by Zoe Marriott
“Why have you detained this man here?” he demanded. “Did he not inform you that he was a corporal of the Imperial Forces, and my aide-de-camp?”
“Sir – I – we didn’t…” the sergeant stammered. With what seemed to be a great effort, he sat up, squaring his shoulders. “Sir, we didn’t believe him. He has no official papers, looks like a vagabond – and he had a horse worth at least a hundred gold coins. We thought him a thief.”
“Unacceptable,” the Young General snapped. “I shall speak with your superior officers. Later. This man has been on a mission of the most vital importance to the war effort, and you have already delayed his return too long. Come, Corporal!”
He swept from the room. I scurried after, thanking my ancestors that Wu Jiang had the sense to have spies among the guardsmen.
An hour later, I was tearing gratefully into my first decent meal since the one I had stolen from Feng Shi Chong, seated on a cushion on the floor of the Young General’s large but rather bare quarters in the barracks. After a thorough scrubbing using the officers’ facilities – cleared for me on Wu Jiang’s orders – a generous application of soothing bruise balm – supplied by the army surgeons, without question, also on Wu Jiang’s orders – and a fresh uniform, I felt like an entirely different person from the ragged urchin who had slunk up to the city walls that morning.
“I can hardly believe it,” Wu Jiang said. His fingers danced with uncharacteristic restlessness over the papers I had given him, spread out across his desk. “Do you realize that you are the first person ever to escape from Feng Shi Chong? That you’re the only person who has ever seen his base and lived to tell of it?”
“Barely,” I reminded him, around a mouthful of soup.
His face tightened. “Don’t.”
“Sir.” I stopped, took a deep breath and began again. “Wu Jiang. I’m sorry. But it was my duty. You know that you would have done the same in my place.”
He shook his head, brushing a hand over his beard. Then, with an obvious effort, he forced his lips to curve. “I don’t think I could have played the role of the emperor quite so convincingly.”
There was no sign at all of his elusive dimple. My heart squeezed. “You’d look rather fetching in a crown, I think.”
The feeble joke did not lighten his soberness. He began to roll the papers up. “You did more than well. This intelligence is priceless. At long last we have the advantage over him.”
“Not if we don’t act fast,” I said. “I imagine that he and his army are racing right behind me.”
“Then I’ll be ready for them, by the heavens,” Wu Jiang swore. “I will be ready.”
“We,” I reminded him.
Wu Jiang paused in the act of tucking the papers into his scarlet sash. “We.”
In an abrupt movement, he stood from behind his desk, crossed the room and knelt beside me. I hastily put down my bowl of soup, holding myself still as he reached out to lay one large, warm hand on the side of my neck. His thumb brushed slowly down the line of my throat. When he spoke again, his voice was husky.
“Hua Zhilan – may I – will you do me the honour…”
He wants to kiss me. Do I want to kiss him? I don’t know! What do I say?
“May I see your real face?” he finished.
No. The reaction was as instinctive and all-encompassing as it had ever been. I don’t want to. But I didn’t know how to express that without giving offence. How could I, when the reason for my resistance was a mystery even to myself?
The pause drew out awkwardly. His lips flattened, but he nodded, removing his hand from my neck. “Very well. Soon. When this is all over.”
And without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss – my second kiss – to my mouth. I gasped into the touch, and felt his lips curve again against mine. When he drew back his dimple was in evidence at last.
“Up!” he said, leaping to his feet in a blaze of energy. “We must see the emperor.”
This time, Wu Fen received us in the splendour of the official halls of the Centre of the Universe, among priceless artefacts and the massed ranks of the foremost figures of court. Even in my own splendour – a hastily altered dress uniform with gilding on the chest guard and vambraces, and my very first crimson cloak, attached with bronze clasps at the shoulders – I felt small and insignificant, and glaringly out of place. The curious stares and barely muffled whispers of curiosity from the onlookers as Wu Jiang and I approached the seven steps leading to the Dragon Throne didn’t help.
You have faced the Leopard. Are you really going to allow these people, who could no more harm you than a flock of butterflies, to intimidate you?
I raised my chin. Without the need to consult a mirror, I knew that the hollow cheeks, assorted cuts and slowly fading bruises that decorated my bare face were all in place on the shadow one. They had been from the moment I rewove it on approach to the city gates. That was more of a comfort to me than the borrowed finery. I must look like a soldier back from the wars – and that was what I was.
“Now, remember,” the Young General muttered to me from one corner of his mouth, lips barely moving. “News of the ambush has been suppressed as much as possible to avoid panic. Too many prominent figures died for us to keep it entirely secret from the court but, officially, it never happened. You mustn’t directly refer to it. Follow my lead.”
I froze mid-step, then had to scurry to keep up. How on earth was I supposed to explain what had happened without referring to the attack on the emperor? And why hadn’t he told me this before? I shrugged my shoulders restively in annoyance.
We were now close enough to watch the emperor as she watched us. I swallowed hard. No mere riding outfit today, and no informality. She wore a gown of glowing white, embroidered with scarlet, cut low on her snowy breast. Her hair was bound up in the cross style, with three great combs of coral and gold holding it in place. A delicate painted peony decorated the centre of her brow, red to match her lips. She sat so still, and her expression was so serene, that she seemed a part of the golden throne she occupied – a flawless image of an immortal, with thirteen imperial five-clawed dragons writhing around her, eager to do her bidding.
It was almost impossible to reconcile her with the woman I had seen sweating, shaking and afraid, hiding in a hole in the ground.
“You may address her Imperial Majesty,” a palace official intoned, bowing.
Wu Jiang went down to his knee at the base of the seven steps, and I followed suit, pressing my lips together to hide my grunt of pain as the still swollen joint protested. He recited the formal address to his aunt, and finally moved on to the reason for our visit.
“I present to you one who has served the army and the empire with the greatest courage and honour, and who we both had the sadness to believe had perished in his service until today. Most honourable aunt, Corporal Hua Zhi has returned.”
There was a faint murmur of interest at my name. I didn’t know if it was because of my father, or if some here knew the true tale of what I had done.
The emperor’s hand made a slight sign.
“You may rise,” the palace official told us.
As I struggled to my feet, the emperor looked in my direction. Her face was more of a mask than my own, and I wished I could properly see her eyes. “Hua Zhi, I am gladdened that you still live. If what General Wu says is true, then we shall soon enter the final battle with the would-be usurper and traitor called Feng Shi Chong. In reward for your service, I now promote you to the position of captain of the Imperial Forces, and give you command of a company of your own, whom you shall have leave to handpick. You shall be on the front lines in the defence of the City of Endless Serenity, and will no doubt bring your house and the empire much glory thereby.”
I know that my face – both my faces – must have lit up like fireworks in the night sky. The emperor’s scarlet lips twitched in response, and I thought it was as much of a smile as she would allow herself here. Wu Jiang sucked in a breath as though h
e had been punched in the gut, jaw clenching. His hands opened and closed. But he said nothing.
The emperor’s gaze moved to him. She paused for a moment, as if perturbed by his obvious agitation, then went on. “Most honourable nephew. You too have earned great honour by your courage and loyalty, and deserve to be rewarded appropriately. In light of your extraordinary service, I hereby elevate you to the rank of Royal Duke of Wu, and confer upon you the responsibility of regent. You are now my son’s foremost guardian. Should I be taken prematurely from the earthly realm to my place among the stars, you shall protect and guide him until he is old enough to ascend the Dragon Throne and take up his place as Son of Heaven. In recognition of this new role, you shall retire from the Imperial Forces immediately after the Leopard is defeated.”
Wu Jiang stood like a stone beside me. His face had lost all colour and expression, and his fists were shaking. I bit my lip. She was effectively sidelining him.
He would be forced to give up the role for which he had trained his entire life, in order to – what? Play politics here at court? Dance attendance on the spoiled little prince? He would hate it. He was a warrior, not a courtier.
Then he turned to me, and I was shaken by the look in his eyes. It was not anger, or devastation – but something fiercer, darker. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
He turned back to the emperor, and in the split second before he opened his mouth again, I knew what he was going to do. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t do a thing.
“I am honoured beyond any measure by the privilege you have conferred upon me, Imperial Majesty. I accept with joy and humility. But before the promotion of Hua Zhi is written into official record, I must make a confession. I have been guilty of a deception on this soldier’s behalf. Hua Zhi has no right to the rank of captain, or to serve in the Glorious Brotherhood at all. Hua Zhi, in fact, does not exist. The one before you is Hua Zhilan. A girl.”
A babble of surprise and outrage burst among the courtiers. The palace official at the foot of the steps visibly recoiled from me, almost falling. And for the first time since we had entered the halls of the Centre of the Universe, I saw a real expression on the emperor’s face. It was blank astonishment. Total disbelief. Her lips formed a perfect circle as her eyes jumped from Wu Jiang to me.
I cringed, shrinking down into myself under a dark, crushing wave of shame. My armour was too tight and too heavy, my shadow face was strangling me, I could not breathe. Dear ancestors, no. Take me away. Not this, anything but this.
I wanted, for the second time in my life, to die.
The Young General did not flinch from the uproar. His eyes remained fixed on Wu Fen, face resolute.
“Is this … some kind of jest?” the emperor demanded, and by the end of the sentence her voice had gone from unsure to icy, her hands clutching like claws at the arms of the throne.
My own hands rose, unthinking, to clasp at my waist. I bowed my head. My gaze fixed, insensibly, upon the polished, upturned tips of my boots against the marble inlaid floor. I didn’t dare look up, couldn’t bear to look up. It was a woman’s posture.
“Imperial Majesty, I am entirely in earnest,” Wu Jiang responded calmly. “Hua Zhilan is the oldest daughter of our great former general Hua Zhou – who was crippled in the Battle of the Thousand Steps in defence of Emperor Gao Zi. When the call to war came…” And without any sign of chagrin, without a hesitation or a stumble, Wu Jiang smoothly unfolded my story – every secret I had told him, that he had promised faithfully to keep – as if it were nothing more than a fireside tale recited for the amusement of the court.
He painted a fine picture of me as a chaste, virtuous and noble maiden, noted that a boy with my banner-breaking gifts would have felt called to serve the empire in its time of need as I had, reminded the emperor that I had saved his life at least three times, and compared me once again to Dou Xianniang.
The tale, the tale Wu Jiang had made of me, of my life, came to an end. Wu Jiang fell silent. But the halls themselves were anything but quiet. The walls rang with voices, raised in jeers, concern and confusion. Among the tangled tapestry of words I heard the amber-robed palace official speak, not overly loud, but with crystal clarity, “The girl must have been his whore, of course.”
I squeezed my eyes closed.
“Enough!” The emperor’s voice crackled like breaking ice, echoing through the vast vaults of the halls. The courtiers became instantly still. “Wu Jiang,” she said into the silence. “You have been a party to this charade so far. What is your aim in exposing Hua Zhi – Zhilan, to me now?”
“I do not wish to cast any shadow upon this young woman’s character,” Wu Jiang said.
Too late, too late, too late…
“But although her service to Your Imperial Majesty has been remarkable so far, she is not fit to command a company in such a vital battle. My hope is that I may call upon your wisdom and mercy, and request that Hua Zhilan should be pardoned. Allow her to return home to her family as one who has fulfilled their military duty would. But if that is not your will, if you wish to punish her for her lie – then I ask that I should be punished, too, as an equal partner in the deception. She could not have succeeded without my connivance.”
Oh, how kind, how very kind of him, I thought bitterly, staring down at my shoes again. To attempt to shield me by taking credit even for my perfidy.
“Hua Zhilan.”
I started at the emperor’s sharp snap of my name. My neck seemed to fight me, muscles twanging, bones grinding, as I forced myself at last to look up. What would I see? Condemnation? Contempt? Hatred?
But the emperor’s eyes rested on me without visible expression. Her hands had returned to her lap. I waited.
“Have you anything to say in your defence?”
A million things. As many excuses as there were stars in the sky. A desperate plea for understanding. A passionate cry for forgiveness. I only wanted to serve you. I only wanted to prove that I could do it. I love you. I love my empire. I wanted to be valuable to you.
I wanted others to see me for who I really was.
Don’t you see that?
Can’t you, of all people, see me?
Wordlessly, I shook my head.
I thought something in her eyes hardened. She stared at me for another endless breath, then inclined her head. “Very well. In light of the exemplary service you have rendered, and my nephew’s words on the purity of your character and intentions, I will pardon you. Return home to your father, Hua Zhilan, if that is where you are needed.”
Her tone implied that she doubted very much Hua Zhilan was needed anywhere at all. She made another sign at the palace official, who shook himself, averted his eyes pointedly, and announced: “This audience is over! Please leave at once!”
Twenty-nine
he emperor was gone. The officials were gone. The courtiers and noblemen were gone. Only Wu Jiang and I remained in the great halls now, and the vast space felt as cold and silent as a long-abandoned tomb, peopled only by the dry bones of my ambitions and hopes.
I stood, frozen, still gazing down at my own feet. My feet in the soldier’s boots that they no longer needed – that they no longer had the right to wear.
Hua Zhi has no right to the rank of captain.
Hua Zhi does not exist.
The one before you is a girl.
“I’m sorry,” the Young General said.
It was the second time he had said that. I had no answer. There was nothing to be said. It was all over. Everything I had gone through, everything I had achieved. All for nothing. Nothing. A hollow, white void yawned inside me. Once that emptiness had been filled with fear. Now the thing that I feared above all else had come to pass. There was nothing left. Nothing to feel but emptiness. Emptiness, shame and sorrow.
“I had to do it,” he said. There was no pleading in his tone. A hint of sadness, yes, but mostly firm certainty. “The battlefield – a real battlefield – is no place for you. This had gone on l
ong enough. If I had let you fight without me, your secret would have been exposed, and you would have been shamed, Hua Zhilan, and dishonoured. And all your men with you. This was my only choice.”
Did he want an argument? A debate? Something he could work with, twist and push and manipulate until he made me see it his way? Once again, I shook my head wordlessly, and made to turn away.
His hand caught at my wrist. Gently but inexorably, he forced me to face him. “Look at me. Speak to me.”
I did neither.
“Rage and shout if you must, but at least do me the courtesy of acknowledging my existence!” Temper was rising in his voice now. “Can’t you see how much I risked for you today? I was willing to die with you, if that was what she decreed.”
“You knew she would never order that,” I said wearily. I made no attempt to break free of his hold. What did it matter now? There was no one to see him handling me so familiarly, and even if there had been, how could they think less of me than they already did? The tale of the Young General’s mistress – a girl! Pretending to be a soldier! Can you believe it! – would be all over court before the marble terraces outside had finished ringing with the courtiers’ footsteps, and all over the city before curfew was called.
My family would probably receive word of it before they saw me again.
I had wanted to save them, to protect them and do them honour. Now everything would be ruined. Our name would be destroyed. My mother would never recover from the shame and my father… Oh, Father. I failed you. Father, I am so sorry.
Wu Jiang twitched my reply away like a restive horse flicking off a fly. “You don’t know her as well as you think.”
I looked away, unable to stand the sight of his face. I trusted you. “I never asked you to risk anything. I never asked for anything at all.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You were the one who made all the promises. And broke them.”
My voice was dead and flat, emotionless. My words didn’t even tremble. I wondered if my face was doing that thing Yang Jie had hated so much, the blank thing, my illusions simply unable to convey the depth of my feelings.