Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

O ur departure was a quiet affair.

A carriage had been prepared outside the cottage gates, with a scarlet veil draped over the windows on both sides and the raised roof decorated with intricate blue-and-green carvings. Luyi was already at the front, dressed in leather armor and adjusting the horses' bridles.

"Do you have everything?" Fanli asked as I climbed into the carriage after Zhengdan. He did not look at me as he spoke, but rather seemed fixated on a small scratch in the door. His lips were pale, and when I snuck a glance at his face, I saw the dark gray shadows under his eyes. Perhaps he had not slept well.

"Yes," I said, my voice as stiff as his. I patted the satchel hanging across my shoulders. It was far heavier than it'd been when we first arrived at Riversong Cottage, now stuffed full of different robes and powders and pretty ornamental things.

He nodded, still without facing me. "Good."

The door snapped shut.

I sighed and leaned back in the cushioned seats, only to find Zhengdan staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Did something happen between you two?"

"What do you mean?" It came out sharper than I intended, and a treacherous flush rose to my cheeks. I wish something had happened , I thought to myself. But it was a forbidden thought, not meant to be shared with any soul, no matter how I trusted Zhengdan like my own sister.

"He's been rather…" She paused, then lifted the veil an inch to watch Fanli through the round window. He was saying something to Luyi too quiet for us to hear, but Luyi's back snapped straight, and his free hand flew to the sword at his belt. "… on edge this morning," she finished, brows arching. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"It must be the trip," I said, dodging the question as best I could. "It's a lot of pressure, after all. If anything happens to us, he will have to take full responsibility."

Zhengdan let the veil fall back down and snorted quietly. It was one of the many things Fanli had warned her against when we reached the palace; it was not considered ladylike. Why does it seem to me that the court's idea of a lady is a beautiful, dull shell who has no personality and makes no sound , Zhengdan had complained to me afterward. They would be better off marrying a statue. "Typical of you."

"Hm?"

"If anything happens to us, I would be concerned first and foremost with getting kidnapped or killed, not the consequences someone else must bear."

The carriage lurched into motion. Soon the steady clip-clop of hooves and occasional swish of the whip reached our ears, and the song of the river grew fainter and fainter. It was an uncomfortable ride, stretching on and on for what seemed like forever. Even with the cushions padding the seats, I felt every stone and twig crushed under the wheels, every jolt of the carriage when we turned a corner. I could not tell what was worse: the sheer boredom, or the undercurrent of dread that ran beneath it. It was like being forced to lie paralyzed on the ground while your enemy approached you slowly with a blade raised. The only times we left the carriage were when night fell and we needed to find an inn to rest; then, in the morning, the journey continued again. More than once, I considered shoving the carriage door open, running far away, and never coming back. Such a quick, simple movement. But my fingers remained clasped and clammy in my lap.

When the sky started to darken beyond the carriage curtains, Zhengdan rested her head on my shoulder and dozed off, her breathing deepening into snores. I was amazed she could fall asleep so quickly, or at all. My muscles were so tense that the idea of sleep seemed absurd. As my thoughts ran ahead to the looming palace in its faraway land and the king I loathed but would have to pretend to love, I could not imagine myself ever sleeping again.

A strange hissing sound outside jerked me from my reverie.

At first I wondered if it was just the wind. But then the hissing sound came again, even closer, and through the veil I saw the black flashing shadow of something thin and sharp. My body seemed to understand what it was before my mind did. My heart slammed against my ribs. I straightened in my seat, one hand braced against the door.

We were under attack.

"Zhengdan," I whispered, shaking her awake. " Zhengdan ."

She opened one bleary eye, rubbing at her face. "What?" Her voice was still groggy. "Are we almost there? That was faster than I—"

Up ahead, the horses let out a whinny that was almost a shriek, stamping their hooves madly. The entire carriage shook with the motion. My stomach flipped. I stifled a gasp, grabbing blindly for the sides of the seat to steady myself.

Zhengdan's eyes widened, fully awake now. "What's going on?"

I shook my head, unable to speak. More arrows swished through the air, raining down like lightning. There had to be dozens. This was no random attack; it was coordinated. I couldn't help it. My throat tight, I brushed the veil aside an inch and squinted into the falling purple darkness. We were in the middle of some kind of forest path, surrounded by patches of overgrown trees. Fanli had already leaped to the ground, sword at the ready. Both he and Luyi were cutting down the arrows as they fell, severing them in mid-flight. I had no idea how they were doing it; the arrows moved so fast you could barely track them with the human eye, their lethal points glinting in the moonlight. I strained to find the attackers, but they were hiding somewhere behind the trees—

The carriage door flew open.

I felt the rush of cold night air against my back, and something else. Something that made all the hairs on my neck stand up.

Zhengdan screamed.

Gloved hands gripped my arm, yanked me out backward as if I weighed no more than a doll. I thrashed, but it was useless. Another pair of rough hands grabbed my hair and pulled; my eyes stung with the sudden, tearing pain. Zhengdan moved to unsheathe her sword, but there were too many of them, at least six attackers, all dressed in black. I could not see any faces, only the darkness, and the silver storm of arrows shooting through the air. Distractions , I realized too late. They were designed to keep Fanli and Luyi preoccupied, while they took us and—

My bleak imagination ran wild with the possibilities, my heart thudding so hard it hurt my chest. I kicked out again, gasping. In response the hands around me tightened into burning bands around my wrists. Though I had eaten nothing all day, my stom ach heaved. I was remembering the horror stories I had heard, what happened to pretty girls, young girls, girls who dared walk alone in the dark. Was this what I would become? Just another story, a warning mothers whispered to their daughters at night, for fear they would venture too far from home?

Then I looked ahead, and all the air left my lungs.

An archer stood between the trees. Their bow was raised, their knee slightly bent, the string pulled taut. The arrow aimed directly at Fanli's back.

No.

There was no way he could anticipate it. He was already fending off countless arrows at once, his sword slashing through the air in a frenzied blur. I could not move against these strangers' iron grips, could not even run forward to warn him. So I did the only thing I could: I cried out.

Just as the archer released the arrow.

He had flinched at the very last second, startled by the sudden sound. Instead of flying forward, in a perfect curve, the arrow flew askew. And shot straight toward me.

I did not have time to react. One second I was watching the arrow being expelled into the air, and the next I felt an explosion of pain in my left shoulder, white-hot and instant. Brutal. I jerked backward, agony tearing through my body. I could feel it, the place where cold metal sank into flesh, the unnatural object piercing through skin. And then—and then—everything happened in a blur. There was Fanli, racing toward me, fast as a shadow, like a figure from the fables. My sight had started to fade already, black spots swimming before me, and so perhaps I only thought I saw the wild, raw emotion ablaze on his face, a wretched look I'd never witnessed before, like the world was crumbling around him. There was the slice of his sword, its cold light streaking through my vision. A horrible gurgling sound came from the man closest to me. Warm blood sprayed my cheeks, the sickening, coppery taste filling my tongue. His hands slackened, and he fell limp to the ground, alongside an odd thud . Something rolled off to the side. At first I assumed it was a stone, but a cloud moved over the moon, and a slant of light illuminated the tangled hair, the glazed-over eyes, the severed neck, blood still gushing freely from it. My heart slammed so hard against my chest I was afraid I would throw up. It was a head.

Amid the chaos, there came a moment of pure, eerie silence.

Nothingness. Like the earth had frozen over.

Then somebody yelled out, and everyone jolted into action once more. Fanli swung his sword to the side, one great, vicious slash, more fat droplets of blood splashing across the leaves. And he was holding me, lifting me into his arms, even as he held on to his weapon, cut through anyone who stood in our way. My lashes fluttered. The searing pain had started to dull into a persistent throbbing, and I could no longer tell if the blood soaking through my robes was my own, or someone else's. All I knew was that I was tired, so tired. My body felt heavy as stone. It was a wonder Fanli could carry my weight at all and move as fast as he was.

"Xishi." His voice, hoarse and rough in my ear. A whisper. "Xishi, hold on. We're almost there."

Almost where? I had lost control over my senses. My head spun. Dimly, in Fanli's arms, I could see the clouds floating up above, their edges lined with pearlescent light, and the black branches of the trees rushing past us on both sides. Were we leaving the forest? Going deeper in? More arrows sailed overhead, their metal ends whispering through the leaves, yet miraculously, none of them touched me.

"Be careful," I panted. It cost me to speak; my chest rattled and heaved, and the arrow in my shoulder seemed to drive deeper, splitting through flesh. I bit back a scream. "It's—dangerous."

"You're safe with me."

Funny how that felt like the truth, even when everything about our current situation suggested otherwise. The soft, steady fall of his steps, the slight sway of his arms as he carried me, the warmth of his robes against my cheek, pressed so close I could hear his strong, thudding heartbeat—I could have curled up like this forever. I could have fallen asleep. It would be so easy; my eyelids were already heavy. I needed only close them, and then maybe the terrible pain would stop, maybe I could rest—

"Don't close your eyes." The sharpness of Fanli's tone split through my thoughts. His steps sounded faster; his arms tightened around me. "Focus on me, Xishi."

I didn't want to listen to him. Sleep was much more tempting. But there was a part of me, a shameful, burning, inextinguishable part, that always wanted to please him. So I made myself look up. My eyes tracked the knife-sharp cut of his jaw, the gentle curve of his lips. A small cut ran down his cheekbone, still wet with his blood. My heart seized. I wanted to lift my fingers to touch him, make it all better, but my arms were dead wood, falling uselessly at my sides.

"You—You're injured," I whispered, the words grazing my throat like sand.

He stared down at me, his face strained, eyes black as the night around us. "Ironic that you should mention it."

"What?"

"You're bleeding out in my arms as we speak, Xishi." His voice caught on the end of the sentence. He cleared it, smoothed it out. More evenly, he added, "It would be wiser to worry about yourself first."

"Why? I don't look pretty this way?" I managed to smile as I said it, teasing.

He cast me a dark look. "Are you trying to make a joke?"

"No. That's why I'm important to you. Because I'm beautiful."

He said nothing for a long time. Almost imperceptibly, his hold on my body seemed to tighten. At last, he muttered, "Well, at least your confidence has not been injured."

I huffed a soft laugh, then winced; the faint movement drove a black spike of pain through me. Still, I croaked, "Could you not be sweeter to me? Even just a little?"

Something flashed across his face. But I could not identify it. My vision was growing duller, white bleeding into the edges. Everything—the trees blurring past us, the dark sky looming overhead, the salt scent of blood and dirt and old bark—felt farther and farther away as he ran on, drifting beyond reach. We had crossed into some kind of new terrain. The shrubbery thinned out, and the low rush and hiss of waves traveled to my ears. The air felt crisper, damper, cold on my skin. We were on a riverbank.

"Fanli," I murmured, or at least I tried to speak. My voice was so faint it was little more than air, dissolving in the breeze. "I can't… keep my eyes open much longer."

"You have to." His footsteps slapped over rocks and mud. Something splashed in the water before us; there was the groan of wood, a loud clattering. "Listen to me. Listen. If you die, my…"

But I couldn't hear the rest of it. The roar of blood in my ears was too loud, drowning everything out. I could only guess at what he'd meant to say. If you die, my great plan will be ruined, my most valuable weapon lost forever. If you die, my reputation will suffer, and His Majesty will never forgive me. If you die, my kingdom will have no savior. More voices rustled past my head. Unfamiliar, but urgent. An incomprehensible mumbling, no more meaningful than the rustle of wind through grass. All I knew was the solidity of Fanli's presence, the way a red-crowned crane knows the sweetness of the pine trees, or how a cormorant knows the melodies of the river water. He had not let me go. The last thing I saw before my eyes fell shut was his face, its cold, ineluctable beauty pinched tight with concern and hovering over me.

I woke to the world swaying.

My mouth was dry, as if it had been stuffed with a rough cloth, and tasted bitter, like old blood. My whole body felt cavernous. At first glance, I was in a small room of sorts, with a single bed and wooden planks covering the walls. When I tried to sit, a sharp pain speared through my shoulder, and I gasped. Looked down. A white bandage had been wrapped snugly around my wound, a small patch of crimson blossoming from the center. The violence of the night suddenly pressed close against my memory: the arrow that had missed Fanli and caught me instead, the men leaping from the trees like monsters, the sound of Fanli's breathing hot and harsh in my ears as he ran—

"Xishi-jie! Oh, thank the heavens, you're finally awake."

Zhengdan rushed over to my bedside, her bright skirts brushing against the wood. Her face looked more wan than usual, and there was a slight tremor to her hand that had not been there before, but otherwise she looked safe. Unharmed.

I felt a dizzying rush of relief.

"What happened?" I asked. My lips cracked, and my voice came out a rasp.

"Drink this first. Fanli said you would need it." She handed me a cup of water, still warm. I took a long swig, then another. It was as if I had never tasted water before; it was so sweet, so filling, so soothing down my throat. "Slow down," Zhengdan chided, her expression torn between concern and amusement. "You're going to choke."

I shook my head, not even willing to lift my mouth from the cup to reply. When I had finished every last drop, I set it down again. "Tell me now," I urged. "Where are we? How long has it been since they attacked? Why did they attack? Is Fanli all right? Is Luyi?"

"One thing at a time," she said, scooting closer, a placating hand resting on my hair. It was a gesture that reminded me sharply of my mother, and I felt a deep tug of homesickness in my gut. "We're on the boat King Goujian had prepared for us. Fanli thinks the attackers had timed it so they could intercept us right before we boarded, to stop us from reaching the Wu Kingdom at all. We set sail a little over a week ago from Xiaoshan."

" A week? " I shot up, then instantly regretted it. Pain blazed through my stiff muscles like a flame.

"Careful—your wound's only just closed." Zhengdan grabbed my arm and helped me shift into a less torturous position. "And yes, you're lucky Fanli had thought ahead to request a physician to come along with us. Whatever medicine he brewed for you put you to sleep right away. Though for a while…" Her voice wobbled, and she averted her gaze to the bucket below my bed. The water inside was tainted dark red. A blood-soaked cloth hung over the edge. My blood, I realized with a sickening jolt. "For a while, you were so still… I was afraid you had left us already. Fanli must've feared it too, because he… You should've seen him, Xishi-jie. I've never seen him so—" She shook her head, seemingly unable to find the words. "It was terrifying. He refused to let the physician tend to his injuries, and forced him to focus only on treating you. He has not moved from the place outside your door. Nobody has dared approach him these past couple days, not even Luyi."

I stared at my hands, my heart quickening, remembering the way he had lifted me as if I weighed no more than a feather and hugged me tight to his chest, even as arrows rained down on either side of us. "Well, of course he was afraid. He has invested so much time and effort into training me." I tried to smile, to play it off as a jest. "If I had died, it would all have gone to waste."

"It's not just that—"

The curtain to the room flipped open. Fanli stood in the doorway, the dark moss-green of the river glittering behind him. His eyes widened marginally as he took me in, before he crossed the room in three quick strides. Stopped a foot away from the bed. His fingers flexed in my direction, as if to reach out to me, but he curled them again into a tight fist at his side.

It was to Zhengdan that he spoke. "You could have told me she'd woken." There was a hard edge to his voice, a faint creep of irritation. If I had not heard it, I would've thought Zhengdan had been exaggerating. Nobody has dared approach him.

"Don't blame her," I said quickly. "I only just woke."

His eyes flickered to me, lingering on the bandage covering my shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"Well," I said.

He cast me a look of disbelief.

"Well enough," I amended. "Thank you for… for saving me." Again , I wanted to add, the unspoken word clawing at my throat. What a bittersweet fate we shared, balanced so precariously on the fine line between life and death, union and separation, joy and despair.

"You saved me first," he said, shaking his head. "You should have just let the archer shoot."

Even the thought—the possibility—sent a blistering ache through me. "I don't regret it."

Silence unspooled between us, save for the faint splash of oars against the waves, the faraway call of herons. I remembered the last words he had said to me, right before darkness fell. If you die, my… What? The question burned within me, but there were certain things that could only be admitted under certain circumstances. It was too different now, with the danger behind us and the warm yellow daylight filtering through the windows and Zhengdan waiting next to us, watching. The moment had expired.

I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. "The attackers. Who were they? Did you see?"

"I didn't, but I can guess." His tone mirrored mine, serious now, carefully stripped of feeling. "As you must know by now—and as you will soon see yourself—the court of the Wu Kingdom is… complicated. They've long been divided among themselves, split into factions. You have those who have allied themselves in the favor of Fuchai—they are usually younger, of weaker disposition, more likely to be tempted by the promise of pretty porcelains and concubines for their harem. And you have those who secretly scorn the king for being too frivolous and self-indulgent, and remain loyal to the one they've served longest: his father, King Helü. They have never forgotten Helü's death from battle, nor his last words, which were to remain vigilant against the Yue at all costs."

"So they do not want me there," I said slowly, my head clearing. "Right? If they know that tributes from the Yue king are coming, they must see it as an offering of goodwill, an extension of peace. Either they believe it to be an insult to King Helü's memory or—"

"Or they suspect it may be a trap," Zhengdan offered, her expression grave. "They know that Fuchai won't listen to them, and so they took matters into their own hands. Fuchai would never know they were the ones behind it."

"Not only that," I said, a chill crawling down my spine, "but it would look like a careless mistake on His Majesty's part, perhaps even some kind of dark joke, to promise a tribute of beautiful women only to announce that they had died on the journey. Fuchai would've taken it as a personal offense, and the conflict between our kingdoms would only escalate to new heights."

Fanli nodded.

I was trying not to panic. We had been warned countless times that our mission was dangerous, that we would have to be cautious, watch our every move, trust nobody, lest someone stab us when we were looking the other way. But it was another thing to have felt the cold, ruthless force of the arrowhead splitting my own flesh; to have been seized by rough, gloved hands and yanked out of a carriage; to have tasted blood and death on my tongue as we fled through the night.

"Has this delayed our journey?" I asked Fanli. I did not know what I wanted the answer to be. Part of me wished the boat would turn back, wished to hold off my arrival in Wu as long as possible.

"No," he said. "But about the attack, and your wound…" His eyes flashed black as he said it.

"I understand," I assured him, knowing what he meant. When I arrived at the palace, I could not breathe a word of what I had survived, of my suspicions. Whoever had ordered the failed attack would only have more reason to dispose of me, and quickly. Instead, I would have to spin a convincing lie, feign ignorance, put those in court at ease.

He looked like he wished to say something more, something else. But then he glanced over at Zhengdan, who sat beside me still, letting me lean against her for support. After a beat, he merely nodded. "We are almost there. I'll tell you when it's time."