Sleep evaded me that night. When we were attacked, a
cold instinct for survival had enveloped me, and I shot our attackers down unflinchingly. But with the merman’s accusations ringing in my ears, doubt wound its way into my heart. Were the dragons in danger? Was King Yanzheng as righteous as he was reputed to be? Was Prince Yanxi’s
admiration of the dragons feigned? No, I thought to myself, he did not seem to be of a duplicitous nature.
It had become a habit for Captain Wenzhi and I to eat together, and I usually enjoyed these moments of quiet companionship. Yet this morning, I picked over the meal listlessly.
“You fought well last night,” he said.
I winced, feeling no pride at his praise, the agonized cries of those struck still echoing through my mind. “Do you
believe any of what the merman said? About King Yanzheng betraying the dragons?”
“No,” he said firmly, with such certainty that a little of my unease dispersed. “The king’s reverence of them is well known. Besides, the dragons were no threat to him.”
“Why do the merfolk believe the governor?” I asked.
“That is a mystery. Governor Renyu has the makings of a tyrant and his ruthless actions last night have only
reinforced that suspicion. It’s possible he gained such
strong support only because the merfolk have been isolated for so long.” He added darkly, “They seem to believe his
every word.”
I lifted a spoonful of congee to my mouth, the grains cooked till they were silken soft, the flavor infused with chicken and herbs. I chewed methodically, as another
question hovered on the tip of my tongue—one I was more hesitant to ask. Looking at him, I found Captain Wenzhi had left his bowl untouched.
“What else is troubling you?” he wanted to know. “Your doubts are written plain upon your face.”
I set the porcelain spoon down, turning to him. “Could you really have done it? All those things you said . . . even exiling the merfolk to the desert?”
“Do you think I could have?” His expression was grave and for some reason, I felt my answer mattered to him.
No, I wanted to say, but I pressed on. “Yesterday, you
spoke of severing limbs and flaying skin so readily, like you meant it.” No battle was without its cruelties, but it felt
wrong to do such a thing to a captured enemy. A helpless one.
“There are parts of my work that I do not care for,” he said in a low voice. “And what you saw yesterday was one of them. Not everything is as straightforward as at the
point of a blade. I’m not proud of what I said, but imagine if I had not, Prince Yanming might have been taken.
Hundreds of soldiers might have died in battle. King
Yanzheng could have been murdered—along with your new friend, Prince Yanxi.”
I started, wondering at his biting tone. Yet Captain Wenzhi’s other words resonated with me. As I myself knew, sometimes we found ourselves in situations where we were forced to deceive against our will, our inclination and hearts.
He continued, as though it was a relief to him to
unburden these thoughts. “The merman cared not for his own safety; threats to himself, he would have ignored. But the lives of his family and friends, he would not treat so
cavalierly.” A tight smile spread across his lips. “And it
helped that the Celestial Emperor is not famed for mercy.”
How well I knew this. I shuddered to recall the emperor’s icy gaze, the dread which had enveloped me at the sight of him. I had no doubt he would eliminate those he believed
were a threat.
“Thank you for telling me this.” I meant it. He had not
needed to explain himself, that he did so was an indication of his trust.
“Thank you for you listening,” he said quietly. “I hope we will always speak like this. That you will share with me any worries you have.”
He picked up his bowl though the congee had gone cool.
We did not speak for the rest of the meal, but I ate with newfound relish, the burden on my conscience eased.
When Captain Wenzhi and I arrived at the Fragrant Coral Palace, an attendant showed us to a room on the highest floor. The windows opened out to the azure sea, ever
shifting and boundless. Rosewood chairs were arranged around a large table, carved from a single slab of wood.
Prince Yanxi and six other immortals were clustered around it, engaged in a heated discussion.
Dismissing the need for courtesies, the prince introduced us quickly to the commanders in the room. His face was
grim as he said, “The merfolk never dared to storm the palace before. They would only do so now because they believe their army strong enough to confront us. Which means we’re running out of time.”
Captain Wenzhi lowered himself onto a chair and
gestured for me to do the same. An attendant hurried over to fill our cups with tea. “They might also wish to
antagonize you into retaliating rashly,” he warned.
Prince Yanxi nodded tersely. “We will be cautious.
However, if we allow Governor Renyu to attack us without repercussion, this will only embolden him further.” His
gaze met mine across the room. “The First Archer’s point about ensuring the battle is fought on land is a vital one. The merfolk would undoubtedly prefer to draw us underwater where they are strongest.”
Captain Wenzhi clasped his hands together on the table. “Orchestrating the confrontation would allow us to choose the battleground. You’ve said the merfolk venture to shore to raid. Is there any other occasion that would bring them to land?”
“None that we know of,” Prince Yanxi replied.
“Then we need to lure them to us. What can we use as bait?” Captain Wenzhi said decisively.
A few generals shifted in their chairs as though
disconcerted by his suggestion. I took a sip of tea to loosen the tightness in my throat. “It should be something that
would tempt Governor Renyu himself to lead the charge. This can only work once,” I added quickly, before I lost my nerve.
“I agree. Has the governor led a charge before?” Captain Wenzhi asked.
“No. He’s powerful but very cautious,” Prince Yanxi said. Captain Wenzhi sighed. “If I might speak plainly, Your
Highness?” At Prince Yanxi’s nod, he continued, “Magical items or treasure might not be enough to entice him to risk his neck. However, we are now aware that Prince Yanming is crucial to the governor’s plans.”
Prince Yanxi’s chair scraped against the floor as he uncoiled to his full height. “You want to use my little brother as bait?” he ground out.
Captain Wenzhi did not flinch, appearing indifferent to
the prince’s wrath. “Your brother will be taken to safety at the first sign of danger. We just need him to draw the governor into our trap.”
Prince Yanxi glared at him. “How can you ensure his safety?”
I recalled the young prince from last night, the one who had gripped his mother’s hand so tightly and laid his face against her shoulder. It reminded me of how I had clutched my own mother during the times I had been most afraid—
when I almost drowned in the river, when I learned I had to leave my home.
Something hardened inside me, a voice rising from my throat to say, “I’ll guard Prince Yanming.”
All heads swung toward me then, their surprise and
skepticism marked clear upon their faces. I was in disbelief myself; until this moment, this had not been my intent.
Only Captain Wenzhi smiled. “She will be the perfect
guard to watch over His Highness. I will protect him, too. We can’t surround him with more guards than usual, not without arousing suspicion.”
I slumped against my chair, relieved to no longer be the center of attention. Or was it because of his offer to stand watch with me?
A little of the ice thawed in Prince Yanxi’s expression as he sat down again.
Captain Wenzhi plunged ahead, always quick to sense an opening. “This plan will work. After last night’s attack, Governor Renyu must realize it would be near impossible to take the prince from here. We could spread the news that
Prince Yanming will be leaving soon for the Celestial
Kingdom for his safety. All we need is for him to appear on the beach, to convince the governor of his presence. First Archer Xingyin and I will be with him at every moment. If this doesn’t draw out Governor Renyu, nothing will.”
A stout general with light brown hair frowned. “His Highness has just his governess and one guard with him at all times. Moreover”—he reddened as he shot me a furtive
look—“there are no women in our army. Would not the First Archer’s presence make the enemy suspicious?”
Silence greeted his astute observation.
Captain Wenzhi tucked his chin between his fingers as his gaze slid over me. “First Archer Xingyin can disguise as
Lady Anmei, the prince’s governess.”
I froze, quelling an instinctive protest. How could I
delude anyone into thinking I was the elegant lady from the banquet? My opinion was apparently shared by many as the generals exchanged incredulous glances, though they
seemed too polite to voice their reservations aloud.
Captain Wenzhi had no such scruples. “I know she looks nothing like Lady Anmei, but with the right clothes and accessories, some face paint—”
“Captain Wenzhi, thank you for your confidence in me,” I interjected, fighting down a flash of irritation at his callous remarks.
Prince Yanxi’s expression was still grim. “My brother will be taken away before the battle begins.” It was a demand, not a question.
Captain Wenzhi inclined his head. “Of course.”
The prince spoke to me now. “This would be even more perilous than last night. Governor Renyu is dangerous and unpredictable. You would be the target of our enemy’s attacks and to avoid raising their suspicions, you can’t
carry a weapon or use your magic—at least not until the
trap is sprung. While I’m confident we can defeat them, no one knows the outcome of any confrontation. I fear for your safety should they reach you and find my brother not in your care.”
His candor and concern touched me. “Your Highness, I will take care of your brother and myself,” I assured him.
He nodded then, glancing around at the room. “Very well, we will proceed. Though we need some time to make our preparations and plant the information with the right sources. It would be prudent if you could spend some time with my brother over the next few days. If our plan is to succeed, he needs to be at ease with you.”
Something turned over in my stomach. While I
recognized the good sense in his suggestion, I had not spent much time with children.
After the meeting, Captain Wenzhi and I followed the prince to his brother’s quarters. At the sight of us, Lady
Anmei rose and bowed, her green brocade skirt grazing the floor. Up close, she was even more striking than I remembered. Her cheeks were stained pink when she saw Captain Wenzhi, but it was his courtly bow to her which
made me gnaw the underside of my lip for some inexplicable reason.
Prince Yanming came forward then, executing a flawless bow to his brother. When he was introduced to me, he
showed no recognition from last night. Prince Yanxi wasted no time in drawing Lady Anmei aside and speaking to her
in hushed tones. Without another word, they left the room with Captain Wenzhi.
“Where did Lady Anmei go? Who are you?” Prince
Yanming demanded. His cheeks were soft and round, even as his chin jutted out defiantly.
I crouched down to look into his eyes, the same blue as his brother’s. “Lady Anmei had to leave for a short while, but she’ll be back soon. I will stay with you for now.”
His mouth pressed into a straight line. “Do you know any games?”
“How about weiqi?” I offered, already searching his room for the board with its smooth black and white stones.
He shuddered. “Can you sing? Draw? Craft animals from paper?” he rattled off.
I shook my head, my spirits sinking.
“You’re the worst governess I’ve ever met.” He crossed his arms mutinously in front of him.
I scowled at him, irked by his words. “Well, I’m not your governess and you’re being very rude. Maybe if you were a little more polite, I would teach you some of the exciting things I do know.”
His eyes squeezed tighter, his mouth pursing like a
wrinkled grape. I braced myself for his tantrum and tears, thinking Shuxiao with her effortless charm would have
been far better equipped for this challenge. But then he drew himself up straight and with remarkable poise, asked, “Well, what can you do?”
I racked my mind for something to say to capture his interest, something to live up to my rash boast. “I can play the flute,” I offered, with more than a little pride.
He huffed impatiently, rolling his eyes—utterly unimpressed by one of my greatest skills.
“I’ve read a lot of books,” I added quickly. “I can tell you stories!”
A sudden interest sparked in his face. “About the dragons?”
“The Four Dragons, when they bring rain to the Mortal Realm.” I was relieved to have finally caught his attention.
It had been one of my favorite tales as a child, and one with more truth to it than I had suspected.
“The one where the dragons get punished by the stuffy Celestial Emperor? That’s the worst of them all!”
Before I could stop myself, a snort of laughter burst from me at his irreverent description of the most powerful
immortal in the realm.
The corners of his lips curved up ever so slightly. “What else can you do?” The animosity had vanished from his tone.
I returned his smile. “Shoot arrows. And fight with a sword.”
He lit up as he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a large chest crammed with wooden swords and shields.
“Eldest Brother says I’m too young to learn. But you’ll show me, won’t you?” he asked eagerly.
Helpless before such enthusiasm, I nodded weakly, hoping Prince Yanxi would forgive my transgression.
When Lady Anmei and Captain Wenzhi finally returned,
we were engaged in a mock battle, leaping over the coral in the garden, our wooden swords thudding against each other. At the sight of them, I hastily dropped the sword,
smoothing back my disheveled hair.
“Your Highness, it’s your bedtime,” Lady Anmei said in a firm tone.
Prince Yanming’s shoulders drooped, but he took her outstretched hand. “Will you come again tomorrow?” he asked me.
Something bloomed inside me at the hope in his voice. “Yes. I would like that very much.”
The sky had darkened to twilight by the time we returned to the shore. Instead of joining Captain Wenzhi in his tent, I ate with the other soldiers. For some reason I did not want to be in his company tonight.
I was on edge, wound tight. After the meal I paced along the beach, climbing upon a large rock. It soothed my restlessness to watch the waves hurling themselves against the shore in reckless abandon. The rough stone pressed
against my back as I lay down, staring at the sky. When the moon shone as brightly as it did tonight, I knew my mother had lit the thousand lanterns and the perpetual ache in my heart eased a little. As I imagined her arms around me, her cool cheek against mine—a smile spread across my lips.
Footsteps approached, almost drowned by the crashing waves.
“You like to stare at the moon,” Captain Wenzhi said, from behind me.
“It’s a better view than some.” I did not bother to rise. It was rude of me, but I was in no mood for courtesy.
As he climbed up to join me, I jerked up onto my elbows, glaring at him. “Will you leave?” I fought to keep my voice steady.
“No.”
“Then I will.” I pressed my palms against the rock to slide down, but he covered my hand with his. His grip was as
unyielding as the stone beneath my skin.
“Why are you angry?” He sounded confused.
I snatched my hand away, wrapping my arms around my knees. In truth, I did not know the cause of this gnawing
sensation whenever I looked at him.
“Was it because I suggested you dress as Lady Anmei?” he probed.
The memory of his careless words stung. “You had no concern for me when you said that.”
His brow creased in surprise. “Are you afraid?” he asked, misunderstanding my meaning. “You can take care of the
young prince and yourself, even without weapons and magic. And if I had no concern for you, would I stand guard with you?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then what is the reason for your ill humor?” His voice was as soft as the evening breeze.
“I know you admire Lady Anmei and that I’m not as
beautiful or elegant as her. But . . . it was not pleasant to hear it said aloud.” Heat crept up my neck at the recollection.
“Admire her? If I was attentive to her it was only because it seemed to annoy you.” He grinned wryly, before turning serious once more. “Why would you want to look like her?
Why would a falcon want to be a nightingale?”
My pulse quickened. I did not know why, except I was suddenly unsure of myself. Eager to leave and yet . . . wanting to stay. “Captain Wenzhi—”
“Just, Wenzhi.” His gaze held mine.
Somehow, I knew it was a moment of great import to him, a mark of trust that he did not easily relinquish.
My cowardly desire to leave vanished. I called Shuxiao by her name, but we were close friends. Peers. I had only ever addressed him as “Captain Wenzhi,” as he called me
“Archer Xingyin”—any other form of address here would have been unthinkable. We had teased, needled, and even argued outright with each another, but this would be
crossing into unfamiliar terrain, sweeping away yet another barrier between us. One, I found, I was glad to do without.
“Wenzhi,” I repeated slowly, unused to his name without his title.
A smile appeared on his lips, barely perceptible in the dark.
The last of my discomfort vanished, replaced by a warm flutter. I did not speak again and neither did he. Together, we lay on the rock in companionable silence, the waves
rushing to shore the only sound in the night.
The moon rose higher. Its glow glinted on the water, the fragments of a thousand silver shards reflected on its surface. The breeze cooled my skin as the warmth in my
chest spread to my veins, as though I was drunk on wine.
