Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  Jun looked delighted. “A splendid child, Shiro. Will he come to me?”

  The boy stared wide-eyed at the Emperor’s open arms. Upon encouragement from his father, he toddled forward on his plump little legs and allowed Jun to place him upon his knee. He darted a timid glance at Xifeng.

  “This is the Empress, little one,” the Emperor told him, and Shiro raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “You think her lovely, don’t you? You can’t take your eyes from her, and neither can any other man in this room.”

  Xifeng gave a soft laugh of thanks, but she felt disconcerted under the child’s unwavering stare. Yes, he most certainly shared his eyes with his mother—they even held the relentless judgment Xifeng remembered in Akira’s. She sipped her sweet rice wine to hide her discomfort. When she turned back, Koichi had already warmed up to Jun and held out a small wooden toy.

  “There, we’re friends already.” The Emperor was the image of a doting father as he accepted the toy, making sounds as he pushed it across the tabletop for the boy’s amusement.

  “A glimpse into your future, perhaps,” Shiro said to Xifeng, who smiled graciously.

  “How are you, my friend? You look well.”

  “Not as well as you do. You’ll be one of those beautiful women who never seem to age,” he said gallantly, though his eyes held no joy. “I’m well enough. Blessed to have my boy, though I never imagined I’d have to raise him alone.”

  Xifeng touched his hand in sympathy. “I lit a candle for Akira in the shrine yesterday. Has it truly been two years since she passed away?”

  “It seems an age.” Shiro sighed. “Is it silly of me to stay instead of bringing my son home to Kamatsu? Hideki writes often, urging me to return. Our king is displeased with me for resigning. But I have nothing there. My family has never cared about me and I feel closer to Akira here.” He watched Jun lift a giggling Koichi into the air. “I’d like my boy to be close to his mother.”

  “Then it is not silly. You must do what your heart feels is right. And you have a home and a good position here among His Majesty’s ministers.”

  “And you? Does your heart feel this is right?” He lifted an open hand, indicating the opulent court, the banquet tables groaning under the weight of food, and the music and dancing.

  Xifeng watched as Koichi ran the little wooden toy along the Emperor’s sleeve. “I once feared I had no heart left,” she said quietly. “But I hear it speaking to me from time to time, and I believe this is what it wants. A place where I belong.”

  Shiro’s keen eyes observed her for a moment, and he looked as if he wanted to say something else. But his small son ran to him, throwing his arms around his father’s neck, and Shiro grinned instead. “Thank you for your indulgence with my rowdy boy, Your Majesty.”

  “You’re a lucky man, Shiro.” Jun glanced sideways at Xifeng. “And so am I.”

  The former ambassador inclined his head before returning to his table, still carrying his son. Xifeng watched him go, feeling both comforted and self-conscious in his presence. What must he think of her, to have so quickly attached herself to another man when Wei had loved her all his life?

  But that is the privilege of an Empress, she decided. I can do as I like, and nothing anyone else thinks truly matters.

  All evening, every person who approached to bow to the Emperor acknowledged Xifeng as his Empress. Not a single one mentioned or seemed to remember Lihua, and as triumphant as she felt, Xifeng couldn’t help feeling regret for the woman she had once esteemed. She thought daily of Lihua’s promise to always watch over Jade and steer her from evil.

  But she can’t be unhappy about where I sent the girl, she thought. The monastery was on the southern edge of the Great Forest, close to Serpents’ Bay. Surely Lihua would have approved of the beauty and splendor of the location, so suitable for the devout.

  And it was the way of the world, was it not? The old dragon died to make way for the new, and the sun set to rise again on another day. Lihua’s time had passed, and a brilliant dawn had begun at the court of the Emperor, a dawn as glorious as the cards had promised.

  All Xifeng had left to do was wait for the night to pass.

  The ladies-in-waiting woke her before sunrise on a warm spring morning. Xifeng followed them into the bath chamber, where the servants had filled her porcelain tub with fresh water from the Great Forest, heated until piping hot. The steam rose in translucent swirls, making her smile as she thought of another bath she would have tonight in the hot springs, when all the court believed her to be fast asleep in His Majesty’s arms.

  She stepped into the tub, relishing the heat of the water. Her women poured lotions and tonics over her skin: attar of night-blooming desert roses from Surjalana, lily-water pressed from a thousand white virgin blooms, and creamy milks to smooth her skin. It was a ceremonial bath intended to wash away her impurities and fully immerse her in the waters of her kingdom. Xifeng emerged, dripping and bright pink from the scalding water, thinking her body certainly felt cleansed. As for impurities . . . well, that remained to be seen.

  She sat comfortably in a gilded chair while her ladies powdered her skin with fragrant rose-gold dust, making her gleam in the light like an ancient goddess. They attended to her hands, placing long, lethal-looking nail guards of pure gold on each finger, and pinned her inky hair into an elaborate display. She chose a dozen priceless ornaments to complete her ensemble: combs of glinting gold, fresh yellow flowers twisted around jeweled hairpins, forest-green jade brooches, and a few pieces of enameled ivory, which had been in Lihua’s family for generations.

  Her wardrobe was equally resplendent: the finest woven silks in every shade of crimson and saffron, rich hues befitting the most powerful woman on the continent. The materials draped beautifully over her body and trailed after her in a shimmering wake, ensuring no lady-in-waiting would be able to walk closer than ten feet behind her.

  Today, Xifeng would walk alone.

  Kang and two court officials came when she was fully dressed. They led her and her cluster of ladies and eunuchs across the Empress’s walkway to the center of the Imperial Palace. Her hair ornaments made a lovely, bell-like sound as she moved, the swishing of her silks like a river flowing to its destination. The procession arrived at the gates of the throne room, from which Xifeng could hear a low hush of voices.

  One of the officials handed her a stick of sandalwood with a flame on one end. Pots of fragrant incense had been laid in a long line, starting from the door and leading all the way to the throne that would be hers. Beside each pot was a relic or likeness of one of the Dragon Lords. Xifeng bowed to each one, murmuring a short prayer she had learned in the weeks leading up to this ceremony, then lit the incense. This took some time, as there were dozens of pots lining the luscious crimson carpet that stretched deep inside the throne room.

  Emperor Jun awaited her there, sitting on the larger of two gold thrones that shimmered in the sunlight. Xifeng finished lighting the last of the incense and handed the stick back to a court official. She lifted the hem of her robes and carefully ascended three of the nine steps leading up to the thrones, kneeling on the scarlet pillow. She lowered her forehead to the step above hers, hearing the Emperor’s gold robes rustle as he rose from his seat. The entire court fell silent as he intoned a solemn prayer to the Dragon Lords.

  “We swear to serve you by the rising of the sun, by the gleaming of the moon. We are your children and your heart, and you are our lifeblood and the very air we breathe,” Jun said gravely, ending the prayer. “In your wisdom and magnificence, we hold faith.”

  “In your wisdom and magnificence, we hold faith,” the court murmured.

  Xifeng rose, and an official moved the pillow up three steps, at which she knelt once more. This time, the Emperor’s chief adviser recited a prayer. When he had finished his oration, Xifeng ascended to the top of the platform, where she knelt directly in fron
t of the Emperor.

  “I give Feng Lu and the Kingdom of the Great Forest an Empress who will serve with all she has.” He lifted the elaborate crown that rested on the throne beside his. It consisted of a thick ring of pure gold, with five jagged points topped with priceless jewels. “I give Feng Lu and the Kingdom of the Great Forest a queen who is a daughter of the trees and the wind.” The weight of the gold touched her head, then rested heavily upon it. “Rise, my Empress, and rule at my side.”

  The eunuchs, ministers, and courtiers sang in a low chant as she rose, and one of the officials murmured a fervent prayer as he and several others scattered jasmine buds over her.

  The Emperor and Empress each knelt and bowed nine times to the thrones.

  Xifeng caught Jun’s eye as they both rose once more, and saw the corner of his mouth lift. They sat side by side upon the golden thrones as the court continued chanting and the official continued praying.

  The ceremony lasted for hours more, with music and speeches and a procession given by the noble children of the court. But Xifeng felt as if she could have sat on that throne at the Emperor’s side forever. She felt the weight of the crown upon her head and the cool gold of the throne beneath her, and as she surveyed the court around them, she felt a lightness in her, a certainty that she had never belonged anywhere more.

  At last, at last, the wind seemed to sing in the trees outside.

  The court moved to the banquet hall for the great meal. After all of the solemn prayers and speeches, the mood was much lighter, more joyous.

  Xifeng felt that when people bowed and made respectful speeches to her that they might have actually meant them. She smiled at Jun, who grinned broadly back at her, and she could have cried for the girl she had once been.

  That girl had feared, above all, a life of imprisonment in Guma’s dreary town, a life in which the fortune of the cards had gone to waste. That girl had once crossed the Great Forest and met a tengaru queen who had seen her as more than she was. That girl had once loved a poor boy as much as she could love anyone, and dreamed of a life in the sun somewhere far away.

  Now she wore the crown of the Imperial Empress upon her brow.

  Now she slipped her hand into the hand of the most powerful man on the continent.

  Now she watched as the court ate and drank, danced and sang, in her honor. Hers alone.

  The Emperor’s last remaining stepson had been sent to his death in a faraway land. The Emperor’s daughter had been exiled to lead an existence for which Xifeng cared nothing. And as for the two favored concubines, she had destroyed them both. Jun had sent away every last concubine belonging to Lihua’s first husband and vowed never to take another, for there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his beautiful new Empress.

  She reigned supreme, and there was no one, absolutely no one, left to challenge her.

  Was it any wonder that after the festivities, Xifeng retired to the Emperor’s chambers with a heart as light as she had ever known? Jun waited for her in the vast, magnificent room lit by a hundred red candles, on the mammoth bed draped with fresh peonies. She enjoyed his eyes on her in these moments before, taking her time in letting down her hair and pulling each rich ornament from it, like jewels adrift from a black river. She ran her fingers through the strands, humming as she slipped on a robe the color of desert sand, so fine it was almost transparent. In the full-length bronze mirror, her soft, bare body looked like a gold-and-peach fruit wrapped delicately in a webbed skin.

  On her way to Jun, she paused at the windows to enjoy the sight of the forest kingdom—her forest kingdom. Her first night as the Empress of all these lands, as the mistress of every twig, leaf, and branch, and every singing stream and cave and mountain.

  But it was not the cool, clean night air of an early spring that greeted her. It was not the whispering treetops of a peaceful dark wood settling into sleep. It was not a placid midnight sky dusted over with the stars, the eyes of the heavens.

  It was not just those.

  For the Great Forest was ablaze with a strange and fearsome light. In the courtyard below, she heard the hum of people rushing outside to look at the trees. They pointed and shouted to each other at the mystical, extraordinary sight, their voices filled with confusion and awe as they swiveled their heads.

  Xifeng held a hand to her heart as she stared, and the lanterns seemed to stare back at her: one thousand glittering, dazzling white lanterns that had somehow found themselves hanging in the trees of the Great Forest. They clung to the topmost branches, too high for any human to ever climb, and swung joyfully in the breeze, their light reflecting infinitely off the leaves, turning each tree into an enormous lantern in its own right.

  And she knew, as surely as if Empress Lihua’s spirit had appeared before her and spoken to her, that these were the thousand lanterns that vowed to a lonely princess that love and justice still awaited her. These were the thousand lanterns hung by one whose love endured even in death, in loss, and in defeat, whose unwavering devotion would lead the way. These were the thousand lanterns of a mere fable, a story told by a sad-eyed queen whose time to die had come.

  The lanterns glowed in Xifeng’s eyes, and they shone in all their ominous beauty.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  However often I dreamed of this moment, there were times I honestly never thought I’d get here. As the saying goes, “it takes a village,” and it’s thanks to a great number of people that I kept going.

  First and foremost, I want to extend love and gratitude to my family, especially my mom, Mai, to whom this book is dedicated. Her support these past few years has meant everything to me and her generosity and encouragement helped this book finally get written. Thank you for being the kind of mother whose love inspires an entire book series. To Jon and Justin, my favorite brothers and personal cheerleaders: thanks for the laughs and for always believing in me! I love you guys!

  Lots of people brag about their agents, but I don’t think it’s exaggerating at all to say that Tamar Rydzinski is a rock star. Two years ago, she saw something in me that no one else did. It’s because of her that my dream came true, and I trust, respect, and admire her with all my heart and soul. Thanks for fighting for me, Tamar, and being my advocate and friend through every struggle and triumph! Thank you also to Laura Dail, everyone at LDLA (especially the fabulous interns who read my book), and my film agents, Jon Cassir and Sarah Luciano at CAA.

  This book would not exist in its current form without Brian Geffen, my wise and brilliant editor, who loved and understood Xifeng from the very first. His sharp eye and unflinching honesty made my story what it is today, and his kindness and patience helped smooth the rocky transition to authorhood. I’m proud to call you my editor, Brian, and also my friend! And thank you to the wonderful folks at Philomel Books and Penguin Young Readers for their hard work and support, especially Michael Green, my Publisher; Laurel Robinson and Janet Rosenberg, my copyeditors; Jennifer Chung, my interior book designer; Lindsey Andrews, my cover designer; and Jacey, my cover artist.

  I’ve been blessed with the most wonderful group of writer friends: Marisa Hopkins, who has been there for me since day one and whose cheer and gorgeous artwork keep me going; Melody Marshall, my dear Frodo, with whom I would gladly climb Mount Doom again and again; Erin Fletcher, whose optimism and friendship I cherish; Dianne Salerni, a true-blue mentor I can count on for sound advice; and Lola Alessi, whose talent and beautiful spirit brighten my darkest days. I love you all very dearly.

  Thank you to Brenda Drake and the Pitch Wars community, who inspire me to pay it forward every chance I get. Brenda’s contests not only brought Tamar into my life, but also two important friends and mentors: Stephanie Garber and N. K. Traver, who nurtured me from baby writer to full-fledged author with pep talks, wise counsel, and shoulders to cry on. Steph and Nat, we’ve been through a lot together, but you always believed this day would come for me. You are my h
eroes.

  Much love to everyone in the blogging community, who are too many to name but no less dear to me. In particular, thanks to my earliest critique partners, Sierra Godfrey and Don Hammons, for giving me the push I needed to begin.

  If the writing community were Hogwarts, the Kidlit Authors of Color group would be Gryffindor House, hands down. They are the most courageous people I know and fight the good fight every single day, educating others about diversity in publishing. A special shout-out to Tara Sim, Heidi Heilig, Angie Thomas, Kaye M., Claribel Ortega, Shveta Thakrar, Meredith Ireland, Cindy Pon, Lori Lee, S. Jae-Jones, and Catrina Lim, who are women I want to be like when I grow up.

  Endless gratitude to: Emily X. R. Pan, Wendy Xu, and Eileen Lee for looking over my Chinese name pronuniciations, Alice Fanchiang for her beta read and her wonderful friendship over the years, and C. B. Lee and Riley Redgate, my thoughtful and astute sensitivity readers. They all did a marvelous job helping me unveil the world of Feng Lu in a careful, culturally respectful manner.

  Thanks also go to: my Ireland Writer Tours friends, especially the inimitable Susan Spann, who gave me the idea for the last scene in the book; the folks on Twitter who keep me afloat every day with their kindness, particularly Erin Bay, Akshaya Raman, Janella Angeles, Kat Cho, and Patrice Caldwell; and my beloved Lucky 13s, including Heather Kaczynski, Austin Gilkeson, Mara Fitzgerald, Jess Rubinkowski, Rebecca Caprara, Kati Gardner, Jordan Villegas, and Kevin van Whye.

  Hugs and thanks to all of the saintly people who listened to me rant and vent along the way. They are too many to name, but notably include: Nancy Bruckman, who supplied me with ARCs, publishing expertise, and positivity; Alegria and Matt Cohen, who never forget to ask how my writing is going; Patrick Long, for the advice and support you gave me during our lunch dates on the quad; Johanne Osias Bernard, Will Bernard, and Megan Benjaa, who rooted for me all the way and wholeheartedly embraced my stories; and Theresa “TC” Baker, who has been my friend since the third grade, for reading and loving my previous manuscripts.