Keyan
“You’re welcome,” whispered the dragon.
While I was reading, Wei Xu’s face had begun to clear. “Wh-what—”
I forced her chin up so that her eyes met mine. “Give this to your mistress. Tell her you opened it by mistake. And forget I was ever here.”
The last command, the costliest, stole my breath from me. I cursed as my knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed against the stairs. Wei Xu had already turned in the direction of her mistress’s rooms. I followed at a distance, dizzy and lightheaded, as she disappeared through a door at the end of the stairway.
In the back of my mind, I could sense my roiling qi—impossibly fragile, as thin as a spider’s web. Why did my qi feel so weak, when I had not used it in months? I called upon my lixia to strengthen it, but that only highlighted the stark disparity between the two. They were meant to exist in harmony, reflecting each other as mirror images, but now my lixia felt more and more like a hungry shadow, swallowing up the light.
I waited a few beats before climbing up to the stairwell, now cast in total darkness. Then, when I heard voices on the other end, I peered through the door.
A tapestry obscured most of the opening, but I could make out several nobles in the sitting room, in various states of repose.
“His standing among the people comes from that girl,” Princess Yifeng was saying. “They know she is bound to him.”
“He is popular in his own right. They see him as the great hero of the war,” said Prince Yuchen mockingly. “Because he waved hissword around a few times and shouted ‘Charge,’ now they regard him as fit to rule the kingdom.”
“Father will appoint whomever he deems suitable.” I didn’t recognize this speaker, but I thought it might be the fourth prince, a quiet man who rarely emerged in public.
“Your filial nature is a guiding light for us all,” said Princess Ruihua, though I detected a note of scorn in her voice.
“If only our dear brother Sky could be half as filial,” said Princess Yifeng. “He seems to believe he is the heir apparent already, with his flagrant disregard for His Majesty’s edicts.”
“The consequences of his disobedience will fall upon him,” said Yuchen knowingly, “sooner than he thinks.”
It was an unmistakable threat. I wanted Princess Yifeng to ask him what he meant, but her attention was diverted as she read the letter from her maidservant.
“It’s late,” she said abruptly, pocketing the scroll. “I must retire for the evening.”
“Apologies for overstaying our welcome,” said Princess Ruihua, rising. “We only wished to congratulate you on the appointment of your brother to the magistrate’s seat. You must be overjoyed.”
“Pity he couldn’t secure it on his own,” said Yuchen wickedly.
“Some of us rely on cleverness,” said Yifeng. “Others rely on who they know.”
Princess Yifeng waited until they all filed out. Then she burned the letter over a candle.
“Any other news?” asked Yifeng, watching the devouring flame.
“Your brother is asking for extra funds dedicated to Weiyang. The storehouses are empty and the famine is particularly bad this winter.”
Yifeng examined the remains of the letter, now turned to ash. “Tell him I can’t help right now.”
“Your sister also requests assistance. She says her eldest is struggling to pass the jinshi exam and may require—”
“Tell them they’re on their own right now!” Yifeng snapped. “I need to think. Leave me.”
I did not envy her. In that moment, she reminded me of my stepmother, shouldering the brunt of her family’s survival alone. No wonder even Prince Keyan had turned to her with his problems. She might have a penchant for brewing trouble, but she was equally skilled at resolving it.
I hurried back to my rooms, climbing up the yinhua tree. I winced as several branches broke and dropped into the pond with a splash, but no one came to investigate the commotion. Back in my chambers, I knocked on Lily’s door.
Despite the late hour, she was fully dressed, her cheeks red with cold. “My lady?”
“Where were you?” I asked suspiciously.
“I went for a walk.”
