Chapter 20

As the chorus of voices rang out across the octagonal hall, Ying thought she caught a hint of a crease appearing on the High Commander's forehead, but it was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced with a congenial smile.

"Rise," he said, his voice resonating with the richness of well-fermented wine. "It is indeed a joyous occasion, to be celebrating the victory of our men and the completion of the Qianlei Palace. We, the Eight Banners and the Antaran people, have gone where our forefathers never dared venture. Mark my words—this is only the beginning. The Antaran dynasty has only just arrived."

"What dynasty is it that you speak of, Your Excellency?" a shrill voice echoed from the entrance, sounding like fingernails scratching against yun-mu glass. A tall, lanky figure entered the hall flanked by two burly soldiers, strutting down the center aisle with the confidence of a proud peacock.

At one glance, Ying knew that the entrant was Qirin—not Antaran. His full head of hair was secured in a topknot and concealed under a black gauze hat, and his vermilion round-necked gown bore an embroidered crane that represented his rank in the Empire's royal court. She gripped her cup tightly to stop her fingers from trembling.

Qirin. The Empire.

And there at the left breast of the Qirin soldiers' clean white uniforms was a dragon stitched in gold thread—a symbol of their service to the Qirin emperor.

This was the first time Ying was seeing the dragon symbol in Fei. But was it the same dragon carved into the assassin's jade pendant? She craned her neck, but it was impossible to get a clearer look. Her hand instinctively moved toward her chest, where the black pendant remained hidden beneath her robes.

The man walked up to the raised dais, bowing half-heartedly to the High Commander. "Apologies for my tardiness, Your Excellency," he said. "I am Ambassador Huang, here at the behest of His Imperial Majesty of the Great Jade Empire, Emperor Ren-zu, Lord of Ten Thousand Years. I would have arrived earlier, except Fei's harbor was too shallow to accommodate our ship. We had to drop anchor farther offshore."

"Then it is I who should apologize for the inadequacies of our capital," the High Commander said, his steely gaze piercing the brazen envoy. "We were not expecting the Empire to send anyone, so we had not prepared a seat for you." He waved his hand and the attendants brought out a spare table and seat cushion, positioning it at the esteemed position to the right of the dais, ahead of even the beiles.

The Qirin ambassador took his seat, impervious to the undertones in the High Commander's words. "I have come to negotiate the terms of the truce on behalf of His Imperial Majesty," he said, saluting in the direction of the Empire with his fist in palm. "I believe you will find our terms quite generous."

"A truce?" The second beile scoffed. "Half your men threw down their arms and surrendered without a fight while the other half fled from Fu-li like a bunch of spineless cowards. It was a complete and utter defeat! I don't see what terms there are to speak of."

"How dare you!" The ambassador pointed a trembling finger at Erden, the color draining from his already pasty complexion. "You barbarians should be grateful that His Imperial Majesty would even—"

"Enough," the High Commander interjected. "Erden, do not be rude. Regardless of the reason, the ambassador is here as our guest and shall be treated with civility, as is the Antaran way." He glanced sideways at the skinny Qirin man, whose large nostrils were quivering with rage. "Ambassador, I invite you to join us for tonight's festivities, and we can leave the negotiations till morning." He clapped his hands twice, and a stream of attendants entered the hall carrying the first course of the banquet.

The tension in the air immediately dissipated.

"Qirin scum," An-xi muttered. "If not for their rich and fertile hinterlands, they would be nothing. Look at him, he wouldn't even last half a day on the nine isles."

"Let him have his moment," Chang-en said. "The Empire's days are numbered."

"It's not that simple. One victory at Fu-li means nothing. We caught them by surprise this time, but there won't be a second time. The emperor may be weak, but they have no shortage of loyal generals and clever tacticians, and their airship fleet…" An-xi tightened his grip around his wine cup. "I'm not sure our engineers are doing enough."

"You worry too much, Niohuru." Chang-en picked up a few sautéed bamboo shoots with his chopsticks, and shoved them into his mouth. "This is good. Very, very good."

"Stuff yourself to death," An-xi retorted, rolling his eyes.

Ying sat silently, listening to the exchange float back and forth. Her fingers rested on her chopsticks, and she stared down at the spread that had been laid out before her, but her mind wasn't able to focus on the delicacies. She knew little about the political tension between the Antarans and the Qirins, but she had seen enough in the preceding minutes to know that they were on the brink of a turbulent storm.

Midway through the banquet, the High Commander's chief steward called the guests to attention with the sounding of a small gong. When the noise in the hall toned down, he held out the scroll in his hands and slowly unfurled it, revealing the exquisite gold silk backing that encased the parchment.

Clearing his throat, he said, "By decree of His Excellency the High Commander, the Eight Banners have fought valiantly for the Antaran territories and deserve high praise for their achievements. For answering the call of the Seven Grievances that the Antaran territories have suffered at the hands of the Great Jade Empire"—the Qirin ambassador flinched—"the following rewards are to be bestowed."

The steward rattled off a long list of names. All the commanding generals of the different banners needed to be recognized, as did the chieftains of the various clans that volunteered men and resources toward this cause. Wen's name was called. He stood up and bowed respectfully to the High Commander, earning a mere nod in acknowledgment.

Was it worth it? Receiving fifty horses, twenty bolts of silk, and a trunk of silver taels in exchange for the blood that had been spilled by their clansmen? To Ying, the answer was an obvious no, but she wasn't the clan chieftain.

"To the first, second, and third beiles, for their leadership of their respective banners in supporting the advance on Fu-li, His Excellency grants fifty bolts of silk, five mu of land, and two hundred taels of gold. To the fourth beile, for offering the strategy and for overall command of the Eight Banners—one hundred bolts of silk, ten mu of land, a jade ruyi, and three hundred taels of gold."

The four beiles got to their feet and bowed to the High Commander, raising their voices in thanks.

Ying's eyes did a sweep across the hall as she chewed on her pickled black fungus. Several officials were whispering to one another, while several others looked pensive as they swirled the wine in their cups. With the victory at Fu-li, the currents within the Aogiya High Command would shift once again, as it had done when the former first beile was exiled. Ye-yang—the youngest of the four beiles—now wore the biggest target on his back.

"Your Excellency," a familiar voice called out, "may I present a gift to celebrate this joyous occasion?"

Wen was standing once again, waiting patiently for the High Commander to acknowledge his request. A low buzz went around as the guests debated the identity of this unfamiliar face.

Ying thought to fire a few darts at the pompous-looking men and women who were looking at her brother as they would a worm. They scorned his worn brocade robes, which bore none of the fancy embroidery favored by the people of Fei. As if clothes made a man. She knew it was Wen's best—he would have worn that same outfit proudly on the day he assumed clan leadership.

"Young Aihui Wen," the High Commander said, crow's feet appearing at the corners of his eyes as they crinkled into a smile, "I had been meaning to speak with you. My condolences on your father's passing. Your father and I…we go a long way back." He lowered his lids momentarily, and then those slate-gray irises regained their incisiveness. "Ula Temuu spoke highly of you the last time he was in the capital, and Temuu doesn't praise others often."

So the diplomatic visit by the Ula clan went well, Ying thought. Her muscles tensed as she waited, praying that neither Wen nor the High Commander would mention anything that could expose her presence here.

"What gift is it you speak of?"

"Your Excellency, it is only a dance—a small token of our appreciation toward your generosity. I fear it is too meager for as grand a stage as this."

"Nonsense." The High Commander turned to his steward, and moments later the palace musicians scurried in, readying their instruments. Brightly colored drums in varying shapes and sizes lined both sides of the hall, painted with the stylized images of the beasts that roamed the nine isles. "Come, let us show our Qirin guests what Antaran hospitality and grace looks like. The women of the grasslands are bold and spirited, quite unlike those that you have back home, Ambassador Huang."

The Qirin ambassador merely grunted.

A few dancers dressed in light satin and gauze outfits of snowy white entered the hall, balancing precariously on their qixie—embroidered shoes with high platforms resembling the hooves of a horse. Ying feared for their safety. Those shoes did not look like they were made for walking in, yet it seemed to be the trend among the well-groomed women of Fei.

"Nian?" she gasped, straightening her back.

Bringing up the rear was a petite figure dressed in fiery red, standing out from the others like a blossom amid the snow. On her head was a traditional Antaran headdress with cascading pearl beads that rustled like rain as she moved, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

"You know her?" Chang-en whispered.

"That's my younger sister. But I don't know what she's doing here."

"I would think that's quite obvious." An-xi snorted.

But it wasn't to Ying. She itched to push aside that cumbersome veil so that she could get a better look at the girl who had now taken her position in the center of the hall.

Nian's slender arms stretched out elegantly on both sides, fingers arched and poised as she waited for the musicians to begin. With the first beat of the drum, she flew into motion, spinning round and round on those unstable heels. The bells she wore on her wrists and ankles tinkled melodiously, melding seamlessly with the rhythm of the percussion.

Ying hadn't even known that her sister knew how to walk in those shoes, much less dance in them. While she had always scorned more traditional forms of Antaran entertainment like song and dance, Nian had reveled in them. Pride welled up inside her as she watched her little sister twirl and leap confidently across the floor, the other dancers only serving to accentuate her radiance. In the dimmed hall, Nian was a phoenix lighting up the night.

For a rare moment, Ying missed being able to live as a girl. Being able to wear those beaded headdresses that she loved, don colorful dresses with patterns of flowers and butterflies that her e-niye used to sew, and dancing around a lit bonfire on the Huarin grasslands with all the other girls.

The atmosphere in the Qinzheng Hall crystallized for what felt like an eternity, before the final stroke hit the sheepskin surface of the drum and the last reverberating baritone echoed from wall to varnished wall.

Nian leapt and two silk ribbons came flying out from her sleeves, to the astonished gasps of the audience, rippling dramatically like flames licking the air. She landed lightly on the wooden floor, soundlessly, elegantly, bringing a regretful close to the breathtaking performance.

The hall erupted in rapturous cheers and applause.

Wen beamed from ear to ear. Everyone had been enthralled and impressed by Nian's performance. Even the conceited Qirin ambassador had his eyebrows raised, as if questioning how such a dance was possible from the supposed "barbarians" of the Antaran isles.

Ying watched the faces of the many guests, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon the lithe figure of her sister. All except a pair of compelling gray eyes that were looking directly at her.

She choked on the mouthful of wine she had in her mouth, exploding in a fit of coughs and splutters.

What is wrong with him?!

Her cheeks were burning. She wasn't certain if it was from the alcohol or the embarrassment brought about by Ye-yang's unabashed stare. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling.

The High Commander's pleased laughter resonated across the hall. "This is a true showcase of the talent of the grasslands!" he said, clapping his hands thrice. He glanced at Ambassador Huang. "What point is there in binding and restraining your women, if it means you don't get to witness such beauty?"

Ying scoffed at the hypocrisy. There were still plenty of barriers that existed against women in Antaran society, despite what the High Commander claimed—her inability to enter the Engineers Guild as a girl being one of them.

Aogiya Lianzhe turned his attention toward Wen. "It is a magnificent gift you have brought tonight, young Aihui," he said. "Who might this beautiful young lady be?"

"This is my sister, Aihui Nian, Your Excellency."

"Ah, the Aihui clan is indeed blessed, to have such a promising new generation. Your father would be very proud. Your brother—"

Ying stopped breathing.

"A-ma, perhaps we should let the girl stand first," Ye-yang suddenly interrupted. "She's been kneeling for too long."

Aogiya Lianzhe laughed. "Does it pain you to watch a beauty suffer like this?" he joked. "Indeed, we should not torture the poor child any further." He beckoned toward the kneeling girl. "Come, child, stand and lift your head."

Ying slowly exhaled, relieved by her narrow escape.

Nian hesitantly did as she was told, tilting her bowed face toward the dais. Outwardly she showed no fear, but Ying caught the way her little fingers were twitching by her side—a small habit that betrayed her sister's nervousness.

The High Commander turned to Lady Odval, saying, "She would be a suitable match for Number Fourteen, don't you agree? They are about the same age. Maybe settling down will do him some good." He looked toward the princes, searching. "Where is that boy?"

Lady Odval's porcelain complexion and demure smile fractured ever so slightly. "He was feeling under the weather, so he asked to be excused. Fourteen is still a child. He couldn't possibly settle down ahead of his older brothers." Her gaze fell deliberately upon the fourth beile, who was calmly taking a bite out of a slice of abalone. "Number Eight, maybe? It's about time he had a woman to attend to his needs."

Chang-en let out a soft whistle as he listened in on the conversation taking place at the front of the hall. "Min, looks like your younger sister made a big impression," he said. "I can't wait to see the faces of all those arrogant girls in Fei when they have their dreams of becoming a prince consort dashed. The fourteenth prince is a great option—he's Lady Odval's son after all—but the fourth beile is just as good, especially considering his latest achievement. If she's lucky, she might even become principal wife of the next High Commander."

"Lady Odval won't ever let her precious son marry someone from the Aihui clan—no offense, Min," An-xi said. "She'll be eyeing one of the more powerful clans in the capital, probably her own Ula clan. Doesn't want her son's future to be hindered by a poor match, but she has no qualms about dragging someone else down. This is why you should never underestimate a woman, especially one that has the High Commander's ear."

None of what her friends were saying was getting through to Ying. Lady Odval's lilting, unassuming words echoed painfully around her ears, as if those glittering golden nail guards fixed upon the consort's fingers were clawing through her heart and mind.

"Number Eight?" The High Commander glanced at his son, arching a thick brow. He tapped a finger pensively against his wine cup for a moment, then said, "You have a point. We'll let Number Fourteen off the hook for a while longer. Number Eight, what say you? A beauty like Aihui Nian is more than suited to be the mistress of your household."

Ying's throat tightened, beads of sweat forming on her palms. She watched as Ye-yang stood up, bowing to the High Commander palm to fist.

She knew that the choice was not his to make—yet she hoped he would choose her still.

The beile hesitated for a moment, then he bowed and said, "As you decide, A-ma."

The chopsticks that Ying had been holding slipped from her trembling fingers.

"Good, good," the High Commander bellowed, pleased with his son's deference. "It is indeed a joyous day for the Aogiya clan, with yet another thing to rejoice about." He looked toward Wen. "Young Aihui, I'll do the honor of deciding upon this betrothal, then. After the shamans have identified an auspicious date, we shall welcome your sister into the Aogiya clan. I shall have the marriage edict drafted by the morning."

Wen came up to the front and prostrated on the floor beside Nian, who promptly followed suit. "The honor is ours, Your Excellency," he said, unable to disguise the jubilation in his voice.

Ying felt her chest constricting. The thumping within was so loud that she could barely register anything else that was happening around her. She watched as Wen returned to his seat and Nian slowly backed out of the hall, together with the other dancers, and then she sprang up to her feet, knocking over her cup in her haste.

"Where're you going?" Chang-en asked, peering up at her curiously.

"I…I just need to…" She spun on her heel and dashed toward the nearest open door.

Ying stumbled out of the hall, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of her sister's silhouette. She spotted a sliver of fieriness disappearing around a corner and gave chase. Dashing down the columned gallery, she finally glimpsed Nian walking toward one of the palace buildings with the other dancers. A palace attendant led the way with a lantern in hand, directing Nian to a private room to be changed before leading the others to a separate room.

Once they were out of sight, Ying slipped into the room and shut the doors, dropping the latch behind her. Her sister had shed her dance garments and was slipping on a pale pink gown with elegant peach blossoms trellising up the skirt.

Nian spun around, her sleek, angled eyes widening in shock when she saw Ying—in her elegant men's garb—standing by the entrance. She clutched on to the cross-folds of her outer garments and opened her mouth to scream, but Ying flew over and clamped a hand over her sister's mouth.

"Nian, it's me!" she hissed, flinging off her veiled hat with her free hand.

When she saw the flicker of recognition in Nian's eyes and the girl stopped the muffled protests, she let go.

"A-jie?" Nian exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You managed to get into the guild? But what in Abka Han's name happened to your face!"

Ying walked Nian over to the daybed and sat her down, clutching her sister's petite hands in her own. She wiped off the fake pustules from her face with her sleeve, staining the material with dirty streaks.

"It's a long story. I'll explain another time," she said. "Do you even realize what happened back there? You can't let A-ge do this to you! Pluck up the courage to stand up to him and say that you won't go through with this. You're not some pawn that can be traded like that for the sake of his ambition!"

"I don't understand what you're trying to say, A-jie."

"The marriage to the fourth beile. You don't even know him. How could you let yourself be betrothed to a man that you know nothing about? This is A-ge's idea, isn't it?"

A blush crept along Nian's neck, dusting her cheeks. She pursed her lips together, then said, "I'm not like you, A-jie. There aren't so many things that I want to do with my life. I'm happy enough to be married to a good man, to be loved and cared for, and to start a family of my own just like A-ma and E-niye did. The fourth beile seems like a promising young man, and he doesn't even have any other women. It's already much better than what I could ever get back on Huarin."

The blood ran icy cold in Ying's veins as she stared in disbelief at the tiny smile that was hanging on the corners of her sister's lips. Nian looked happy. She was happy with the outcome.

"You want to marry him?" she whispered.

"A-jie, why are you asking me things like these?" Nian chided, clipping Ying on the shoulder lightly. "How do you expect me to answer you?"

She didn't have to, because Ying already knew the answer from the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face. The air in the room seemed to thin, making it increasingly difficult for her to breathe.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Lady Aihui, have you finished changing? We should be heading back to the Qinzheng Hall now," the attendant said.

"A-jie, but you haven't told me what you're doing here? Entering the guild is already dangerous enough, but this is the High Command! You could be executed if they find out about your charade," Nian asked in a hushed tone, clutching on to her sister's hand. "You should speak with A-ge. He'll help you. He's been so worried because you've been gone so long."

Ying blinked, trying desperately to calm the raging hurricane that was roaring in her mind. "No, not now. You don't have to worry about that, just help me keep this a secret. Don't tell A-ge you saw me here, understood?" She looked around the room, then got up to move toward the sandalwood screen that separated the outer from the inner quarters. "Go," she said to her sister, before disappearing behind the screen.

Squatting in the shadows, Ying listened as Nian's footsteps headed toward the double doors. The doors creaked open, then clapped shut, and the voices of Nian and the other girls slowly retreated into the distance till only a deafening silence remained.

Ying hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as she thought about Ye-yang agreeing to the marriage edict, about that bashful smile on Nian's face. This was how it was always going to be. She had seen it coming, hadn't she? Ye-yang was always going to have to marry another—except it was worse now, because that other girl was not some faceless princess, but her own sister. Could it have been her, if she had stayed in Huarin? After all, she was the older sister. Had this ending already been written in stone from the moment she boarded that ship and chose to come here? The heavens had played a terrible joke on her, yet she only had herself to blame for all the decisions she made.

After a while, Ying stood back up and stepped out from behind the screen, heading out of the room. She took a deep breath of the chilly night air, letting the cold numb the ache in her heart.

Focus, Aihui Ying, she told herself. You're not here to find a husband, you're here to seek justice, to become a great engineer, anything but that. Don't forget what you came here to do.

Easier said than done.