14. BEYOND THE GRAVE

Leave it to me.

An hour passes. Two. At three, Ren enters the city as I knew she would when Sikou Hai did not return to her. Gongs herald her arrival as she sweeps into the magistrate's hall, where we wait.

From my current position, I can't see my one true lordess.

I lie in darkness, able only to see Crow as he hovers by my head, shaking his.

"It's not nice to tease, Zephyr. Besides, Deck the Bare Tree with Silk Leaves means to disguise the dead as living, not this reversal of yours."

Is it really a reversal if you're already half corpse?Maybe more than half, given the ice-cold skin and barely there pulse. I'd utilize both even if it didn't pique Crow, but I'm beside myself that it does. If only I could rub it in—but I keep my silence. I may be in a coffin, but I'm not in the dark about what's to happen. Everyone is where I want them to be. Play my pieces right, and I'll turn Ren's loss at Taohui into a win.

Fate stops here with my artifice.

I hear Cicada greet Ren. Her voice is fuzzy compared to the honed blade of my lordess's.

"Where is Sikou Hai?"

"Here, unharmed," Cicada says.

Footsteps, followed by Ren's quiet words: "Let me see you." To Cicada, louder: "You've really made a habit of targeting my strategists." Scuff of a bootheel, as it turns. "We take our leave."

Voices—first, Cicada's: "Slow your step. I have a proposition."

Sikou Hai's: "Listen to her."

A breath, drawn in. Ren's. "Your strategist already has my answer."

"I know," says Cicada. "Our terms were insufficient."

"Whatever you offer—"

"What is this campaign, but one of revenge?" Cicada interjects. "You fight to avenge your swornsister. I know the desire; I'll fulfill yours right now." The coffin lid is slid back; light hits my made-up face, tinting my closed eyelids red. "Here is the person responsible: A spy of ours, planted in the North."

"Ah yes," Crow murmurs to me. "Scapegoat the corpse."

"He orchestrated the execution of your swornsister without my approval," says Cicada. "But it doesn't matter, because now he is dead, poisoned by Miasma herself."

"Merciful," says Crow, "compared to your royal treatment."

"Our quarrel"—Cicada again—"should rest with—"

I'm suddenly jerked up and out of the coffin.

Don't tense. Don't breathe.Easier said than done when I've been seized by the throat. Don't. Cough. Around me, words fly like darts.

"Release him, Cloud," orders Ren.

"He killed Zephyr and Lotus!"

"He's dead!" snaps Sikou Hai, my ever-faithful disciple.

Not dead enough, apparently, for Cloud. My body swings as she moves, presumably out of Sikou Hai's reach. "Touch me again, and I'll break your arm."

"Gao Yun."

"Cloud!"

Hands fight over me like wolves over a kill.

Stay. Limp.

Just when I think my act will crack, I'm flung back into the coffin. I dare not open my eyes, but I can envision the scene. Cloud, enraged. Ren rooted in place. Tourmaline is here too. That was her "Cloud!"—perhaps the only voice that reached Cloud's heart. I know it reached mine. It's the first time in months that we've all been gathered in one room. The first time, since I died as Lotus, that I'm with them.

A throat clears. Cicada's. I can envision her too, in her ceremonial robes, not mourning. Too insincere, I'd told her. Only two soldiers flank her—any more reeks of an ambush. Ku is waiting in the wings—let's not remind Ren of the last bid for truce—and to Cicada's right stands a masked advisor. I'd picked him out myself, told him not to speak, then passed him the full-faced clay mask.

Why?Cicada had asked.

Just trust me.

And so far, Cicada has. She's been doing everything as instructed. It'll be an uphill battle, I told her while Crow stared at me. If looks could kill, I'd really be a corpse. We can't bring the swornsister back, but we can provide closure.

A life for a life. A head for a head. Last time, I was caught off guard by Ren's emotions.

This time I would speak to her through them.

"The culprit is dead," Cicada says, picking up where we'd left off. "What's more, we're willing to cede the Marshlands to you." Her voice is smooth, so unlike how she'd sounded when I'd encouraged her to make this trade. We'll get it back, I'd assured her, placing my faith in Ren.

"To renew our alliance," Ren now says to Cicada.

"Yes."

"You want that."

"Yes, we—"

"Were you thinking of our alliance, when you collaborated with Miasma?" The hall goes quiet. "Will you pin that on this dead spy too?"

"Thank you," says Crow, sounding vindicated.

For a long moment, he has the last word.

"Do you know why I sided with Miasma?" My heart skids when Cicada starts improvising. "When my sister died at the hands of the Fen, Miasma seized upon our weakness. She stole the Marshlands and made a gift of them to that uncle of yours, Xin Gong.

"All my life, I'd been told that you were different. But you refused to return the Marshlands, just like Miasma. So why not side with her?

"Then she killed my strategist." Cicada's voice thickens with emotion, naked, and I feel naked too, remembering how it felt to hold Crow's limp wrist in the steamer. "She reminded me of who the real enemy is.

"Haven't you heard the reports coming out of the imperial city?" When Cicada speaks next, she sounds farther from the coffin. "Unrest is mounting. Rebels rose up against Miasma, and she killed them, down to the ninth relative. She killed dozens of officials too, and a renowned physician." Voice, a little more distant. "Shouldn't you be saving Xin Bao from that blood-soaked palace?" And more distant. "Shouldn't the welfare of the people trump your vendetta?"

Swords unsheathe—from Ren's side. My breath lodges in my throat. Cicada must have stepped in too close.

At last, after what feels like an eon, swords return to sheaths and Cicada says, "If you won't listen to me, listen to your strategist. She always spoke on the importance of our alliance."

A servant will now be delivering a brocade pouch to Cicada, who will personally offer it to Ren.

If only I could watch as Ren lifts out the silk scroll.

If only I could see her expression as it unfurls.

"You have some explaining to do," I'd muttered to Sikou Hai after entering Taohui. I'd already told him what was set to happen, then handed him a sheet of paper—"for coding our future correspondences." With the magistrate hall coming up, it was now or never.

Ask him."Since when did you start carrying a knife?"

"Ren insisted."

I should have guessed. She'd also added a switchblade to my fan.

Ask him!

"And what about that cloak?" I'd muttered, tacking on the question like an afterthought. "Why are you wearing it?"

Why do you care?I feared Sikou Hai would ask as Crow's gaze smoldered over me.

But Sikou Hai simply answered like a disciple would his master. "I found Cloud in your shrine, burning it. She said it was the enemy's when I tried to stop her."

"She's right. It is the enemy's."

"So? You'd kept it, surely for a good reason."

It pained me not to correct him.

"I rescued it," Sikou Hai had said with pride. "I rescued these too." He'd removed sheaves of paper from the cross-folds of his robes, and I'd stared at them.

"You've been carrying these with you on the march?"

"They're safest with me. I will preserve them with my life."

At first, I didn't know what to say. "Fool!" I'd snapped, but my voice wavered. "What if you'd gotten blood on them?" Then I'd snatched the papers—"Careful!" cried Sikou Hai—and gazed down at my own calligraphy. I'd had my doubts about the corpse-in-a-coffin tactic—too tawdry, too volatile—but those doubts receded as I traced the words.

Why not harness Ren's response to another vestige of myself ?

"Since we have them," I finally said to Sikou Hai, "we might as well use them."

Now, in the hall, I imagine Ren holding the scroll. On it are the words I wrote, after months of practicing as Lotus, months during which I was preoccupied with the Southern alliance. I had to repair it. I had to. Over and over, I'd written out the goal. There's a saying that ink is like a scholar's blood.

I'd bled my wishes out onto paper:

Ally with the South again.

Ally with the South again.

Ally with the South again.

Ally with the South again.

Ally with the South again.

The words consume the entire sheet. And the sheet—it starts trembling. A sound so small, but it fills my lightless world. In my mind, I'm beside Ren, watching her as she reads. See? I tell her. I'm here. I never left.

Let me serve you a little longer.

"You killed her." The moment ends, shredded by Cloud. "You killed her at Pumice Pass," she snarls, "and you dare to present this?"

Paper tears.

"Cloud!"

Ren's voice is pained, but pain is good—this will work—

"She's wrong, you know." I almost jump, which would be Crow's goal. Show Ren that the corpse lives, and this alliance will crumble.

"Chanmei didn't kill you," Crow continues. "I did."

Semantics. I already know they both planned the ambush—

"In the beginning, I asked her to spare you. ‘Have her join us,' I said. But you refused, so what could I do but end you?" It takes everything in me to keep my eyes closed as his voice drifts near. "Remember? How you took my face in your hands? You thought you had me in your ruse. But all the while, I had you in mine. I knew you'd found the antidote in my pocket. I replaced it with poison. It'd have killed you, had you not been caught in the ambush we set for Ren's warriors."

He's lying, like he lied about Cicada's diminutive.

But I recall my nausea at the Battle of the Scarp, how sluggish my mind and body felt.

"Only at your shrine did I come to terms with what had really happened: The arrow killed you before my poison could. I held it by the shaft, and waited. Guilt had plagued me; I waited for the truth to absolve it. But the guilt stayed. I killed you. The moment I chose between you and my kingdom, I killed you.

"And even as I am, I will choose again. I will kill you again. I will take back this body and you can haunt me for a turn." He has no physicality to him, but I swear I can feel his breath on my cheek as he murmurs, "Well, how was that for a try? Did I rattle you?"

No, I think, even as my heart pounds faster than it has in days. If anyone could challenge me from beyond the grave, it would be Crow, but not for the reason he thinks. Instead of remembering the night Crow described—the night I kissed him, then stole the poison—I remember her. Shuaimei. The true object of Crow's affections. For me, he has nothing but hate. And I—I hated him too, right after realizing he was Cicada's spy. But now I feel only empty. That he meant to kill me is ground we've covered. I mind the lies more. Stop, Crow.

I know you never really grieved me, so stop acting.

"You're right," says Cicada, and I return my mind to the hall. My goal is in reach. No one can shake me, not Cloud, not Crow.

"You're right," Cicada repeats to Cloud. "We did kill Zephyr. We saw her as a threat, one that would be later used against us. But should the heavens see our alliance as genuine, then your strength can only be mine and mine yours. Such a transgression will never repeat itself."

"Oxshit. You grovel because you're losing—"

"That's enough, Cloud."

Silence falls for Ren.

What will she say next? Will she be the lordess I followed out of Thistlegate, drawn to her values, or will she be the person I need, but also fear her becoming? My heart and mind are at war when Ren says, "The Westlands accept your terms. Our fight ends in the Marshlands."

And it's what I wanted, but my heart twists at the tiredness in her voice. "I'll ride to the front lines myself to send the word."

"You must come south first and formalize the alliance," Cicada says.

Wait. No.Miasma will soon be receiving my drawings of Ren's camps. We need to unite our troops—

"The soldiers' lives take precedence," Ren asserts. "Formalization can wait—"

"We'll write to the front lines." Ku's voice, emerging from the wings. "Have them lay down their arms."

Insufficient for Ren. I know that even before she says, "Sikou Hai, you send the word."

"Queen Xin . . ." Sikou Hai pauses. You can't actually go south, I will him to tell her. He must convince her—

"Sikou Hai will pass on the word personally to Aster, Bracken, and our generals," Ren announces before he can.

"Then my strategist November will join him and communicate the same to our generals," Cicada says, and before I can even think about climbing out of my coffin to stop this madness, Cloud is speaking.

"Go south, then." Her voice moves closer. "Go alone." Even closer.

Swords unsheathe—and clang, blades intercepted.

"I could kill you now," Cloud says, and I just know her glaive is pointed at Cicada. "You'd be easier to cut than wheat."

"Gao Yun!"

"But it's on account of the sister I thought I knew—"

"Cloud, no—"

A gasp. Something patters. A metallic smell curls up my sinuses. My eyelids loosen; through my lashes, I see a hazy Tourmaline, one hand on Cloud's arm. But she couldn't stop her; Blue Serpent's blade is red with blood.

More blood pours from Cloud's other palm.

"—I'm giving back the oath we swore. I can't share this heaven and earth with someone who killed our swornsister. I can't share it with someone who sides with them either."

With a snap of her cloak, Cloud strides from the hall.

No.

"Lordess—Queen—" Tourmaline starts.

"Let her go."

No, Tourmaline. Go after her.But she listens to Ren's order, and I let my eyes fall back shut, fighting the urge to screw them. Cloud lives; Ren lives; I ended the battle that would have killed them.

But did I also end their sisterhood?

In the dark, Crow's voice returns.

"Everyone says Miasma is cruel." Someone slides the lid back over the coffin, sealing me in with the spirit who haunts me. "If only they knew you."