Chapter 23

The revelation about her father's death left Ying unmoored. She fluctuated between acceptance and denial, relief and anger, trapped within a turbulent storm of conflicting emotions.

So she flung herself into her research with an intensity and vehemence beyond anything she had ever done before, spending late nights sweating in the workshop in front of a blacksmith's forge. A sturdy pair of tongs and a worn anvil were her new best friends as she cycled through iterations of prototypes, hammering red-hot iron until it bent into the shape she desired—as if she could hammer away the truth she had yearned to find but now wished to forget.

In the center of a workshop table, sitting inside a sturdy bronze chest, was a small bamboo canister lined with layers of oiled leather. Silver liquid shimmered within, lightly teasing with its iridescence.

Devil's ore.

She'd found it on her workbench two days ago, and assumed it had come from Master Lianshu. As much as she loathed to accept anything from the woman who had indirectly caused her father's death, she needed the ore for her plans.

There were times where she would sit there staring at the silver pool, mesmerized by its beauty and terrified by its destructive power. Her father had never managed to complete his research on the air cannons, but now she was taking his research in a completely different direction—one that belonged to her alone.

What would he say if he saw this?

The guilt started creeping into her mind once more, like vines that pulled and tugged at her conscience. "Burn it," he had said. She hadn't listened. Maybe she should have, because then she would never have come to Fei and never have experienced the extent of betrayal and pain that she had been forced to go through.

After hours of melting and casting liquid metal to form crescent-shaped blades, Ying collapsed onto a chair and wiped the sweat off her brow. The hours spent in front of the intense flames of the forge were taking their toll on her, and exhaustion was written into every inch of her bones. Yet, she had never felt more alive.

Her flying guillotine was almost complete. The first weapon she had created entirely with her own effort.

If the design and construction of weaponry had been her father's area of interest, then it also ran in her blood. He had kept these out of her reach back on Huarin, peppering her mind with more tempered and harmless flights of fancy, but those had never managed to capture her imagination as much as the things she was dreaming of now.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be forging her own path.

The door creaked open and footsteps entered the workshop. Ying looked up to find Ye-kan standing by the doorway. He was peering around curiously.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is there any place I can't be?" he replied.

He walked farther in, eyeing the messy spread of papers and books laid out on the table.

"What's this?" he asked, picking up one of the sketches on the table.

It was an early design of her flying guillotine. The sketch was of a hat-like structure affixed to a long metal chain, with a series of curved blades surrounding the rim like the petals of a flower in bloom.

"You're supposed to fling it out"—she modeled the action dramatically with her right hand—"and it'll land on the enemy's head. Then when you pull back"—she yanked her hand toward her chest—"the blades swing inward and take the enemy's head with it."

Ye-kan stared at her, aghast. He blinked several times, then looked down at the sketch he was holding. He dropped it like a hot sweet potato.

"What's wrong with you?" he exclaimed. "That's so gory."

Ying took one look at his horrified expression and let out a bitter laugh. If he followed his older brothers out to the battlefield one day, perhaps he would not say the same thing. She hoped he never had to.

"I came to bring you this, by the way," the prince said, handing her a letter. "They delivered family letters today. Why do you even have one? I thought your family doesn't know you're here."

"They don't."

Only Nian knew she was in Fei, but she hadn't mentioned anything about the Engineers Guild. Ying stared down at the envelope, puzzled. She opened it and took out the sheet of paper inside.

She glanced at the sign-off and then quickly folded the paper shut, holding it out to the lit candle sitting in its bronze holder. The flame licked at the edge of the parchment, slowly consuming it until there was nothing left but a pile of soot on the tabletop.

"Why did you burn it?" Ye-kan asked.

"Nothing worth reading."

"Was it from Number Eight?" the prince continued probing, studying her face as if the answer would be written on it. "Did the two of you have a lovers' tiff?"

"Mind your words. The beile and I are not in that sort of a relationship," Ying replied curtly. She focused her attention back on the fiery forge, trying to push all thoughts of Ye-yang out of her mind.

Ye-kan arched a cynical brow. "Really?" he asked. "Then why do you look like you swallowed gunpowder?"

"Get out, Ye-kan, before I throw you out."

A smile tugged at the corners of Ye-kan's lips. He reached out and ruffled her hair—the way she always did to him. "I'll see myself out. Anyway, it's good if you've gained enlightenment and realized what a terrible choice Ye-yang would make. I'm glad my wise words weren't wasted after all." Beaming proudly, he turned and strode out of the workshop.

Ying stared at the small soot mound on the table, then blew it away until there was nothing left except a faint trail of gray, a reminder of what used to be.

The days continued to plod along, with time dragging its sorry heels whenever she had to sit through Gerel's dull History classes and speeding by when she was locked in the workshop perfecting her creations. The final assessment in the apprenticeship trial drew closer and closer, until there were only a few days left.

The remaining candidates were anxious about the upcoming test, but the uncertainty of the current situation unsettled them most. There was still no news of the High Commander's return from the Empire. News from the battlefront traveled back to Fei in drips and drabs, and no one really knew what was real and what was rumor.

It wasn't until three days before the appointed date of the final test that Master Gerel delivered an announcement to the class.

"Candidates, we have unfortunately been informed that the High Commander will not be able to return to the capital in time for the scheduled date of the final assessment. The guild masters have convened, and Grand Master Quorin has decided to postpone the test indefinitely until the High Commander's return."

Agitated murmurs started going around the room, burgeoning into loud, flustered exchanges after Gerel left.

"Why?" An-xi wailed repeatedly. "Why must they prolong my suffering?"

Chang-en walked over and patted him on the back. "At least it means more time for you to cram more into your brain."

"I don't need to cram any more! I already have the entire Annals memorized from back to front, and over a dozen other engineering manuals too. I can take the test today!"

"Does that mean we have to suffer through more lessons?" Chang-en asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"If you don't want to take lessons, then why are you even in the guild, wasting valuable space," An-xi snapped, glaring at the other boy with venom dripping from his eyes.

Ying wasn't bothered about the delay of the test. In fact, she was happy with the news. A delay meant more time to perfect her plans, to ensure a higher chance of success.

From what little Chang-en and An-xi managed to dig out from their families, it seemed that the siege of the Empire was not progressing as smoothly as everyone had hoped. Every now and then, they would see supply airships lifting off and disappearing into the distance. Several returned with gaping holes in their hulls, broken sails, and bloodstains on their decks, their crew carted off to the infirmaries to be treated for injuries. She had already scrubbed several congealed pools of blood off wooden floorboards. Even though she tried not to think about it, each time she would still end up wondering whether any of it was his.

A series of footsteps rushing into the classroom pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned toward the doorway. To her surprise, the entrants were all women, dressed uniformly in pale pink silk robes, their hair neatly bound in a braided bun above their heads, held in place by simple bronze pins. They stood in two lines by the doorway, hands folded one over the other at the right side of their waists.

A shadow appeared at the door, a pair of heeled qixie clipping against the floorboards as a woman stepped slowly across the threshold.

"Lady Odval?" Chang-en murmured.

Ying instinctively turned to her left, where Ye-kan had been sitting. He was gone, but there was a cowering figure hiding behind one of the shelves at the back of the room.

"My Lady," An-xi was the first to greet, bobbing his head in a polite half-bow. It wasn't necessary for them to greet ladies of the harem, but as the High Commander's principal wife, Odval was the exception. She was the highest-ranking female member of the Aogiya family, and by extension, the highest-ranking woman in the nine isles.

The other young men promptly followed suit, even though some of them were still clueless about her identity.

The lady swept the room with her cold, distant gaze, and Ying withered like a grass flower in the presence of a peony. Odval was an incredibly attractive woman, age failing to tarnish a single inch of her porcelain skin and jet-black hair. On her head, her intricate dianzi was adorned with the brilliant blue of kingfisher feathers and the sparkle of gold filigree, adding to her regal aura.

She parted her rosebud lips, dabbed with rouge only sparingly at the bottom. "Come out," she said, her ethereal voice floating across the room. She should have sounded like a fairy descended from the heavens, but Ying felt as if someone were trailing a knifepoint across her neck.

Lady Odval stood there in her lilac splendor, arms folded across her chest with her long, gold nail guards impatiently tapping against the floral embroidery of her sleeves.

"You know I don't like to repeat myself."

A hunched figure stepped out from behind the shelves, head hung in shame.

"E-niye."

All eyes turned toward the back of the room, plenty of shocked expressions at the squeak that had just emerged from Ye-kan's mouth.

The lady reached out a hand and beckoned toward her son, the curved points of her fingernails proving an especially intimidating sight. Ying couldn't help admiring her. It was no wonder she had been able to climb up the ranks of Aogiya Lianzhe's harem and be so comfortable at the top. This woman was single-handedly responsible for the power and influence held by the Ula clan in today's political climate.

"You should have told me you were here," Lady Odval said, her plump lips curling into a smile that screamed danger. "I was searching all over for you. I almost sent the palace guards on a full search of the city. That would have been such an unnecessary disturbance, don't you agree, sweetheart?"

"Let's go back to the palace," Ye-kan mumbled, walking over and tugging at his mother's sleeve. Gone was his usual arrogance and cockiness, replaced by a timid quaking of his boots. Ignoring the stares of disbelief coming from his classmates, he turned and gave Ying a wistful grimace, then quickly disappeared out through the doorway.

Still smiling, Lady Odval looked around the room, her gaze pausing upon Ying momentarily. Then, she took the outstretched hand of her lady-in-waiting and left as gracefully as she had entered.

Ye-kan didn't return that night, or for the next few nights. Ying didn't expect him to, not after seeing the displeasure exuding from every beautiful inch of his mother. Even though everyone in Fei regarded the Engineers Guild in high esteem, Lady Odval looked upon them as vermin. Servants to the one true master—whom she undoubtedly believed would be her son in time to come.

With the High Commander away at battle, tensions in the capital were running high. It was no wonder the lady wanted to keep a close watch over her son, in case any of their political enemies tried to do away with him at this critical juncture.

The other boys gossiped about Ye-kan's identity for a few days, then the topic became stale and chatter died down, replaced by an even juicier piece of news that rocked the entire capital.

A rumor had started spreading that the High Commander had been gravely injured in the siege of the Empire. Some people were even speculating that he was already dead.

But the uncertainty that was hanging thick within the air of the Engineers Guild—and across the city of Fei—was resolved much sooner than anyone expected. Three days after the whispers first began, the High Commander returned to the capital. There was no victory march, no ostentatious display through the streets—just a steam carriage guarded tightly by a solemn entourage, swiftly making its way from the airship docks toward Qianlei Palace. A directive was issued from the palace and the rumors were quashed immediately.

Ying and the others were out on the front courtyard playing weiqi for Strategy when they saw a messenger come riding in through the heaving gates of the guild, dashing up the stone steps with a golden scroll in hand. Their lesson was abruptly cut short and they were summoned up to the main hall, where Grand Master Quorin and the other guild masters were already waiting.

When they had all formed their lines, Quorin held out the scroll in front of him and unfurled it, a dour expression on his craggy face.

"An edict has arrived from the palace," he said. "The High Commander has decreed that the final test of the guild's apprenticeship trial is to proceed immediately."

An instant uproar ensued, loud voices clamoring to express their shock and alarm. Master Gerel let out a sharp screech, silencing all of them.

"The final test—the trial of the soul—will take place over the span of three days. During this time, you are to draw upon everything you have learned from the masters to create an entirely new prototype from scratch. The theme for this test, provided by the High Commander himself, is: To kill a dragon."

Quorin flipped the scroll around so that the bold characters were visible to all of them.

To kill a dragon.

Ying's gaze drifted from the brushstrokes to a small anomaly at the bottom-left corner of the parchment. Slight speckles of red. It could have been an accidental spillage of ink from the High Commander's official seal—or blood.

Beside her, Chang-en let out a low whistle. "Weapons, that's a guild first," he murmured.

"What do you mean?" Ying asked.

"The final test is always a challenge of creation, but it's never gone into the realm of actual weaponry before. Weapons are something that only guild masters or senior apprentices get to work on."

"You will have free access to the apprentice workshops over these three days, and you may requisition any materials you require from the guild stores. At dawn on the fourth day, you are to submit sketches of your design and we will test each of your prototypes at the grassland beyond the eastern canal." Quorin handed the scroll to a senior apprentice, who proceeded to hang it from a wooden frame at the front of the hall. "This is your last chance to prove that you have what it takes to become a guild member. I expect all of you to put forward your strongest showing." Sweeping his hands behind his back, Quorin stepped off the platform and left the hall, with the other masters trailing behind him.

The candidates started to scatter, all anxious to begin their individual projects. The final test would mark the end of the trial, and no more than three apprentices would be accepted into the guild. An-xi was the first to dash off, disappearing before anyone even had the chance to ask him what he thought about all this.

"What do you make of the theme?" Chang-en asked.

"The Great Jade Empire," Ying replied. "The dragon represents the Empire."

But not for her.

For her, the dragon would be the High Commander himself.