. Its branches were tiny clouds of evergreen bursting with little white blossoms, their hearts apple-red.

  “The tree of a thousand lanterns,” the Empress said, noticing her interest. “A gift from the palace gardener.”

  “It’s lovely,” Xifeng said. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for saving me tonight.”

  “Kang is the one who deserves your thanks. He caused a considerable commotion to notify me.”

  Xifeng hadn’t considered how many layers of guards the eunuch had to get through to reach the Empress. If he hadn’t succeeded, if he hadn’t brought Her Majesty in time . . . She shut her eyes, feeling a rush of horror mixed with gratitude.

  Empress Lihua regarded her with bright, youthful eyes in a face marked with sorrow. “I see the whip wouldn’t have been the first to touch you today.” Her fingers hovered over the cheek Lady Sun had damaged. “What have you done to make her hate you so?”

  Xifeng ducked her head. “It seems one doesn’t have to do much, Your Majesty.”

  “I don’t often deem it worthwhile to interfere with Lady Sun’s doings. My husband’s consorts are given much freedom, but occasionally I find it necessary to remind them that they need my approval, as well.” A muscle worked in her jaw as she turned to the miniature tree.

  Xifeng pressed a hand over the vicious scratches, recalling how the Emperor had wearily embraced Lady Sun. “It can’t be easy for you, sharing him with them.”

  “It’s not for me to choose or complain. My husband is the Emperor, and I must put his needs before mine. I am first in his heart and his home, and there’s nothing more I can ask.” But her face wore an expression of resigned patience, one she must have had to learn. She hesitated before laying a gentle hand on Xifeng’s arm. “Don’t let Lady Sun’s mistreatment make you sad, my dear. She behaves that way to anyone she sees as a rival.”

  “I won’t forgive her for this,” Xifeng whispered, longing to lay her head in the Empress’s lap and be soothed. “She’s ruined my face.”

  “Wounds heal in time.”

  “But they also scar.” She closed her eyes, another wave of dizzy panic threatening to overcome her. “I wish I knew what my Guma would advise. I don’t think it wrong that I came to the palace . . . to you. But I feel I’m not where I ought to be.”

  Careful not to drink your own poison, the creature hissed as her words poured out. You may win the Empress by playing the daughter, but remember she is not your mother.

  Footsteps sounded from the doorway. Xifeng’s eyes flew open as one of the guards approached. “The Imperial physician, Your Majesty.”

  “Show him in.” The Empress raised an eyebrow at Xifeng. “This is another reason I suspect you are favored by the gods. Tonight, I have been without my usual sleeping tonic, and the physician brings it now. If I had taken it as I do every evening, no power on earth could have awakened me.”

  Xifeng shuddered, as a man in his sixties entered the room. Despite the late hour, he wore formal blue silk printed with gold circles and a cap marking his rank. He was short and stout, with bright black eyes and an impressive silver beard that fell in a long, straight point. This, then, was Bohai. He had nothing of his daughter, Akira, in him until he smiled, and then Xifeng was struck by the resemblance in the way his cheeks drew back and his eyes shone.

  She flushed under the physician’s keen eyes. Perhaps he pitied her—such a beautiful girl, her face so unfortunately marred.

  “Your Majesty, I’ve brought your tonic.”

  The Empress lifted a hand. “Tend to Xifeng first, please. Her need is greater than mine.”

  Xifeng tugged her hair over her disfigured cheek, thanking the gods she’d had the foresight to heal the other one. The physician opened a black case, revealing bottles and metal instruments.

  “Turn your back and bend at the waist, please,” the physician instructed her, tutting at the bloodstains on her tunic. “With permission?”

  Empress Lihua placed a calming hand on Xifeng’s shoulder as Bohai lifted her tunic. There was a sharp, burning sting as he washed her wounds, then applied a cool solution to her torn skin. “This is a salve to help heal the injury. Try to sleep on your side for a week.”

  Xifeng nodded wearily. The movement shifted the hair on her face, and Bohai’s quick eyes saw the scratches on her cheek.

  “Let me give you something for your . . .”

  “Hideous disfigurement?” she whispered.

  Bohai and the Empress exchanged glances. “It’s not as bad as you think, and you are not the first young woman I’ve treated for this.” His manner was so kind, Xifeng pushed aside her hair and her pride. “I can give you something for the pain, but there may be faint scars.”

  Xifeng gasped. “Permanent scars?”

  “If they are, you’ll hardly be able to see them,” Bohai assured her, but the room seemed to tilt and spin once more. She bent her head, heartsick at the damage Lady Sun had caused and ashamed of the way Bohai and the Empress regarded her with pity. She barely heard his instructions as he pressed a small tin into her hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as the physician turned to Empress Lihua.

  “I apologize for not having this ready sooner, Your Majesty. I’ve had to formulate a new draught that would not be harmful.” His gaze flickered to the Empress’s abdomen.

  Xifeng struggled to hide her surprise—she hadn’t noticed the woman’s slightly rounded belly beneath the patterned silks she wore. “My congratulations, Your Majesty,” she said, to which the Empress smiled as she waved away Bohai’s apology.

  “You’ve made me the same tonic for fifteen years, since the birth of my youngest,” she told the physician. “Of course you need time to adjust the prescription. It’s a blessing I’ve carried this baby long enough to need a new formula.”

  “I replaced the black fungus with licorice, ginseng, and crushed longanberries,” Bohai said. “It should be as effective in helping you sleep. How have you been feeling this week?”

  “I ate a bit more than usual today. But I’ve had an ache here.” The Empress laid a wan, trembling hand on her belly. “I haven’t felt the baby moving or kicking as much. Has she been lost?”

  “With your permission, Your Majesty.” Bohai placed his own experienced hands on her belly, pressing here and there. His face was thoughtful as his fingers moved over the material of her robe. “Have you had any bleeding?”

  “Not a drop.”

  “Has the pain been very sharp?”

  The Empress shook her head.

  “The baby has not been lost.”

  Empress Lihua closed her eyes and exhaled very slowly. She held out a hand to Xifeng, who took it, thrilling at her touch. “Then it’s nothing to be concerned about?”

  “We should always be concerned about symptoms, Your Majesty. But not overly so.” Bohai gave her the gentle smile he shared with Akira. Xifeng stared, amazed a father could have his
daughter’s smile and never know it. “You must continue to eat. The baby’s strength depends upon it. And if the ache returns, send your lady for me. I’d rather come and tell you a symptom is not worrisome than not be told and have it be serious.” He bid them good night and left.

  “Are you all right?” the Empress asked Xifeng when they were alone. “Don’t fret, my dear. A few scars will not change how beautiful you are.”

  Xifeng shook her head in misery. The Empress didn’t understand; none of them did. With one swipe of her claws, Lady Sun had ruined everything. She had ensured the Emperor would not look at Xifeng again. Surely the destiny written in her stars would now change, now that His Majesty had seen the blood and scratches that ravaged her beauty. He would not want a marked, flawed woman for his queen.

  “All this because I spoke to the Emperor. Without knowing him,” she added quickly. “I didn’t mean to show disrespect. I didn’t know I should have been kneeling at his feet.”

  An unseen enemy lurks . . . the Fool.

  Lady Sun had done everything Xifeng expected the Fool to do. But there were two players in this game, and she would not sit back and wail and weep. She had come to the palace to seize her fate with both hands. All she needed now was to show the concubine she had made an enemy of the worst possible person. She had to strike before Lady Sun made her next move.

  A tremor ran through her hand. The wound from Guma had vanished, and these would as well if she could find some lifeblood. It would be simple to find something small and weak in the gardens. But to take yet another life for her own benefit . . . She could not. She must not. Xifeng pictured the tengaru queen’s fathomless eyes when she had delivered her warning.

  “Lady Sun would be jealous of the Emperor’s horse if she could.” Empress Lihua rose and paced the room, brow furrowed as she made the sign of the Dragon Lords. “I won’t leave you at her mercy. Starting tomorrow, I’d like you to serve in my household alone. I will inform Madam Hong and she will find a suitable occupation for you.”