Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  “You speak of the conflicts in the east?”

  Emperor Jun raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I do. What do you know about that?”

  “Only that it afflicts Dagovad and that the Great Forest is aiding their queen, thus remaining in her good graces.”

  The corners of his mouth turned slowly upward. “How do you know of such things?”

  “I listen to the eunuchs talk at mealtimes.”

  He let out a great laugh that sent more than one glance in their direction, including Empress Lihua’s. Xifeng felt oddly proud and happy to have pleased him, considering he was a person she didn’t know at all well. But that, she supposed, was a king’s power.

  “Will a new treaty be drawn to settle the dispute over the Unclaimed Lands?” she asked, and he had opened his mouth to respond when a great shattering sound echoed over the whole terrace. A woman cried out, and the music and chatter silenced immediately.

  Xifeng spun to see a tray of bone cups scattered across the stones, wine having splashed all over the guests, including the Empress in her priceless silks. The Crown Prince stood in front of his mother with his hand still raised, and it took Xifeng a moment to realize he had knocked the tray of wine right out of the servant’s hands. His face was red with anger as he looked down at Lady Sun, who stood close enough for him to strike her. For a moment, with his chest heaving and his hand in the air, Xifeng believed he would.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Emperor Jun demanded, stalking furiously toward the Crown Prince. “What have you done?”

  “What have I done?” the prince repeated, eyes glittering with hatred. “I have protected my mother, Your Majesty, as is my duty.” The crowd murmured at the sword-sharp edge of his voice, which was not lost on the Emperor.

  “By your tone, I see you’re implying I was not doing mine.” Emperor Jun spoke calmly, and though he moved toward his wife, he looked at his concubine. “What has Lady Sun done to you that you should waste this good wine?”

  “It isn’t good wine when it has been poisoned,” the Crown Prince said, prompting gasps from the crowd. “I saw her standing near my mother’s cup. I saw her raise her sleeve.”

  “Your Majesty,” Lady Sun sputtered, her face stark white. For the first time since Xifeng had known her, she seemed at a loss for words, and Xifeng reveled in her discomfort. Her little boy stood clinging to her robes with wide eyes. “I would never . . . The Crown Prince . . .”

  “I have it on good authority that you have been gathering poisons from the Imperial physician’s stores. I don’t blame Bohai, as he has loved and served my mother well all his life,” the prince said icily. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, for causing this scene, but I will not stand idly by when this woman seeks to supplant my mother as Empress.”

  Xifeng clasped her hands together with delight, though to anyone else, it would seem a gesture of deep concern. She fixed her gaze on Lady Sun’s face; she wanted to remember the concubine’s expression of shock and humiliation for a long time to come.

  “When my mother’s wine came,” the Crown Prince continued, his voice shaking with fury, “I noticed that this woman made certain to stand nearby and hover over it. The gods only know what she has put into the Empress’s cup.”

  “You lie!” Lady Sun hissed, turning desperately to the Emperor. “He lies. I would never dare poison her. Believe me, my love, please . . .”

  Empress Lihua stiffened at the term of endearment addressed to her husband.

  But Emperor Jun ignored them both, focusing his attention on his eldest stepson. From her vantage point, Xifeng could only see his profile, but it was enough to see that the man with the jovial manner had disappeared. In his place stood a king of cold and ruthless anger. “Where is your proof?” he asked, and though he spoke quietly, his voice rang out through the crowd. “If I have her searched and I don’t find evidence of poison, what will that tell me about you, my son?”

  The Crown Prince, to his credit, did not quake. He lifted his chin and looked his stepfather directly in the eyes. “It will tell you I at least sought to protect what is yours.”

  Several of the ladies-in-waiting covered their mouths, horrified and fascinated, while the eunuchs fluttered their fans faster. Kang stood among them, his simper gone for once.

  Emperor Jun came closer. “No. It will tell me you dared to criticize me. Speak against Lady Sun and you speak against me. You accuse her of treason, of the darkest deed against a sovereign, but she represents me. I chose her, you see.”

  Xifeng’s stomach dropped at the triumph on Lady Sun’s face.

  “I did not intend disrespect to Your Majesty,” said the prince with a flicker of unease, as though he were starting to doubt himself.

  “And yet you accused my concubine before all the court without a shred of evidence. You might have spoken to me confidentially.” The Emperor tilted his head, surveying the younger man. He took a menacing step closer, then another. “Your brash behavior tells me a different story. It tells me you think little enough of me to insult me before my family and all my court.”

  Xifeng watched them, jaw tensed. The prince had laid bare Lady Sun’s deepest aspiration, the truth everyone else already knew, and still the Emperor would protect her. He would take the concubine’s side without attempting to see his stepson’s reasoning, without considering that his wife’s life might have indeed been in danger.

  Xifeng’s plan had failed. Hopelessly.

  “We will discuss this further in private, as we should have done from the start.” The Emperor clapped his hands for the music to begin once more, but it was several long moments before the courtiers began moving and whispering among themselves again.

  Lady Sun, smiling now, pushed her little boy toward the Emperor. “My love . . .”

  But His Majesty ignored her, his face stony. “Search her,” he said in a low voice to the guards, and the concubine’s jaw dropped as he stormed back inside the palace.

  Xifeng knew the search would come up empty, but still the words were music to her ears, evidence of a crack in the bond between Emperor Jun and his most cherished concubine.

  Lady Sun gasped. “Your Majesty!” she called after his retreating back. She glared at the Crown Prince just in time to see him look at Xifeng. Her eyes moved from him to Xifeng and back, and realization dawned on her features as the guards escorted her through the doors.

  • • •

  To Xifeng’s surprise, the festive air returned as soon as the Emperor and Lady Sun had gone. The guests continued to sip wine and mingle as though nothing had happened. Xifeng wished she too could escape, to reflect in private, but she didn’t want to raise suspicion.

  It wasn’t long before Kang materialized beside her. “Well, that was certainly interesting.”

  “The Emperor knows the prince spoke the truth,” Xifeng said, some of the bitterness in her mouth receding. “Lady Sun hates the Empress and would take her place tomorrow if she could. He was only putting on a show for the court to protect his dignity.” Still, it didn’t sit well that His Majesty—the man destined for her—had defended the Fool. She watched the prince speak a few words to his mother, then retreat back inside.

  “What a delight it was to see Lady Sun whimper and cower so. I wonder who had the ingenious idea to suggest poison to the prince,” he whispered, his voice rippling with glee, but Xifeng didn’t respond. “Lady Meng is staring at you again.”

  The younger concubine stood near the space the prince had vacated, watching Xifeng with undisguised intensity. Xifeng gazed back, her emotions warring between pity and disdain. “She’s just a sad, strange girl who needs something to cling to.”

  “Speaking of something to cling to,” Kang continued in a whisper, “I’ve delivered a message to Wei on your behalf.”

  Her eyes locked with his, the Emperor and Lady Sun vanishing from her mind. “How could you take such a ris
k? Do you want us both killed?”

  “Have a little faith in me, Xifeng. Do you think I’d do anything to endanger you?” He seemed so ruffled that she apologized. “He expects you in the main palace gardens tomorrow night, outside the entrance I took you through on your first day.”

  Xifeng pressed her damp hands against her sides. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, but you can tell me if that’s inconvenient for you,” he said stiffly.

  “I’m sorry, Kang. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I just don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.” She turned back to the river without really seeing it. She and Wei had been apart for two months, ever since their horrible argument at Akira’s house. Had his feelings for her changed in all that time . . . and did she want them to?

  “You worry too much about me. As long as you come unseen, after the Empress’s household has gone to sleep, there isn’t a soul who has to know besides us.” Kang’s eyes danced at her as he returned to his usual good humor. “I’m on guard duty at that entrance for three nights with Chou, who has a weakness for rice wine. He’ll be asleep within the first few sips.”

  “Why does Master Yu allow him to be on guard duty, then?” Xifeng asked, appalled.

  “The useless prune doesn’t know anything about it. Our challenge is how to get you past the guards in the city of women.” Kang chewed on his lower lip. “I have a few ideas . . .”

  Xifeng’s veins hummed with anticipation as she envisioned the hole in the garden. If she could climb the stones jutting out from the wall on her way back, as she had last time, she wouldn’t need to confront the guards at all. “Don’t worry about that. If you can promise to have Chou asleep, I can get there.”

  The eunuch beamed. “For heaven’s sake, don’t let anyone see you.”

  “I’ll have an excuse ready in case anyone does.”

  A soft, lilting melody came from where the court musicians had set up on the terrace. The riverbank was now aglow with the light emanating from the flame-lit boats.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Xifeng said quietly. “I will not forget how you’ve helped me.”

  They watched in silence as the bamboo boats began drifting away on the river. Soon the water was filled with dozens of twinkling lights floating along until at last, one by one, they vanished into the trees.

  The following night, Xifeng waited an hour after the Empress and her ladies had gone to bed. She tossed and turned and ran her fingers over her near-invisible scar, alternately burning with impatience and feeling cold with worry that Wei would find her changed . . . and not for the better. She didn’t know whether she could hide the shameful thoughts poisoning her mind lately.

  “They’re not your thoughts, they’re Guma’s,” he might say.

  But would that argument work now that Xifeng was on her own, far away from her aunt? Would it excuse her cruel hunger for Lady Sun’s suffering? Or her muddled feelings for the Empress’s husband, a man so out of reach, and yet . . .

  Xifeng covered her eyes and let out a slow sigh. The search for poison on the concubine’s person had of course turned up nothing, but still the Emperor had pardoned the Crown Prince. And aside from the fact that Lady Sun hadn’t left her apartments all day—no doubt sulking and embarrassed—it seemed things had gone back to normal. Still, Xifeng had her doubts, remembering His Majesty’s fury. She suspected he wouldn’t let the prince off so easily. She wouldn’t have, in his place.

  There was no sound but the snoring of the others as she slipped on a robe and ducked out of the ladies-in-waiting’s entrance. She took care to stay in the shadows of the building, avoiding the sentries stationed outside Her Majesty’s apartments.

  The night was as clear and lovely as the last. Moonlight shone on the tunnel entrance, where she could make out the outlines of two guards. She crept into the darkness and slipped through the hole in the garden. Though the thick, warm air of the springs called to her, she found her way through the tunnels to the main passageway.

  Kang peered into the darkness, his face anxious in the torchlight.

  “It’s me,” she whispered.

  His shoulders sagged with relief. “I feared Chou had awakened from his drunken stupor. I can give you one hour, but please be back by then.”

  Impulsively, Xifeng kissed his cheek and he reddened with pleasure.

  “Be happy,” he said as he shut the door gently behind her.

  Her earlier worries faded as she stepped back into the evening’s embrace. The lush palace garden soothed her with its arching willow trees, frogs and crickets singing in the reeds of the pond, and the perfume of night-blooming jasmine. The warren of buildings that made up the main palace loomed nearby, and she dared not call out for fear of guards. But no sooner had she reached the shadow of a tree than she felt arms around her and heard Wei’s soft, joyous laugh.

  “It’s you,” she said, in half bliss and half disbelief.

  “It’s me.” He pressed a smile into her hair.

  She clung to him like a drowning woman as he kissed her, his mouth tasting of salt and metal. How could she have forgotten this fire racing through her veins, charging her entire body like a lightning storm? His burning lips moved to her neck, tasting her like he had been starving for weeks, and he gripped her waist as though fearing a stray breeze would take her from him.

  Heavy footsteps rang out across the walkways of the nearest building.

  She tugged at his hand and they raced across the grass.

  “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and she could no more stop the smile on her face than she could the moon shining in the sky. They ran deep into the refuge of the gardens, a jungle of trees, tangled vines, and heavy-headed flowers shielding them from view. A pagoda stood close to the edge of the pond. It was not entirely concealed, for there were pillars instead of walls.

  “There?” Wei asked. “But someone might walk past and see us . . .”

  Xifeng’s only answer was to grin and pull him toward it, and he followed without protest.

  He lifted her in his arms and pressed her against one of the pillars. There was a low bench he had to sidestep, and she enjoyed the image of someone prim and proper sitting there in the afternoon, only to have her and Wei make ferocious love there in the evening. She locked her arms and legs around him, closing her eyes as he crushed his mouth against hers. The skin of her back felt raw as it scraped against the pillar. Tomorrow, there would be bruises, and none of the Empress’s well-bred ladies would guess it as she sat among them, sewing demurely.

  Voices rang out on the palace walkway, and Wei stilled, burying his face into her shoulder. She noticed him shaking uncontrollably as the garden grew quiet once more, and when she realized he was laughing, she had to bite her tongue to keep from joining in.

  He lowered her to the ground, his arms still around her. They leaned against the pillar, foreheads pressed together, his slowing breath warming her face. Xifeng couldn’t believe she had ever forgotten the freckle beneath his eye or the faint scar along his smiling mouth.

  “You kept your promise,” he said. “You said we’d find a way to meet. But how?”

  “I have a eunuch friend.”

  He shook his head. “You always find a way to get what you want.”

  She pulled him even closer to her. “I wish I could take you back to my chamber.”

  “With the Empress only a few rooms away?” He gave her such a funny look that she kissed him, her heart swelling. He shucked his robe, spreading it on the floor and drawing her down beside him. They lay wrapped in each other, staring at the intricate carvings on the roof. “I can’t take you back to where I sleep, either. I share a room with five other soldiers.”

  She traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, and he caught her thumb with a kiss. For the first time since entering the palace, she almost felt like herself again, with Wei beside her. Almost,
but not completely. She shifted and a sliver of moonlight crept over her tunic, just over where the creature slept—or listened in silence. “You haven’t changed at all,” she told Wei, to take her mind from it. “You’re just as I like to think of you. Still that same boy from our village.”

  He pressed his lips between her ear and her neck, and she shivered. “You seem different to me. You’ve always been beautiful, of course, but . . .” He held her away a bit, scanning her face, and some of her dread returned. Could he see, in the dim light, the dark thoughts soiling her mind? Did he know, just by looking at her, what she had allowed the creature to suggest to her, as Lady Sun’s heart glowed in her chest in the mirror-water?

  “I’m well fed now.” She snuggled back against him to hide from his discerning gaze. “Three square meals a day will do that to a woman.”

  He ran his fingers tenderly along her new curves. “That must be it. I wish . . .”

  “What? Tell me.” But even as she urged him, she feared what he might say . . . what he might again ask of her. She saw in his eyes that he too was remembering their fight.

  “I wish we could be like this always.”

  Relieved, she nestled in his arms as he talked about his life in the army, about training and the weapons he’d learned to use: chariots and catapults, crossbows and siege ladders. She closed her eyes, enjoying the familiar rise and fall of his chest. In that moment, she thought she might not have hurt him if he’d asked her to marry him again. She might have said yes and let him sweep her away from kings and destinies and scheming concubines—away from what she both feared and yearned to do to protect herself and him, too.

  “What has life been like for you?” he asked, and it was a long moment before Xifeng knew how to answer. She couldn’t hide her emotion when she told him about the concubines. Wei went rigid when she spoke of the hundred lashes Lady Sun had ordered for her.

  “Even I’ve heard much of her,” he said. “They say she considers herself invincible and quite the Empress. You must be careful not to anger her further.”