But…I amended. This was the Ximing prince we were talking about.
I peered up at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t,” he said easily. “But isn’t it so much more interesting this way?”
It was like him to joke at a time like this. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my mother’s diary. “Fine. I know the servants’ route to the stables—follow me.”
“Here,” he said, before we left. He handed me my old sword, a double-edged jian made of steel. I swallowed with unexpected sentimentality as I lifted the blade in my hands, remembering its weight and heft. Sky had never thought to return my blade to me, I thought bitterly. And I, consumed by palace life, had never thought to ask.
Lei was a master ofstealth, prowling around corners like a jungle cat and taking out guards so ruthlessly they made not a single sound. Lily accompanied us, before leaving to wake her friends.
“I know which servants are loyal to the rebellion,” she explained, though I had not mentioned any sort of rebellion. “They’ll distract the guards and help you escape. I’ll show you the way—you can leave through the livestock gate.”
Lei had grown increasingly pale and reticent as the night progressed. After securing two mares from the stables, we tied cloths around their hooves and walked them to the servant’s gate.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to train you,” I said to Lily, asthe gates parted. “But you’re strong—strong enough to stand on your own.”
“I know,” she said with her gap-toothed smile, the one that reminded me so much of my baby sister. “Long may you live, Phoenix-Slayer.”
She had never called me that before. I shot her a look of confusion, but she motioned toward the open path. “Go,” she said. “Before the prince learns you’re missing.”
For Sky would stop at nothing to find me.
I mounted my mare and followed Lei’s. I did not know if it was the overwhelming emotions of the night, or the way the palace spires shone beneath pearly beams of moonlight, but looking back at the Forbidden City, I felt an odd mixture of nostalgia and regret. But I would not come back, I promised, turning toward the distant horizon.
I would survive out there—no, I wouldthriveout there—and I would do it all on my own terms.
Lei glanced over his shoulder and nodded. I urged my steed into a gallop, and we fled deep into the devouring night.
PartII
Twenty-four
It was rumored that the spirit of the Great Warrior had been reborn in Leyuan, for the leader of the Black Scarves stood tall as a mountain, broad as an ox, and fair as a spring morning. Astride his red-maned stallion, the rebel leader commanded the wind itself.
—Chronicles of the Three Kingdoms, 954
The sun crept stealthily overthe mountain peaks as we rode east, avoiding the main roads in favor of the surrounding foothills. My eyes hurt from squinting, but the warmth of the sun did much against the cold wind buffeting my back. Although the mares were old, we made good time on the flat, well-groomed roads paid for by the capital city’s high taxes.
But only a couple hours later, though Lei did not speak, I noticed him slipping in his saddle. Concerned, I drew up next to him, shouting over the wind. “Do you need to rest?”
He shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. But as we neared Canyuan, one of the last rural villages in the Chuang Ning prefecture, I caught sight of his slackening body, and I pulled my horse toward his just in time, catching him before he fell.
“Lei!” Up close, I saw that his skin was slick with sweat. I felt his forehead—high fever.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“I-I don’t know,” he said, as his eyes fluttered shut.
“When did you start feeling symptoms?”
His breathing was turning increasingly shallow.
“Answer me!” I demanded.
“A few hours ago…I think,” he rasped.
A normal illness would not have set in this quickly. Unless this wasn’t normal.
