Chapter 14

Ying followed Ye-yang beyond the translucent white drapes of the canopy and found herself in a small private space where a bamboo table and a few chairs had been set up, with a fresh pot of tea brewing on top of its burner. Tie guan yin—with the fragrance of orchids that she had come to associate with the fourth beile.

"Sit," Ye-yang said. He lifted the teapot and poured two cups, pushing one to the empty seat across from him.

Ying sank down onto her prescribed chair. She could hear Nergui barking snappish instructions to the boatman, and the boat jerked into motion. Through the gaps in the curtains lifted by the occasional breeze, she saw them drifting away from the resplendent pagoda—and the last fragments of anxiety that had riddled her heart moments ago dissipated with the wind.

"Who is he? The man with the scar," Ye-yang asked.

Ying's fingers tensed around the porcelain teacup.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just thought you looked…frightened, back there. If there's anything I can do to help, you only need to ask," the beile added.

She looked up, hesitating for a long moment. Then, she said, "Nobody important. Just someone I knew from Huarin, that's all."

"Oh." A slight crease appeared across Ye-yang's forehead. "I see."

The subtle disappointment in his expression gave her the urge to retract her lie and tell him the truth, but eventually she chose to avert her gaze and hold her silence. She wasn't ready. The fact that she had even deigned to suspect that Ye-yang was in contact with her father's killer showed that she didn't yet trust him enough.

Ying glanced down at the tea swirling in her cup, a few curled leaves slowly unfurling in the amber pool. Tea—not warm goat's milk that her e-niye used to make for her, and then Nian after their mother's passing. If her mother were still around, perhaps she would not be so lost and confused about the way forward. Her mother had always been the calming, reassuring voice behind her and her father's more impetuous nature—the lighthouse that never failed to guide them home.

But she had to rely on herself now. Even Nian and her other siblings were too far away to help her.

If she had learned one thing from tonight's case of mistaken identity, it was that she was unprepared. That was the crux of the problem. If she wanted to make the culprit pay for what he had done, she needed to stop being the one on the defensive, sitting around waiting for him to catch her. She had to learn how to protect herself better. She had to expedite her investigation to find out who he was—and who he worked for—so that she could be one step ahead.

Reaching into his sleeve, Ye-yang retrieved the folded fan that had been hidden within. He put it on the table in front of Ying. She flinched, abruptly snatched away from her own thoughts.

"I'll be leaving Fei in two days' time, and I might not be back within a month or two. Try to stay out of trouble in the meantime," he said.

"What?" Ying stared up at him. "You're leaving?"

"The High Commander issued the orders today. I'm taking some men to Fu-li."

"But Chang-en said that the second beile was going. If he's going, then why do you still need to go?"

"Erden is leading the support. I've been appointed overall commander for this mission." Ye-yang pushed the curtains aside and stepped out, standing by the edge of the boat with his hands resting behind his back.

Ying picked up her fan and stuffed it up her sleeve, then she followed after him. "But what exactly will you be doing there? The others have been talking about war, about testing the air cannons. Is it true? Will it be dangerous?" she asked. When Ye-yang tilted his head sideways to look at her, a bemused glimmer in his gray eyes, she suddenly realized that she had once again stepped out of line. She bowed frantically. "I'm sorry, Beile-ye. I asked too many questions."

Probing into military secrets was a crime punishable by death—and she didn't yet want her head to roll.

To her surprise, a smile stretched across Ye-yang's face instead. The moonlight softened the angles of his face, and his eyes creased into the same shape as the crescent moon suspended in the darkened sky. Their eyes locked, and Ying's heart skipped a beat.

The boat was still sailing down the canal straits, though they had long left the glitzy Red Tower behind them and moved on to a quieter part of the city. A group of children gathered by the edge of the canal, setting small lotus-shaped lanterns afloat on the water's surface.

After what felt like a long moment frozen in time, Ye-yang finally pulled his gaze away, looking toward the bobbing lanterns instead.

"Do you do this too? Back in Huarin?" he asked.

"No. We have no rivers in Huarin and the sea surrounding the island is too choppy. Those lanterns would sink the moment they touch the water's surface," Ying said slowly, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

Ye-yang called for Nergui, issuing some instructions to his attendant in a hushed voice. The latter scurried off, and moments later the boat shifted direction, coming alongside a small sampan belonging to a market seller peddling lanterns up and down the canal. Nergui ran back with two lanterns, handing them to his young master.

"Here in Fei, people like to set these lanterns afloat—for good luck. The current carries them down the canals and eventually sends them out into the open sea. They say that Abka Han will see the glow of the lanterns from the heavens and grant the wishes of the faithful," Ye-yang said, holding out one lantern to Ying.

Ying stared down at the lotus lantern sitting in her hands, its pale pink petals made from see-through gauze wrapped around a delicate wire frame. The candle flame flickered in the wind, bringing the slightest tinge of warmth to the otherwise frigid night air. If she had set one of these afloat back in Huarin, would Abka Han have protected her father from harm?

Ye-yang bent over the edge of the boat and gently set his lantern onto the water's surface. "I won't lie and say that Fu-li won't be dangerous," he suddenly said, "but it's not something I haven't seen before. At least with the Empire the enemy is always in the light. Those kinds of enemies are the easiest to deal with."

"Just because you survived once doesn't mean you'll be lucky a second time." Life was fragile—too fragile—and it could be stolen away far too easily.

Ying squatted beside him, clumsily dropping her lotus when she had meant to set it gracefully upon the water's surface. It wobbled precariously, but thankfully survived her bungle and floated away alongside his. She puckered her lips into a pout, watching the lanterns drift away into darkness in unison like a pair of stars in the river.

A laugh escaped from Ye-yang's throat. He reached over and gave her a gentle pat on the head—the way an older brother would to a younger sibling. Ying bristled with irritation, and disappointment.

She couldn't deny the attraction she felt toward the reticent but quietly confident fourth beile, that had been quietly growing ever since that drunken rooftop night—or maybe ever since he first rescued her from the nine-tailed chimera on Muci. His stoic and sensible nature felt like an anchor for her in these times of uncertainty, a single lamp that lit the darkness that surrounded her. But she had enough common sense to know that it was impossible between them. She was worlds apart from someone like Ye-yang. He was a prince—and she an orphan from a washed-out clan.

One day he would marry a girl from a noble family—and even take a few concubines. Hell, he had just been at a brothel. The reminder was like a slap to her face.

Ye-yang's fingers touched her cheeks, brushing away a few stray strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She swiped at her fringe like a riled cat, turning to glare at him.

The young beile blinked back his surprise as he stared into her dark brown eyes. A pink tinge appeared on his cheeks and he swallowed, adjusting his fur-lined collar uncomfortably. It was strange, seeing him appear uneasy. Was it because of her? What did he actually think of her?

But she didn't have time to dwell on that, because Ye-yang suddenly dived toward her, pushing her down against the boat's wooden deck.

An arrow flew overhead, skimming the top of Ye-yang's head. Then several more followed, just over their bodies.

Ying lay on her back, her jaw hanging slack as she watched the arrows slice through the air. She clung to Ye-yang, who was pressed down above her, keeping his head just low enough to avoid the rain of arrows. His gaze hardened, piercing through the darkness in the direction of the assailants.

In the background, Nergui was yelling for reinforcements.

A series of heavy thuds struck the deck as several masked men leapt onto the boat.

Ye-yang grabbed Ying by the shoulder and hauled her back up to her feet, pushing her behind him as the men approached. They were surrounded, encircled by the enemy in front and trapped by the icy canal waters behind.

The assassins—there were at least nine or ten of them—raised their gleaming swords in the air, charging toward their marks. Ye-yang and Ying were outnumbered and there was nowhere to run.

Ying slid her fan out from her sleeve, grateful to have it at hand once again, its metal leaves snapping in a series of orderly clicks. She wrapped her fingers around its shaft, readying her thumb above the pivot.

Still keeping her shielded behind him, Ye-yang sprang into action. He grabbed the arm of the nearest man with lightning speed, slamming his fist into the man's neck. When he withdrew, Ying stared in shock at the blood that was dripping from his knuckles. A sharp, metal spike extended from the jade ring that Ye-yang always wore on his index finger. The assassin collapsed, dead.

Even though he was but one man, Ye-yang fended off the aggressive attacks of the enemy with stroke after methodical stroke, deflecting blows and evading swords with exacting precision. Blood completely stained his curled fist, but Ying knew that it didn't belong to him. It belonged to the victims of the ruthless silver blade that had been hidden within that innocuous ring. Ten men dwindled to just five.

A soft swoosh suddenly grazed the side of Ying's ear. An arrow appeared out of nowhere, lodging itself in Ye-yang's right shoulder blade. The beile, who had just dispatched another assassin and sent the helpless body flailing into the water, grimaced and took a quick glance at the offensive wooden shaft pierced through his back. He reached back and snapped it in half, leaving a short, splintered stump protruding, before continuing to engage the assailants.

In that moment, an assassin leapt at the opportunity to stab his sword at Ye-yang's back. Ying pointed her fan's blade in the attacker's direction, tapping rapidly on its pivot. Two bamboo darts shot out from their barrels and struck the chest of the man, just as the tip of his sword ripped the fabric of Ye-yang's robes. The assassin stumbled backward, glancing down at his chest and then ferociously at Ying.

The assassin turned his attention toward her, a murderous glint in his eyes. He flung a sharpened dart at her. Ying dodged right and quickly tapped her fan's pivot once more, but this time the man easily cut down her darts with a swing of his sword. The barrels were empty.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ying spotted a gas lamp swinging precariously from its hook, the tiny flame within swaying with the violent rocking of the boat. She grabbed it by hand, ignoring the searing heat that scalded her palm.

The man raised his sword, and she could see her own terrified reflection in the silver.

Ying quickly pulled out a small bronze plug from the base of the lamp and flung the entire lamp at her attacker as forcefully as she could.

Bang!

The lamp shattered in midair, exploding into a ball of flames.

Many of the lamps used by Antaran nobility were powered by a careful release of flammable kaen gas, kept in a small storage unit hidden at their bases. By pulling out the contraption that controlled the gas release, Ying triggered the small explosion.

The two assassins standing closest to her were flung off the deck by the force.

"Min!"

Ye-yang's face appeared in front of her, so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching. He flinched, gritting his teeth as beads of sweat started gathering above his brow. Flames licked the back of his dark robes and shards of broken glass had ripped through the fabric, carving themselves into his flesh. He had shielded her from the blast in the nick of time.

Behind them, a few of Ye-yang's guards had already boarded the boat and were busy dispatching the remaining few assassins.

"Ye-yang!" She clutched on to his shoulders, fear gripping her heart.

The beile's body swayed dangerously, his face gone deathly pale, then he collapsed atop her. Ying lost balance, struggling to keep her footing on deck while supporting Ye-yang at the same time. Before she could help it, they went toppling over the edge, falling into the dark, wintry waters of the canal and leaving the boat's flaming deck behind them.

The cold was biting at first, like a thousand tiny needles piercing through her skin, and then the numbness began. Starting with her fingers and toes, it quickly worked its way up her limbs and toward her core. It was reminiscent of the freezing, turbulent seawater around Huarin, which she had been forced to swim in many times when she was testing her flight apparatus.

Holding her breath, Ying wrapped her arms around the unconscious Ye-yang, kicking her legs desperately to keep them both from sinking into an icy grave. Through the rippling water's surface, she could still see the fire raging above.

Ying began to swim toward the nearest canal bank. Keeping one arm wrapped around Ye-yang's neck, she kept them carefully hidden beneath the surface of the water in case there were any enemy archers still lurking above, swimming as hard as she could toward the soft glow of light she could see in the distance. The lamps that the children had set afloat, drifting from the canal's edge toward the open sea. She was slowly but surely running out of air, and when she glanced back at Ye-yang's pale, serene expression, the thought that he could die flashed painfully through her mind.

It took almost all of Ying's energy to make it from the boat to the canal's edge, till she could see the children's lanterns floating directly above her head and their hazy faces peering down into the water. She broke through the surface gasping for breath, pulling Ye-yang up with her. With the help of some confused passersby, the two of them were dragged out of the water and onto dry land. Ying shivered uncontrollably as the frosty night winds chilled her bones.

"Ye-yang," she called, looking down at the young man whose head was resting on her thigh. "Wake up." She placed one trembling hand on his cheek, wishing that he would open his eyes and say something—anything.

Ye-yang's lips were a ghastly shade of white, his body quivering in her arms.

She adjusted her position slightly, and he emitted a low groan, brows furrowing tightly as if he was in great pain. His eyelids lifted, revealing a pair of tired eyes.

"Thank Abka Han!" Ying cried, tears streaming down her face.

On the canal, the flames on their boat had been swiftly extinguished by Ye-yang's men. The river had once again returned to calm, gently illuminated by the sprinkling of lotus-shaped lanterns floating on the surface. Ying had never been one to believe in praying to the heavens, but this time around she was grateful that she had—because Abka Han had granted her wish much sooner than she had expected.