Chapter 19

Since arriving in Fei, this was the first time that Ying was truly Ying, not pretending to be someone else.

She had swapped out her gray guild robes for a pale blue silk dress with a white fur collar, intricate embroidery of peonies and chrysanthemums in silver thread adorning her sleeves and the entirety of her skirt. The material draped luxuriously around her lithe frame, far better than anything she owned back on Huarin. Ye-yang had prepared it for her, though he wouldn't say when. Her braids had been undone so her long hair could be left cascading down her back, adorned with a simple headdress of pearlescent beads.

A light white veil hung from her ears, shielding most of her face from view in case anyone recognized her.

Despite that, it was still liberating, not having to pretend to be someone else. Pretending to be a boy for a few days was fine, but to do so for months at the risk of being flogged when discovered was a torture.

They were winding their way down the bustling streets of the capital, squeezing through the crowds that thronged the night markets. The celebratory atmosphere from the bannermen's triumphant return still hung thick in the air, with high-spirited chatter and cheery faces all around. The effervescence was contagious. A wide smile stretched across Ying's face.

"Get out of the way!" a scratchy voice yelled, accompanied by the loud thumping of mechanical legs against the pavement.

Strong fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist, pulling her to the side. She lost her balance and wobbled, but instead of falling onto the rough pavement, she found her cheek pressing against Ye-yang's sturdy chest.

"Are you hurt?" Ye-yang asked.

Ying flexed her ankles, then shook her head. She was startled, but unharmed. She turned to look toward the culprit—a massive steam-driven carriage that had hurtled obnoxiously past on its spiderlike legs, oblivious to the many pedestrians that filled the street. She had been lucky. In its wake, many casualties were sprawled by the roadside, merchants wailing because their wares had been mercilessly knocked over by the reckless driver.

"There's no shortage of these pretentious young nobles around," Ye-yang said. "That carriage belonged to the Ula clan. They've been troublesome lately. They seem to think that with Ye-lin deposed, the next in line to take over the High Commander's mantle will be Number Fourteen, Lady Odval's son."

Ye-kan?

Ying didn't think he had that sort of ambition, but she also knew that it might not be up to him to decide. The competition for High Command was accompanied by strong undercurrents, involving many clans. The thought that Ye-yang and Ye-kan might stand in opposition one day dampened her mood.

"Come," Ye-yang said, taking her by the hand.

Her fingers instinctively stiffened at his touch, then she slowly let them close around his. It felt comfortable, like they were two ordinary young people in a blossoming relationship, without the walls placed between them by their respective identities and the burdens that came with that.

They continued walking along one of the main canals toward the outer fringes of the capital, leaving the lantern-lit streets and buzz of the night markets behind. Along the way, Ying saw several groups of children setting lotus lanterns afloat on the canal waters, and the memory of doing the same not so long ago lit a warm flicker in her heart.

"The city walls?" she murmured, looking up at the imposing gray brick looming ahead, forming a fortified barrier around the perimeter of Fei's riches.

Ye-yang merely smiled, leading the way up a flight of steps. The soldiers they passed by bowed and stepped aside, granting them free passage up to the top of the wall. Ying noticed a few of them peering curiously her way, and she was grateful for the cover provided by her veil.

"When I need some space to be alone, to clear my mind, I like to come up here," Ye-yang said. He walked up to a crenel of the stone battlement, looking out at the horizon beyond.

Ying peered down the long stretch of granite wall, reminiscent of the body of a dragon snaking quietly into the night, with beacons of flame lighting up the darkness at regular intervals. The smell of gunpowder wafted in the air, tickling her nose.

She walked up to Ye-yang's side, a gasp escaping from her lips when she saw the view before her.

"You can see the entire city from up here," she exclaimed, marveling at the intricate landscape of canals, bridges, and soaring pagodas that littered her field of view. Lit by incandescent lamps and lanterns that looked like a patchwork of dancing fireflies, the capital was shining in the dark. This was the Fei of her dreams, the city that she had imagined so many times in her mind.

Ye-yang nodded, then he turned to the parapet on the other side.

"Fei is quite magical at night," he said, "but I find that I like the view better on this side."

Ying followed, and the vibrant city lights were replaced by utter calm.

"It's the sea…"

"Yes. Unlike the city, the sea knows no bounds."

On the other side of the city wall, the ocean glistened mysteriously under the moonlight. Ying closed her eyes, concentrating on the sound of the waves rushing against the shore. For a moment she thought she had been transported back to Huarin, standing atop the cliffs. She stretched her arms out on both sides, letting the sea breeze dance upon her fingertips.

"A-ma, one day I'm going to jump right off this cliff and fly," she had once said.

"You can do anything as long as you put your mind to it, my lamb."

She opened her eyes and the spell broke. She was back in Fei. The memory from her childhood faded back into the recesses of her mind.

Ye-yang placed his fur cloak upon her shoulders, saying, "You're still recovering from the trial…and your little night break-in. Don't catch a chill."

Ying turned to him in surprise. "How did you know?" she asked.

"Nergui."

"Of course. And did he report it as a crime so despicable and outrageous that I should be stripped of my position as your nominated candidate?"

"His exact words were: ‘an undeserving fraud from some rural backwater who has to resort to cheating in order to stay in the guild,'?" the beile replied, hints of a smile toying at the corners of his lips.

The muscles of Ying's cheeks twitched. "I wouldn't have expected any less from him," she said drily.

"Why were you in Gerel's workshop?" There was a curiosity in his tone, but no judgment.

"Do you think I was there to steal the trial question?"

Ye-yang shook his head. "Of course not. I trust you enough to know that you wouldn't do something like that. And I hope you trust me enough to tell me the truth."

Ying turned and held his gaze, those crystal-clear irises reflecting a sincerity that she had come to believe in.

Since coming to Fei, she had told no one about the real reason she was here, about her father's murder and her quest for justice. Every step she had taken had been fraught with difficulty and peril, and there were times when she was tempted to give up and run home, because she was afraid that she would lose her life here before achieving a single thing she had hoped to achieve.

It was exhausting, being alone. Carrying this burden on her own.

But Ye-yang understands, she thought. If there was one person who would understand what she was going through, it would be him. He was all alone too, struggling to survive among a pack of wolves, with no one to rely on except himself. And had he not been beside her every step of the way, since she embarked on this journey through uncharted waters?

He was the one who opened this door for her—and then held her hand through it all.

"You don't have to say anything if you—"

"I was looking for a clue," she admitted. "Something that could help me find my a-ma's murderer, or tell me why he was killed. I know that someone from the guild was involved, but I don't know how and I don't know who." The words rushed out of her like a river bursting its dam.

"Your father's death? What do you mean?" Ye-yang's gaze flickered, and his expression turned somber.

"Someone broke into his workshop to steal some of his work, but when he refused to surrender it, they killed him." Her voice choked up as the images of what happened that fateful day came flooding back to mind. She reached between the folds of her robes and took out the black jade pendant, holding it out on her palm.

Ye-yang picked it up, running his fingers along the grooves carved in the smooth stone. He frowned briefly, then relaxed as he continued studying the pendant.

"I snatched this from the man who murdered my father," Ying explained. "Do you recognize it?"

"No." He shook his head. "But do you have any suspicions about its owner? What makes you think someone from the Engineers Guild is involved?"

Ying bit down on her lower lip, the anger toward the mastermind and his accomplices surging inside her once more. "Someone from the guild warned my brother against investigating A-ma's death. That person must know something. At first, I thought the Great Jade Empire could have been behind it—the dragon is their royal symbol, isn't it? And hetian jade comes from there. But I haven't found any other clues pointing in that direction." Was it because she hadn't been searching hard enough? Had she been too distracted by the guild's tests that she had left her father's grievance to flounder? "Actually, I haven't found much at all," she added miserably, thankful that she could hide her shame behind her veil.

"So that's why you were so interested in my weiqi set." Ye-yang placed the jade pendant back on her palm, gently closing her fingers around it. "Keep this safe and don't show it to anyone. If the men who murdered your father know that you are searching for them, then you will also be in danger. If you want to protect your father's memory and what he has worked for, then the best you can do is to stay alive. Finish the guild's trial and do the work that your father couldn't."

Anger and helplessness swirled inside her as she listened. If only she was stronger, then she would have less to fear from these faceless enemies.

"I'll try to help you ask around and see if I can find anything helpful, but, Ying, take it from someone who's been through this before. There is no purpose in revenge, except to bring yourself more pain," he said quietly. He rested his hands upon the cold stone, pensive. After a long pause, he continued. "My e-niye passed on when I was twelve. Her dying wish was to return home to Yokre."

"Yokre…That's the exiled clan. The tenth isle…"

The Antaran people only ever spoke of the nine isles, but everyone knew that there was a tenth. Its name was never openly spoken since the establishment of the Aogiya High Command and unification of the nine isles, but stories of the feud between the incumbent High Commander and the chieftain of Yokre continued to spread across the grasslands. Yokre had once been the most powerful Antaran clan, and the only one who continued to resist Aogiya command, even till this day.

A bitter laugh escaped from Ye-yang's lips. "You cannot exile someone who never belonged in the first place," he said. "My uncle has few strengths, but stubbornness is one of them. Yokre refused to bow to the High Commander, choosing instead to look toward the Empire for support. Antaran swords cut down Antaran men, all because of the promise of power."

"What happened to your mother?"

"She was gravely ill. She begged the High Commander to let her return to her homeland one last time, but he said no. He forced her to make the cruel choice between her family and her son's future. As if rejecting a dying woman's wish wasn't enough, he chose to wage war against my uncle. If not for the devastation she suffered because of that, perhaps she would have survived."

Ying saw the way the beile's gaze hardened as he recounted his mother's tragic tale. There was anger in the way his fingers gripped the granite ledge. So many years had passed, yet the scars still remained.

"You wanted to seek revenge for her death?" she ventured hesitantly. "But he's your father. The closest blood relation you have."

"I did," Ye-yang admitted. "It took me many years before I learned how pointless it was. The dead cannot be brought back to life, Ying. Sometimes the best thing we can do for them is to let go and live better. My e-niye would have wanted that, and I'm sure your a-ma would feel the same."

"Easier said than done," Ying murmured. Ye-yang took years to overcome his grief, while her own wound was still raw and bleeding. The sea breeze sent a chill down her spine, and she pulled Ye-yang's cloak a little tighter around her shoulders.

"I will inherit the High Commander's mantle one day, Ying," Ye-yang suddenly said, a quiet determination in his words.

Ying was startled by his declaration. Everyone knew that the four beiles were contenders for the position, but for him to openly admit his ambition was dangerous—and showed how much he trusted her.

"I will become the next High Commander, a better one than he can ever be. One day, I'll even have the Empire beneath my feet. That is how I will do justice to my mother's name, and how I will properly lay her to rest." He turned to look at her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "If I want to conquer the world, will you stand by my side?"

A breath hitched in Ying's throat. It was such an alluring, grandiose proposal—yet it was also an impossibility. At best, she would only be able to serve him as an engineer, a subordinate. She could never be his partner or his equal. This version of them that could walk hand in hand among crowded streets and admire the endless seas together—was only a passing dream.

The selfish part of her didn't want him to become High Commander. She didn't want the gulf between them to widen until she could no longer reach him.

Yet she knew he would make a brilliant High Commander. She believed in that.

"Look! A meteor shower!" She pointed past his shoulder toward the sky, grateful for the distraction that allowed her to avoid answering a question she didn't yet know how to.

A glittering array of shooting stars was streaking across the inky black canvas.

"We have to make a wish." Ying clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she turned and found Ye-yang looking at her, his dimple deepening with the indulgent smile he wore.

"What did you wish for?" he asked.

"Don't you know that if you tell someone what your wish is, then it won't come true?" she scolded. "Why didn't you make a wish?"

"I don't believe in wishes. If I want something, then I'll make it come true myself."

"Oh really. So what is the wish that you're going to realize all by yourself, Beile-ye?" she teased, intentionally using his formal address to mock his arrogance.

He took a step toward her, until she could feel his warm breath tickling her forehead. The soft glow cast by the tranquil moon reflected a twinkle in his storm-gray eyes. Then he bent over, pressing his lips lightly against hers through the soft, barely there fabric of her veil.

"This," he murmured.

In that moment, Ying's mind was too astounded to think of anything but the warmth of his lips upon hers and the fingertips pressing against the small of her back—but if he had asked her again whether or not she would be willing to stay by his side—her heart might have said yes.

This would be the fifth—no, sixth—game of weiqi Ying had lost in a row. It was a record, considering she was one of the best weiqi players in the class. She hadn't even realized that the game was over, still flicking her white seed between her fingers.

The apprentice hopefuls had come to learn that Strategy class was as unpredictable as the master in charge of it. One lesson they would be dabbling in cutting-edge engineering technology and the next they would be forced to spend hours playing nothing but weiqi on the guild's front courtyard, in the freezing cold. "A master of strategy is a master of weiqi, and the cold clears the mind," Master Lianshu said, but they reckoned it was only an excuse for her to skive, because she would disappear for practically the whole lesson and reappear only to dismiss them and comment on how lacking their weiqi skills were.

"What's gotten into you?" Ye-kan asked, frowning as he swept all their seeds off the board. "Are you patronizing me?"

"No. You've been improving." She caught his skeptical look and added, "Really, since when have I given in to you, ever?"

The prince still looked unconvinced, though he let the matter slide. He slowly started sorting the seeds into their respective receptacles. "You're distracted though," he said. "Something happened last night. What was it?"

Ying blinked back her surprise. When she had returned to the guild after her night with Ye-yang, all the other boys in the room had already drifted off to sleep. She had assumed the same of Ye-kan, who had been curled up against the wall as usual. Apparently, she had been mistaken.

"Nothing happened," she fibbed, grabbing one of the bowls from his hand. She picked up a few white seeds, dropping them into the container absentmindedly. She had been trying, unsuccessfully, to push the memory of the kiss out of her mind, but Ye-kan's reminder shoved it back in once more.

She was almost annoyed with Ye-yang—even though deep down she wasn't unhappy about it.

Ye-kan flicked a seed at her. "You were with Ye-yang, weren't you?"

"How did you know?" Ying yelped.

"You obviously can't use the common baths, yet you come back with wet hair after everyone has gone to sleep. You can't be using Gerel's bathing quarters, can you?" Ye-kan narrowed his eyes, observing her suspiciously. "Does he know?"

Ying's shoulders sagged with relief. It was about the bath, not the rest of what transpired last night.

"No," she lied.

"Then what excuse did you give? Number Eight isn't that charitable, to let someone like you use his bath for no reason. If he doesn't know who you really are, then you must have something else that is of use to him."

"What does a kid like you know?" Ying reached over and slapped Ye-kan over the head. She was offended on Ye-yang's behalf. "Ye-yang only appears aloof and distant, but he's really not like that. Don't say such things about your brother."

"In case you've forgotten, one of my brothers wanted to do away with the rest of us. He's now rotting in the Juwan mines."

Ying pressed her lips together and thought long and hard, but she couldn't come up with a good retort. The Aogiya family was not like any other. In the Antaran territories, the Aogiyas were royalty and familial ties wore thin when power politics came into play.

"He's not like that," was all she mustered.

"Do you…like him?" Ye-kan asked, leaning forward across the weiqi board and tilting his face sideways so that he could see her reaction. He almost looked worried.

Ying slammed her container of seeds down onto the board and stood up. "This conversation is getting too ridiculous," she declared, turning to leave. The incense stick at the foot of the stairs had just fizzled out, which meant that Strategy class was over. This time, Master Lianshu hadn't even bothered to reappear for dismissal.

"You like him," Ye-kan repeated, scrambling to chase after her. They marched through the other pairs of weiqi players toward the stone steps. "Are you out of your mind? Of all the men there are out there, you had to fall for Number Eight?"

"I did not fall for him." The words didn't sound very convincing even to herself. "And I don't need you to tell me who I should or shouldn't like." Why was Ye-kan even so concerned about this? And who was he to sound upset if she did?

Ying marched up the long flight of stairs, eyes fixed directly ahead instead of looking at the fourteenth prince. She could hear Chang-en calling out to her from behind, but she wasn't in the mood.

Ye-kan was very persistent.

"Number Eight is exactly like the rest of them—the only thing he cares about is the High Commander's seat. You're just another piece on his weiqi board!" Ye-kan dropped his voice into a whisper. "He doesn't even know you're a girl, and what if he finds out? Do you think he'll marry you? Maybe he will—you and a whole cartload of other women, one from each major clan in the Eight Banners."

"That's enough!" Ying whirled around and glared at Ye-kan, eyes blazing with fury. "I already said, things aren't like that. And even if they are, it's still my decision to make, not yours. I don't care if you're a prince and you're used to people being at your beck and call. You're nobody to me." Ying stepped back, shaking her head. "Why do you even care so much about what I do and who I like? We're not related in any way, and we're not even friends."

The moment the words left her lips, she knew she had gone overboard. They had only just mended their relationship, and now things would be strained once more. Ye-kan gave her a frosty stare, and for a moment she thought she saw the shadow of a tempest inside them—reminiscent of the High Commander. Then he shoved past her so hard that she almost tripped and fell on the steps. She wobbled, quickly readjusting her center of gravity so she wouldn't end up with a broken neck.

"Ye-kan, I'm sorry," she called out. "I didn't mean it that way. I—"

Chang-en ran up the stairs to join her, looking up at Ye-kan's retreating silhouette. "What's with him?" he asked. "And didn't you hear me calling you?"

"It's nothing," Ying mumbled, continuing the upward trudge. She would have to try apologizing to Ye-kan again later, once he had some time to cool down. He would forgive her eventually, like Nian always did after she messed up.

"Quorin wants to see us four beile-sponsored candidates at his workshop," An-xi said, catching up with them.

"What about?"

Chang-en shrugged. "Don't know. Why don't we go find out?"

The trio made their way over to Quorin's workshop. Arban was already there, having dashed one step ahead, eager to maintain a good impression. Once they were all gathered, the aged grand master broke the seal of the envelope in his hand, severing the crimson ink cobra into two gruesome halves. He gingerly unfolded the letter within, as if it would disintegrate in his wrinkled fingers if he were not extra careful. He did a quick sweep of the four young men standing in front of him, clearing his throat.

"The High Commander has invited you to the victory banquet that will be held at the Qianlei Palace in two days' time," he said. "As such, the guild will grant you leave of absence from your evening classes, but you are to return immediately after the banquet."

"Us? We're invited to the banquet?" Chang-en's jaw hung wide open, extending his already long-drawn face into a comical oblong. "But why?"

"Insolent brat." The grand master picked up the mahogany ruyi that was sitting on his table, knocking Chang-en on the head with it. "Just because you have the backing of the first beile and the Tongiya clan doesn't mean you are in any position to question the High Commander's decisions. The four of you"—he looked toward the others—"are only attending at the behest of the beiles. All of them have made impressive contributions to the Antaran campaign, hence you should be immensely grateful to be basking in their glory. As potential apprentices of the Engineers Guild, I expect all of you to be on your best behavior during the banquet. Eat your food and don't create any unnecessary trouble, else I will not hesitate to strip you of your candidacy, regardless of your backing—is that clear?"

"Yes, Grand Master Quorin," they chorused.

The door to Quorin's workshop shut curtly behind them once they stepped out, with such decisive force that it stirred a small breeze to tickle the back of Ying's neck. She shivered, pulling her collar a little higher.

"Qianlei Palace—can you believe it? We get to attend the first banquet that'll ever be held in the palace!" Chang-en chirped. Beside him, An-xi was staring ahead, starry-eyed.

Ying remembered seeing the gold-topped roofs of the palace on her first day in Fei. It was still incomplete then. Over four months had already flown past since she arrived in the capital, and in two days she would have the good fortune of witnessing a monumental event—one that symbolized a new era in Antaran history.

For anyone else, this opportunity was certainly a blessing from Abka Han, but for her, this was a terrible predicament. It would be difficult enough avoiding Wen while they were both in the same city—but to be at the same banquet?

"Why are you wearing Ye-kan's silly hat?" An-xi asked when he saw Ying emerge from the guild compound.

She made her way toward the steam carriage that was parked outside the guild gates, where Chang-en and An-xi were waiting in their best attire. Arban had gone on ahead, not wanting to be stuck in their company.

Her two friends had sent word home immediately upon finding out about the banquet invitation, and their families had rushed to prepare new robes for them, eager to ensure that their clan names would not pale in comparison to any others. Ying had a new outfit too—a mandarin jacket the shade of azurite with silver cloud-patterned embroidery trellising along the sides, thrown on top of a simple yet elegant black long inner robe. It had come from the fourth beile's manor, reluctantly delivered by Nergui. He had shoved the entire bundle into her arms and then left with a loud grunt.

Unfortunately she could not enjoy the luxurious feel of the expensive silk against her skin, because she was itching too much from the pigmented dye that she had applied to her face, to create the appearance of blisters and pustules. When she came up to the others, she lifted the thin veil to reveal the fiery craters that lined her skin.

The duo recoiled in horror and disgust.

"What happened to you?" Chang-en exclaimed, waving his hand to get her to lower the veil.

"Allergic reaction," she mumbled.

The inspiration came from Ye-kan during the first guild test. The prince still wasn't speaking to her, but she figured she had been somewhat forgiven because she found the hat and a small tub of red cream lying on top of her trunk this morning. Ye-kan had a stinging tongue but a soft heart.

She had gone to Quorin earlier in the day to inform him of her little affliction, hoping to be granted leave of absence from the banquet. Unfortunately, he hadn't been in a charitable mood. He gave her a tongue-lashing for her carelessness, then sent her on her way. "No one has the gall to turn down an invitation from the High Commander" were his exact words.

"You too?" An-xi raised an eyebrow. "Maybe Ye-kan has some contagious disease that he spread to you because you sleep next to him." He took two steps back and slipped his hands into the sleeves of his sapphire-blue embroidered jacket, eyeing Ying suspiciously.

"Your imagination amazes me, Niohuru," Chang-en said. "In that case, maybe Min has passed the affliction to me too, since I sleep next to him." He inched closer to An-xi, just to ruffle the boy's feathers some more.

An-xi quickly scrambled up the carriage. "Come on, let's get going. We don't want to be late for such an important occasion," he said, shooting Chang-en a look of disgust.

Every bump along the road rattled Ying's nerves as the carriage rumbled its way down the streets toward the newly constructed palace of the Aogiya High Command. She lifted the curtains of the carriage and peeked anxiously toward their destination. The palace roofs had come into view—gracefully sloping eaves and gold-glazed tiles with emerald trim reflecting the rays of the setting sun with a blinding radiance. Today, guests would step foot into the majestic palace compound for the first time since its completion, the first of its kind for the Antarans. It was a sure symbol of greater things to come, a hint toward the ambitious future that the High Commander had planned—starting with the victory at Fu-li.

Ying adjusted the rim of the straw hat she was wearing, its thin veil providing little assurance to her insecurities. She prayed that it would be enough of a disguise for her as it had been for Ye-kan.

The carriage crossed a bridge and they arrived at the majestic white stone archway leading to the front courtyard of the Qianlei Palace. It came to a stop, and a palace attendant lifted the curtain to inform them that they were to complete the rest of the journey on foot. One by one they alighted, breathless at the grandeur that stood before them.

Qianlei Palace—the Palace of a Thousand Thunders—was unlike anything they had ever seen. The sprawling compound comprised numerous buildings that ran on either side of a central axis, lining an elongated courtyard that led the way to an imposing octagonal hall. This was the main hall of the palace—the Qinzheng Hall—with its thick crimson pillars and curved roof arches lined with glazed ridges, topped with the signature gold roof tiles that embellished every palace building. This was where the victory banquet was to be held.

The palace attendants led the banquet guests down the expansive stone courtyard along a path lined with towering bronze statues of former Antaran heroes, lighting the way with small oval lanterns hanging from bamboo poles. Audible gasps and exclamations escaped the lips of the guests, as their eyes continued to absorb the breathtaking splendor of the palace grounds.

"I have no words for this," Chang-en declared as they stepped across the raised threshold and entered the Qinzheng Hall.

Ying's gaze swept across the intricately carved stone pillars and the impressive murals stretching along the roof beams and the ceiling, toward the calligraphy that hung on the walls and the red wooden lattice panels that lined the perimeter. Neat rows of low rosewood tables had been set up on the left and right of the hall, the silk-cushioned seats slowly filling up.

"Your seats are over here, my lords," the attendant who had been in charge of guiding them said, bowing politely before he took his leave.

An-xi took one glance at their assigned position and scowled. He sank down onto his seat, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath. As mere apprentice-designates of the guild, they had been relegated to the back row on the left of the hall, farthest from where the High Commander would be seated. From their vantage point, they could barely see anything from between the heads of the officials seated in front.

Ying heaved a sigh of relief at what they had been given and quickly slid into hers. She ran her fingers along the wooden floor, amazed at the warmth radiating from beneath.

"Steam pipes, running right beneath our feet," Chang-en explained. "Try this—it's top-grade." He reached over and pushed a porcelain cup toward Ying. An attendant had filled the cup with clear golden liquid with an intoxicating aroma. "Comes from the Empire, so you won't find any of it in a regular tavern or restaurant."

Ying raised the cup to her nose and gave it a sniff, then she took a hesitant sip. The sweetness took her by surprise, a burst of honey and fruit exploding inside her mouth, before it seared all the way down her throat and left a burning warmth in the pit of her stomach. She took another gulp, this time finishing every single drop that had been in the cup.

"Slow down. It's stronger than you think," Chang-en warned, chuckling when he saw her beckon for a refill.

Almost all the seats were filled now, save for a couple in the front row nearer the inner section of the hall. Most of the younger princes had arrived, easily identifiable from the identical silver embroidery of a coiled snake across their silk robes of varying colors. Ye-kan was nowhere to be seen, which could only mean that he had found some excuse to absent himself. Since he knew that Chang-en, An-xi, and Arban would be attending, he probably didn't want them finding out his true identity.

In between sips of her second cup of wine, Ying caught a glimpse of a familiar figure appearing at the entrance. She lowered her head immediately, the edge of her black veil sweeping across the rim of her wine cup.

Wen.

Ying sank a little lower in her seat. Wen looked like he had aged tremendously in the four months that she had been away, his deep-set eyes reflecting a conflicting mix of weariness and vigilance. Here, he was a fish out of water. She could sense the apprehension with every step he took, his eyes constantly darting back and forth, as if mistrustful of the other guests that filled the hall.

She felt a pang of sympathy for her brother. Like her, Wen had never ventured so far from Huarin before. In the short span of a few months, he had not only left their tiny isle and fought in a fierce battle on distant soil, he was also entering Fei for the first time. There was no shortage of condescending glances thrown his way from the stuck-up officials and nobles of the capital.

She watched Wen assume his position behind the chieftain of the Ula clan. An attendant came up to him to offer wine and he nodded stiffly in response, taking a big swig out of his cup.

A gong was struck and a hushed silence immediately fell upon the Qinzheng Hall.

The High Commander entered, and even from where she was Ying could feel the repressive aura that rippled through the hall. He swept in like a hurricane, marching straight for his seat—a throne-like ebony chair the shade of night, whose backrest rose upward and curved into the carved head of a spitting cobra, polished several times over until its glossy veneer shone.

Behind him came his principal wife, Lady Odval—Ye-kan's mother—decked resplendently in shimmering turquoise silk and a dozen gold filigree pins in her hair, followed by the four beiles. She would be the only woman of the harem deemed worthy of a seat at tonight's banquet.

Ying's gaze drifted toward the young man who was picking up the rear, walking in a calm and unassuming manner, as if oblivious to the attention he was receiving. He was the hero of tonight's banquet, yet he seemed content to fade into the backdrop and be his brothers' shadow. As he walked toward his seat of honor, his gray eyes remained placid pools, still and tranquil. Her heart fluttered.

Aogiya Lianzhe stepped up the dais and turned to face the crowd. Everyone dropped to their knees in a respectful kowtow.

"May His Excellency live for a thousand years!"