Chapter 25

With everyone gone, an uneasy silence set in, an eerie harbinger of what was to come. Aogiya Lianzhe was watching her, much like the first time around, like a cobra circling its prey. Ying willed her pounding heart to stay calm.

"Ying, you seem like a sensible child, far more sensible than my own sister. Hand over your father's journal. Someone like you has no use for it. Give it to me and I'll unleash its full potential, the way your father would have wanted. I'll use it to bring glory to the Antaran isles, to give our people a better life! You don't want to see the nine isles obliterated by the Empire, am I right?"

The feral shine in the High Commander's eyes brought fear and disgust into Ying's heart. Even now, he believed that he had done no wrong. He showed no remorse for her father's death, nor any signs of reining in his wild, blood-soaked ambitions.

This man dared call himself her father's best friend.

Ying's hand slipped between the cross-folds of her gray robes, reaching for the bundle she had hidden there. She hesitated.

"Why did you make something like this, my little lamb?" her father's voice echoed in her mind. She could hear his disappointment still.

She had been ten, catching grasshoppers with Wen and Nian out on the grassy patch near their family ger. Wen was much more adept than she was at the sport and being a show-off, so she had done something to turn the tables. She built a little grasshopper trap out of wood scraps and springs she borrowed from her father's workshop—a box that she hid in the tall grass, with a mechanism that would crush the legs of any hapless grasshopper who ventured into her trap. She had caught ten grasshoppers with it and she had been so proud, but when she brought her spoils to her father, he had looked at her with reproach.

"Look at the grasshoppers, Ying. They will not survive long with their legs broken. Even if you release them, they are defenseless. The birds and the mice will have them for supper," he had said. "Never use your gifts to harm others, my lamb. That is not what an engineer should ever do."

But, A-ma, you left Fei and the guild to avoid conflict and to stay true to your beliefs, yet they refused to let you go. Now they want to use your life's work to do the very thing you said we should never do.

She had to make a choice. Either surrender her father's work and allow the High Commander to use it to rain havoc upon the Qirins, or carry out her plan and deny Aogiya Lianzhe—but in doing so, stain her own two hands with blood.

"That's right. Give it to me, Ying." The High Commander reached out his hand when he spotted the package she had pulled out. "For your contributions, I can overlook your little masquerade and grant you a place in the Engineers Guild."

She opened her eyes, resoluteness etched in those dark-brown irises. She did not need his charity. She did not need his hypocrisy. He had to pay for his crimes.

"No."

"No?"

The last signs of civility vanished from the High Commander's face as it twisted in rage. He snapped his fingers. "Take it from her," he ordered.

Ying's right arm was twisted in a viselike grip, preventing her from wrenching out her flying guillotine. The scar-faced man had appeared behind her. She could not let him disarm her, else all her efforts would be futile.

Her fan slid out into her free hand. Running on instinct, Ying flicked her wrist, and the metallic leaf unfolded. She swung at the guard, the sharp edge of her fan slicing through the man's dark sleeve and the skin beneath.

He let go, and she made a dash for the doors.

"Get hold of her!" the High Commander barked, spluttering from the exertion.

Ying turned and fired a few darts from her fan, one of them striking the guard in the shoulder. She tried to push the doors open, but they had been locked from the outside.

Gritting his teeth, the man yanked the dart out and threw it onto the floor. He raced forward and grabbed Ying by the shoulder, flinging her sideways. She crashed against one of the rosewood cabinets lining the wall, splintering the wood. The clothbound weapon that she had been holding went sliding across the floor.

The man walked slowly toward her, dragging the tip of his sword against the wooden floor. There was nothing but emptiness in his sunken eyes that filled Ying with dread. He was perhaps more of a machine than his nine-tailed chimera. She could taste blood in her mouth, bitter as gall. Was this how her father felt in his dying moments?

No.

This could not be her ending.

Spying a small bronze burner sitting on the floor by the cabinet, she lunged for it and shoved her hand inside, grabbing a handful of hot ash from burnt incense. The guard swung his sword. She hurled the gray powder toward his face and quickly rolled aside, narrowly escaping the descending blade. Using the cover from the ash cloud, Ying ran to pick up her fallen weapon.

She ripped the cloth away, revealing the menacing metallic contraption hiding underneath. In one hand she gripped a lead ring, and with the other she held a large bronze disc, a thin slice with a smaller circular hole carved in the middle, the right size to fit over a person's head. Interlocking silver links formed a long chain that joined the ring to the disc.

"What is that?" the High Commander demanded, noticing the silver glint. He straightened himself up on the daybed, squinting to get a better look. "Is it something else from Shan-jin's journals?" Even now, there was no disguising the greed in his voice.

"No, my father would never create something as bloodthirsty as this. I made this. I call it the flying guillotine," Ying replied, her voice emotionless, cold like the ice forming on the canals in the depths of winter.

I'm sorry, A-ma. I know you would not have wanted me to do this, but I must.

A man as unscrupulous as Aogiya Lianzhe did not deserve to rule over the Antaran isles.

She flung the bronze disc toward the High Commander with as much force as she could muster.

The High Commander reeled backward in shock, his eyes glued upon the rotating disc that was hurtling toward him. Ying had intended for the weapon to land over his head, but its trajectory was headed for his chest instead.

No matter, she had accounted for her own lack of skill in this respect.

She pulled on the ring in her hand, and two sets of curved blades flew out from their hiding place, sandwiched within the plane of the disc. One set jutted inward, and would have taken off the head of its unsuspecting victim, while the other jutted outward—a contingency she had worked in for a situation like this.

Like the petals of a peony in bloom.

The outer set of blades carved into Aogiya Lianzhe's chest. The High Commander cried out in anguish. Ying pulled at the ring again, and the disc clanged onto the ground, the dull golden sheen of its blades stained red.

Blood was spreading across the High Commander's chest, and the man was desperately clutching the table by his side, barely breathing.

I did it.

Time slowed. Cold sweat lined her palms.

She could hear death knocking at her own door.

Any moment now, the scarred man would recover from the ash stinging his eyes and put a sword through her back like he had intended.

But it didn't happen. Instead, the loud clanging of blades striking against each other rang in her ears, and she turned to witness a fierce battle between the High Commander's guard and…Ye-yang.

He's here.

Seeing Ye-yang brought on a wave of relief, her anger and disappointment at his betrayal temporarily forgotten. Maybe she was afraid of dying after all, and his appearance gave her hope that she might not need to bid farewell to this life yet. His hair was windswept, flecks of snow and dust clung on to the dark fabric of his riding clothes. Exhaustion lined his brow, but still he deftly fended off blow after blow.

"Number Eight, what are you doing?" the High Commander wheezed, blood trickling from the corners of his lips.

With a shout of fury, Ye-yang leapt into the air and twisted his body in a sideways roll, bringing the tip of his sword piercing toward the other man's back. The guard dropped to his knees, hands clutching at the blade that had emerged through the front of his chest. His body swayed, then collapsed, the last breath leaving his lips.

Ye-yang rushed over to Ying's side, wrapping an arm protectively around her. When she met his gaze, she saw nothing but concern there.

"I'm here. You're safe now," he said.

Then someone else entered the room.

"Your Excellency, is Number Fourteen here? He promised me he would return as soon as the guild's final trial was over, but there's still no sign of—" Lady Odval's saccharine voice trailed off, replaced with a high-pitched scream when she stepped into the inner chamber and saw the scene of disarray.

She rushed to the High Commander's side, gasping at the sight of the blood everywhere. But, as befitting her status and position in the household, she did not panic.

"Guards! Send for the physicians immediately!" she screamed, calling for the men who should have been stationed outside. Then she pointed one gold nail guard at Ying and Ye-yang. "And behead these two traitors at once!"

Seconds passed, but no guards came rushing in through the open doors.

"Guards!" Odval shouted once again, this time with a slight tremble in her voice.

Still, no one came.

Ye-yang guided Ying over to an empty chair and sat her down. Then, he turned back toward his father and the lady, his gaze switching immediately into cold steel. He walked over to the corpse of his father's guard and pulled his sword back out from the man's body.

"A-ma, Lady Odval, no one is coming. The palace guards don't answer to you anymore," he said quietly as he walked toward them.

"Number Eight, what is the meaning of this?" Odval's large eyes were livid with rage. "You're the one behind this? This is treason!"

"No, perhaps you are the one who's confused," Ye-yang replied, his voice clipped and detached. "A-ma was gravely wounded at Ningya—hundreds of our men bore witness to that. I see no difference in his current state. As for you, Lady Odval, given your oft-professed love for my father, I am sure you will be most willing to die alongside him, to keep him company on his journey to the next life."

A tremble went down Ying's spine when she heard Ye-yang's words. There was no hesitation, no apprehension—as if he had been working toward this moment all along.

"Excuse me?" Odval spluttered in disbelief. She had her back pressed against the daybed, her entire body shaking in fear. But there was no one to rescue her.

Ye-yang lifted his blade, slicing its tip swiftly across the woman's neck. A thin red line appeared across her porcelain skin, from which rivulets of blood began trickling downward. Her large, feline-like eyes remained open, indignant till the very end.

Ying bit her lip and looked away, unwilling to watch any further. The High Commander and his scarred subordinate owed her a debt of blood, but she had no grudge against Lady Odval. That was Ye-kan's mother. Yet she had stood by and let Ye-yang end Odval's life for his own agenda, an agenda that she seemed to have unwittingly become an accomplice to.

What have I done?

Had she helped to trigger a new blood feud? Was there no end to this cycle of bloodshed and vengeance?

"How long have you been planning for this, Number Eight?" Aogiya Lianzhe finally spoke, barely managing a whisper. He was valiantly clinging on to his final vestiges of life, but death already clouded his stormy eyes.

"Since the day my e-niye died of a broken heart because of your cruel ambitions. I will not be like you, A-ma. But go in peace, and rest assured that the nine isles are in good hands."

Ye-yang took one last look at his father, then he turned and picked Ying up in his arms, marching out of the High Commander's quarters without looking back. Behind them, Aogiya Lianzhe's bitter laughter rang out, and he uttered the last words that Ying would ever hear from him in this life.

"Out of all my sons, you are most like me, Ye-yang. Blood runs thicker than water. You will understand that one day."

Ye-yang took her back to his manor on horseback. They rode in silence the entire way.

His arms encircled her waist, and the warmth of his chest was pressing against her back, his shallow breaths tickling the side of her ear, yet Ying felt nothing but the cold of the darkest winter. She had rehearsed this several times before, what it would be like after she succeeded in seeking revenge, how she would react when she finally brought justice upon those who had taken her father from her.

Now that it had actually happened, she felt numb.

When they reached the fourth beile's manor, Ye-yang carried her all the way to his loft, ignoring the curious stares from the attendants along the way. He only set her down once they were behind closed doors.

Ye-yang reached out to pull her into his embrace, but Ying took a step back instead.

"Funny how we weren't even stopped by anyone on the way out of the palace, huh?" she said, directing her gaze toward the floor. The journey here had given her enough time to think things through.

So that was what Ye-yang had meant when he told his father and Lady Odval that the palace guards didn't answer to them anymore. Somehow, somewhen, Ye-yang had secretly and stealthily taken control of the entire palace—and possibly the entire capital.

He had everything within his calculations all along. Heknew what I was going to do, yet he let me do it anyway.

Ying had told herself that she would remain indifferent, that she wouldn't show him how much the truth hurt, but when he cradled her cheeks in his palms and forced her to look into his face, the tears came trickling down. She burst into fitful sobs, laughing and crying at the same time, unable to reconcile the emotional impact of what she had done and what she had learned.

The High Commander was dead, and his blood was on her hands.

She was the one who killed him.

And Ye-yang, who had asked her to trust him, who had sworn to protect her, had used her like a weapon to cut down the obstacles standing in his way of absolute power. He could not bring himself to kill his own father—or he didn't want that blemish on his legacy—so he had her do it for him.

If he had mistimed his arrival by a single moment, she might have already paid for her actions with her life.

"It's over. Everything will be fine, Ying, I promise," Ye-yang said, wiping the tears gently from her cheeks. "Things will be better from now on. You can go back to the guild, fulfill your engineering dreams, do everything that your father would have wanted you to do. We've won."

She shook her head, a bitter smile hanging upon her lips. "No," she whispered. Did he honestly think that everything he had done could be wiped away just like that? There was no "we." Things would not be better. Perhaps they would never be. "I'm not staying. I'm going back home."

"But why?" Ye-yang blinked back his confusion. "If you're worried about what happened, there's no need for that. No one will ever find out what happened in the palace, I'll make sure of it."

"That's not it. I'm leaving, Ye-yang."

She finally understood why her father had chosen to leave, why he didn't like speaking about his time in Fei, and why his eyes were always filled with sorrow when he reminisced on those days. Fei was a place of broken dreams and false promises—for him, and now for her too. Here, it was too difficult to hold on to what mattered, to stay true to your beliefs and values.

This was why her father had told her to burn the book. Because he must have seen this coming. He was trying to save her from having her heart broken the way his had been.

A-ma, I was wrong.

"Ying, don't go," Ye-yang pleaded, catching hold of her hand as she turned to leave. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face against the crook of her neck. "Stay with me. I need you by my side. Please. I have no one else."

The raw emotion in his voice struck through to the inner reaches of Ying's heart, and in that moment he was once again the lonely, vulnerable young man that she had fallen for, trapped as a victim of his circumstances. She faltered, wanting to indulge in this for longer.

Then the High Commander's final words rang out in her mind.

"Out of all my sons, you are most like me, Ye-yang."

Maybe he was right.

To Ye-yang, there was never any need to choose between his ambitions and her. He believed that both could coexist in harmony. She didn't doubt that he cared about her, that she mattered to him the way he said she did, but at the same time, he had no qualms about using her as a stepping stone to achieve his ambitions. It was scarily similar to how Aogiya Lianzhe had treated his friendship with her father, and it chilled her to the bone.

When push came to shove, she didn't trust that he would choose her over everything else.

The fog in her mind cleared.

Ying slowly pushed him away. "I've already helped you once. Don't you think it's too much to ask me for more? Who might you want me to kill on your behalf next time?" she asked. "You said that if I wanted to seek revenge, that you would wield the sword on my behalf. But that was a lie. I was your sword, but you were never mine."

She knew that her words were cruel and cutting, but it was the truth. He had lied to her too many times, and her heart was too broken. Blinking back her tears, Ying walked out of the room—and he didn't come after her.