Chapter 9

Ying was inclined to think that her threat backfired. In a way, it worked—Ye-kan was notably less antagonistic toward her—but on the other hand, he was now sticking to her like a little leech, claiming that he didn't trust her to keep his secret.

There were times when she had to resort to hiding in the latrine to get him off her tail—like now.

She kept her ear up against the latrine door. It had gone quiet outside. She opened it a crack and peered out, heaving a sigh of relief when she didn't see Ye-kan there. She dashed out of the foul-smelling wooden cubicle and toward the west wing. Besides the latrine, this was the one place that Ye-kan wouldn't dare trail her to. Not if he wanted to keep his presence a secret from his older brothers.

She lifted her right arm and took a sniff, retching when she caught a whiff of latrine odor. Probably time for a bath anyway, she thought.

Ye-yang had kept his word about letting her borrow his private bathing quarters. Whenever she went over, she would find the door unlocked with a tub full of piping hot spring water waiting for her. There was never any sign of the fourth beile, though, and thankfully no sign of Nergui either. She would take a quick soak and let the warm water wash away the day's exhaustion, then give the tub a good scrub before sneaking back to the apprentice quarters.

Today was no different.

Ying used a generous handful of bath beans to rid herself of the stink, rubbing her skin so hard with the coarse towel that there were tender, reddened patches all over after she was done. Once she was done and dried, she redid the cloth bindings around her chest and slipped on some clean robes before heading back out with her bundle of dirty clothes. Just as she was shutting the door, a familiar voice called out to her.

"Done with the bath?"

Her eyes lit up. How many days had it been since she last saw him? Forty-five days exactly. She hadn't even realized she'd been keeping count.

Ye-yang had come through the passageway leading to the small courtyard adjoining his rooms. The black fur cloak she had seen him wearing the first time they met was hanging over his shoulders and there were a few strands of windswept hair framing the harsh angles of his face. He gave her a small smile, enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Something had changed since the last time they met, back on the rooftop. Like the distance between them had shrunk, a barrier fallen, bringing them closer together.

"Did you just return to the guild?" Ying asked. He must have been busy, given his absence for such a long period of time. She had occasionally spotted the other three beiles around the guild compound over the past weeks, but not Ye-yang.

The beile nodded. "There was some business to settle," he answered vaguely. He walked over to his room and pushed open the door, gesturing to Ying. "Come inside. The other beiles will return soon. Although there isn't any rule forbidding us from speaking, I'd prefer they not find out that you're here. They could make things more difficult for you in the trial than they already are."

Alarmed by the potential appearance of the other beiles, Ying quickly followed him. Although she was dressed in her guild uniform, her long hair hung damp over her shoulders, making her feminine features more pronounced. She typically hid on the roof—the same rooftop that Ye-yang had introduced her to—after baths until her hair was dried and braided back up.

She peered around curiously the moment she stepped in. Even though the room looked more sparse and plainly decorated than the rooms in the fourth beile's manor, these guest quarters were still far cozier than the apprentice dormitories. She glanced wistfully at the soft layers of silk blankets laid over the bed.

Must be more comfortable than my wooden platform, she thought.

Ye-yang caught her staring at the bed, and he coughed lightly. "I hope you're not thinking of borrowing my sleeping quarters too," he remarked in a teasing tone. He moved to sit by the window and beckoned for Ying to come over.

"No, of course not, Beile-ye," she replied frantically, her face reddening at the thought of what could possibly be running through Ye-yang's mind. Hopefully he only thought her a country bumpkin, drooling over the sight of silk blankets, instead of—

She shooed the mortifying image out of her head. Of Ye-yang lying on that bed, and the incredulous possibility of her sleeping beside him. That was crossing a very forbidden line. Her thoughts about Ye-yang seemed to be getting more brazen with each passing day—and it was dangerous, albeit enticing.

"How have your lessons been coming along?"

Ying sat down stiffly on the wooden chair across from the beile, resting her hands awkwardly on her knees. "Fine," she lied.

Just this morning she had received ten strokes of the cane at the back of her legs from Gerel for questioning the legitimacy of some of the statements about the invention of flame-resistant materials in the Annals. And then she'd been punished with the backbreaking task of cleaning the fiddly bamboo irrigation systems in the guild masters' gardens because she'd failed to correctly recall the steps to put together said irrigation system one time too many.

Facing punishments meted out by the guild masters for failing to meet expectations was a common occurrence for all the apprentice hopefuls, but Ying seemed to be suffering the worst of the lot. Perhaps it was because her maverick ways made her a poor fit for the rigid structures of the guild, like a square peg in a circular hole, or maybe being an Aihui meant that the bar had been set higher for her from the get-go. Either way, she was increasingly anxious—and discouraged—about her chances in these trials.

Ye-yang arched an eyebrow. "That's not what I heard," he said. "According to Nergui, you anger at least one master every day, and Gerel has even floated the idea of petitioning Quorin to have you removed."

Ying's face fell, her shoulders sagging despondently. "Since Nergui's already been reporting everything, then why bother asking?" she mumbled. To say she was unaffected by the discrimination toward her by the masters would be a lie, but she hadn't felt this ashamed until Ye-yang called her out. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

She didn't want him to see her like this. It was as if she had let him down, after he had handed her this golden opportunity.

Ye-yang's expression softened. "Perhaps it might have been easier if you weren't an Aihui," he mused.

"No," Ying said immediately. "I am my father's daughter. I will not hide who I am because I'm afraid of having a hard time." The moment the words left her lips, she realized how hypocritical she sounded. Here she was, masquerading as her younger brother, precisely because she knew that her true identity would set up barriers that she would never be able to cross. She withered a little more inside.

"You are indeed," Ye-yang murmured, "and that may be both a blessing and a curse. In any case, you are already here and the first test is tomorrow. Gerel can't expel you from the trial officially, because you entered on my nomination, but he can if you don't meet the test requirements. Are you ready for it?"

Ying bit down hard on her lower lip. She had barely gotten her footing in this place and accustomed herself to life in the guild, and already two months had flown by. Tomorrow was the day of the first test of the apprenticeship trial—the trial of the mind—and if she failed to meet the mark, she would be sent packing. All the other candidates had been burning the midnight oil to cram as much knowledge into their heads as possible in preparation for the essay they would need to write—but her own mind felt like a sieve despite all her best efforts. She could already see the gloating face of Master Gerel when her name failed to make the list.

She clenched her fists, letting her nails dig into the flesh so that the pain could help harden her resolve. Ye-yang reached over and gently patted the back of her right hand. Ying startled at his touch, but when she looked up and her gaze met his clear, gray eyes, the anxiety quickly faded away.

Ye-yang had a calming effect on her, she realized. Maybe it was because he always seemed so composed and self-assured. Like there was no storm he couldn't weather.

"Everyone expects you to live up to your father's name," Ye-yang said, "and maybe you expect that of yourself. Don't—it's not worth it." He pulled his hand away, shifting his fingers toward his jade ring. "You have to be your own person. Living in the shadows of someone else means you'll never realize your own potential."

But what was her potential? What did she want to be? Ying's brows knitted tightly together as she pondered upon the meaning of Ye-yang's words.

Loud footsteps approaching the room interrupted her train of thought.

"Ye-yang!" The door rattled as someone tried to open it from outside, to no avail. "Open up!"

Ying looked up at Ye-yang in dread. It was Erden, the second beile.

"Stay behind that." Ye-yang pointed toward a sandalwood partition screen carved with plum blossoms that was standing next to the bed.

Ying nodded, scurrying toward it. Squatting down, she held her breath when she heard the door creak open.

"Erden," she heard Ye-yang greet.

The second beile's plodding footsteps entered the room. "Why the locked door? Afraid that someone will barge in on your secrets?" Erden said, bursting out in a guffaw of laughter. He set something down on the table—probably a ceramic wine jar—that landed with a loud clang.

"Just a habit," Ye-yang replied. "What brings you here?"

"Can't I drink with my cousin without a reason? Might be a long while till we get to do this again. That was some impressive plan you presented to the High Commander earlier. Uncle's been eyeing Fu-li for ages, and you're handing it to him on a silver platter."

So that was the "business" that Ye-yang had alluded to earlier. Ying couldn't help but feel like she was listening to something she wasn't supposed to. There was danger in knowing too much, but there was nowhere for her to run even if she wanted to.

"Nothing impressive about it. We're all serving the nine isles, that's all. And we don't know what the outcome will be yet."

Wine bowls clinked loudly.

"True, you might not make it back alive! Or maybe the guild masters will need to build you some mechanical limbs." Erden chortled. He made it sound like a joke, but Ying could tell that it was anything but. "Where did you even get an idea like that from? You're not that sort of a risk-taker."

Ye-yang chuckled wryly. "I have my advisors, as you have yours."

Was he intentionally skirting the subject? Because he knew she was here?

"You should have them hanged! That was a tightrope you were walking, Ye-yang. The High Commander could have you shipped to the Juwan mines like Ye-lin if you tread wrong. Fool lost his chance of inheriting the High Command for nothing."

The memory of the flock of airships sailing across Huarin returned to Ying's mind, and the thunderous voice announcing the exile of Ye-lin, the High Commander's eldest son—once heralded as the heir to the Antaran seat of power, now just a forgotten prisoner. Ye-lin had been the first beile, but with his removal, the remaining three lords received promotions in rank. Ye-yang was newly appointed as the fourth. Judging from Erden's tone, he still viewed Ye-yang as an inferior, a child who could be bossed around and told what to do.

Ying silently seethed at the disrespectful manner in which Ye-yang was being treated.

"I only suggested what I thought would be best for the High Commander's larger plans," Ye-yang said. His response was muted, as she noticed it always was in the presence of the other beiles.

Erden was right about one thing—Ye-yang was walking on a tightrope, and it wasn't only around the High Commander. Maybe that was why he seemed to let his guard down when he was with her, because he didn't have to put on this act, the way she didn't have to pretend in front of him.

"This is why they say you're his new favorite."

There was tension in Erden's laugh. Ying didn't like the second beile a single bit. His jovial, affable nature was clearly a fa?ade. There were often daggers concealed behind his seemingly harmless words.

When he received no reply, Erden continued, "The banners will probably be deployed before the month is up. If you think you're not up to it, you should let everyone know early. Can't speak for the others, but I'd be more than happy to help. I have more battlefield experience, after all. Just say the word!"

"It's not for me to decide who gets to go, Erden," Ye-yang said. "I suggest you not try to predict the High Commander's intentions either. He will send whoever he thinks is best suited."

"Of course, but you could turn it down," Erden pressed. "This isn't child's play, Ye-yang. Fu-li is the gateway to the Empire. It's not the same as those little border skirmishes you're used to. You will be facing Qirin's elite."

Qirin?

This was a war Erden was speaking of, a war against the Empire. Ying reached for the jade pendant buried beneath her robes, wondering if it was this exact war that had implicated her father. She pressed her ear against the wooden partition, willing them to say more.

"It's not my decision to make."

Erden slammed his palm down onto the table. The sudden, resounding bang almost made Ying lose her balance. She held her arms out, palms pushing against the ground to stabilize herself. Despite her efforts, her head poked out briefly from behind the wooden screen. She caught a slight frown on Ye-yang when he spotted her. Thankfully, Erden didn't.

She quickly retreated behind the screen, exhaling softly in relief. It was bad enough if Erden discovered her here. It would be much worse—for both her and Ye-yang—if he realized she was a girl.

"Can't you see that I'm trying to help you? You are young and inexperienced, Ye-yang, so maybe you don't quite understand the situation. In order to be High Commander, you need strong backing from the noble clans—backing that you don't have. So don't let praise get to your head and make you think you stand a chance in this contest. You don't want to end up like Ye-lin."

"Thank you for your…concern, Erden," Ye-yang replied calmly.

Threat, more like it, Ying thought with disgust.

Ye-yang continued, "You came to drink, didn't you?"

The fourth beile expertly steered the conversation toward more mundane topics, like the training regimens of bannermen and the new songstress at the capital's most renowned pleasure house, dragging on for much longer than Ying had hoped. She had gone from squatting to sitting on the floor, and still her legs were beginning to cramp up. What time was it? She usually made it back to the dormitory before lights out after her baths, using the excuse of working late in the workshops. But no one would notice her missing today, because they would be too busy stressing about tomorrow morning's test.

By the time Erden's footsteps finally headed for the door, she was almost asleep, with her face pressed against the frame.

As the door shut, Ye-yang's face appeared on her side of the screen, peering down at her. His cheeks were flushed and the whites of his eyes were streaked with red, the inebriation far more obvious under lamplight than it had been when they were up on the roof.

The boy did not hold his liquor well.

Ying waited for him to say something, but it never came. Instead, Ye-yang stumbled past her and headed for his bed, almost tripping over her feet.

"Are you okay?" Ying asked, clambering back up.

Ye-yang sat down on the bed, staring blankly ahead for a moment. Then he waved his hand in the direction of the door. "I'm fine," he murmured. "You can go."

Ying immediately pushed the partition aside and made a beeline for the door, but then she hesitated. She turned and took one more look at the young man, who was still seated upright, his eyes glazed and weary. In her mind, Ye-yang had always been a formidable presence, aloof and imperturbable. He had to be, in order to be the overall commander of an entire banner and withstand the pressure from the likes of Erden.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was barely older than she was.

She turned and walked over to the table, pouring out a bowl of water. Then, she brought it over and held it out in front of him. "Drink some," she said. "Helps get rid of the alcohol."

Ye-yang's eyes flickered upward and rested upon her face. He took the bowl out of her hands. "Thank you," he said, gurgling everything down in one gulp.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I kind of couldn't help it. Are you heading somewhere? Are we going to war?" If the Qirins did have something to do with her father's death, she needed to understand why, what was at stake.

"We've been at war for a long time, Ying," Ye-yang replied quietly. He handed the bowl back to her. "The nine isles, the High Command, the Cobra's Order—everything we know was built from years of war. This time, we'll finally be fighting someone else, instead of among ourselves." He shook his head, wearing a bitter smile on his face. "Huarin must be a nice place. Far away from all the conflict and bloodshed."

An-xi was right when he called her a frog in the well, Ying thought. Huarin was a safe haven, a small patch of land where the biggest dispute ever witnessed was between Roya and Khatan, the village butcher, over the increase in the price of beef. Under her father and mother's protection, she had grown up with the luxury of not having to care about anything but herself and the things that made her happy.

Ye-yang was different. Being a prince and a beile meant that he had to bear burdens that she would never be able to comprehend. She suddenly felt the urge to pat him on the head and smooth away his worries, the way she did for Nian.

"There's no need to feel sorry for me," Ye-yang said. "I lied to Erden when I said it wasn't my decision to make. I chose this path. This has nothing to do with what my father wants, or what anybody else wants. This is what I want."

Ying was surprised by his openness. It was effectively an admission of his personal ambition, something that he had been cautiously trying to hide from Erden—yet was trusting her with.

"But you could lose your life out there," Ying burst out. It was one matter to be ordered to fight a war, and another to volunteer for it. "What are you trying to prove? That you're better than the second beile or your other brothers? That you belong in this position?"

A flash of anger appeared in Ye-yang's eyes. He got up and took her by the shoulders, pinning her down to the bed in one swift motion.

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" he said. "You're just like them. You don't think I can do it. All of you think I'm just here to make up the numbers. I wouldn't even be a beile if Ye-lin had toed the line the way he should have. Is that what you think?"

"I never said that," Ying cried, alarmed by his sudden aggression. "Let go of me!" Fear shot through her spine as she struggled against his viselike grip.

Right now, with his fingers digging painfully into her flesh, she was acutely reminded of her rightful place in the hierarchy, and that she might have misinterpreted the relationship they had. She had grown too comfortable in his presence, forgetting that it was still a beile she was speaking to. Or maybe she believed that she was different to him. That they were different.

Tears stung her eyes, then trickled down the sides of her cheeks.

The intensity in Ye-yang's stare suddenly extinguished. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, raising one hand to her left cheek. With the soft pad of his thumb, he gently wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He was leaning closer, so close that she could see each slip of an eyelash framing his clear gray eyes. His lips were almost brushing her own, the touch barely there, featherlight.

She turned her head aside.

"Ye-yang, you can't…I mean, we can't…" Her tongue was tied up in knots and her thoughts were equally tangled. Her heart was beating so loudly that she swore he would be able to hear it in the silence of this room.

What was he doing? Why was he being this confusing? One moment he looked like he could shred her to pieces, the next he was holding her so tenderly, as if he was afraid that she would run away. Which one was the real him?

The world seemed to go still. Then, Ye-yang abruptly flipped himself over, slipping one arm behind her neck and pulling her closer so her head rested upon his shoulder. Ying remained stiff as a washboard, unable to reconcile the intimacy of their current state.

"Finally," he said, with the hint of a laugh.

"Finally what?"

"You're finally using my name."

Had she? She hadn't even realized, because she had been too astonished by the turn of events. This wouldn't do. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then tried to wriggle out of this entirely inappropriate position.

"Don't move." Ye-yang clamped his fingers around her shoulder, holding her firm.

She turned to protest, but when she looked up and saw his face, his dense eyebrows and eyelashes in such close proximity, the words remained trapped down her throat. His eyelids were partially lifted, stormy irises gazing down at her.

"Do you really think I should give in to Erden? Or to any one of my brothers?" he said softly. There was a sincerity in his voice that dissolved her indignance, that made her feel like her opinion mattered.

Was that why he had been angry? Because he cared about what she thought about him?

She let herself relax, sinking against the warmth of his embrace. After a moment's pause, she said, "No. I think you'd do a far better job than any of them, whatever it is you're supposed to do."

That was her honest answer, even though she didn't want him to go. Whatever they were planning at Fu-li sounded like a suicide mission. She glanced at the fingers wrapped around her shoulder, felt the curve of his arm fitting snug against her back. Even if she still wasn't certain what this was—what they were—and even as the rational side of her knew that the gulf between them was too wide for anything to ever come out of this, she didn't want to see him in harm's way.

The right corner of his lips tipped upward in a self-deprecating smile. "Thank you," he said, "for being willing to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Mmm."

Ying pried herself free and sat up. "I mean it, I'm not—" The rest of her objection faded into a sigh.

Ye-yang had already fallen asleep, but there was a furrow across his forehead, as if his mind was plagued by unpleasant dreams.

Instead of leaving, as she knew she should, Ying couldn't help but sit quietly for a while longer. Her mind recollected all the things she had seen and heard since coming to Fei. There was so much complexity here that she had never imagined when living in her little bubble on Huarin. There were undercurrents that threatened to pull you under if you weren't careful, and for once she thought she had a glimpse of the reasons behind her father's decision to leave.

But not everyone had the luxury of choice. Ye-yang didn't.

This was where he was born. This was his family and kinsmen. This was the place he supposedly had to call home.

She reached out her hand and gently stroked his hair. Ye-yang's breathing slowed into a deeper, more steady rhythm, the tightness in his muscles relaxing.

But even when it seemed the nightmares had left him, a frown was still etched upon his forehead, adding an air of gravity to his otherwise youthful features. Ying gently touched the space between his brows, letting the warmth of his skin linger against her fingertips. The creases disappeared and the tension dissipated.

"Much better," she said.

Then, without a thought, she bent over and touched her lips lightly to his forehead. A stolen kiss. Yet another transgression she probably should not have committed. The realization of what she had done sent a rush of blood to her head, and she quickly stepped away from the bed and hurried toward the door.

At the soft click of the doors shutting behind her, a pair of pensive gray eyes fluttered open.