I vomit, hunched over on my hands and knees.
I barely have enough time to wipe my mouth clean on my sleeve when I see it. The thread of fate tied around Doctor Qi’s finger shifts from red to black, fading away like a candle’s wick left to burn until nothing remains. Then it disintegrates completely.
The emperor clicks his tongue, looking upon me with obvious disappointment. “You look to have two strong legs,” he says. “Tell me, boy, do you wish to live?”
There’s only one answer to his question, and yet I can’t find my voice.
He steps over the doctor’s still-warm corpse without a fuss, the fabric of his long robes soaking with blood. The emperor crouchesbefore me on the other side of the cell. He smells of rich perfumes, though they do little to mask the stench of the prison.
“I have heard of you,” he murmurs softly. “They call you the Thread-Seeker.”
My throat closes up, choking what little air I have managed to swallow. His eyes are dead and soulless.
“Is it true?” he asks me. “Can you truly see red threads of fate? Or are my informants mistaken?”
I nod shakily. “I can see them, Your Imperial Highness.”
He lifts his hand for me to inspect. “Speak, then. Tell me what you see.”
Confusion washes over me. I’m hard-pressed for an answer. I stare at his severed gray thread in dismay. If I tell him the truth, this will surely upset him. Everyone despises the bearer of bad news. Would it not be better to wax poetic about how a great love awaits him?
In the end, I choose honesty.
“I’m sorry, Your Imperial Highness, but it seems that your connection with your Fated One is… no more.”
His face hardens, suddenly impassable. For a moment, I fear Captain Tian will strike me down without remorse. My chest is on the verge of bursting, my lungs blazing from lack of air. All is still and suffocating. And then—
The emperor smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What news have you heard concerning the Southern Kingdom of Jian?” he asks.
“Only that the border has been closed, and your Imperial Army has, erm… met great resistance in recent moons.”
“But do you have you any idea as to why we’re at war?”
“Not really,” I confess.
“Resources, boy. Great empires are only as strong as they are wealthy. I’ve already liberated the Kingdoms of Lang, Fen, Min,and your Kingdom of Xue, and look how the people flourish under my guidance.”
Liberated?I nearly laugh in the emperor’s face, but manage to hold back. Only one head needs to roll today. I hadn’t even been born when the empire swept through and claimed my homeland, though the way A-Ma describes it, the people are no better off than they were before. It’s true that we share the same language, the same currency—but with such a large swathe of territory comes innumerable problems.
The Kingdom of Lang is known for their droughts, its farmers struggling to meet annual harvest quotas set out by the emperor’s own advisors. In the smaller Kingdom of Fen along the eastern coast, bandits roam the roads and pillage towns. The Kingdom of Min, located just to the west and bordering the Wastelands, is barely inhabited now. Most flock to Jiaoshan in the hopes of starting a new life, though life here is hardly a springtime walk, either. The year-long trade embargo has made normally plentiful goods difficult to come by. And the seemingly endless waves of conscription orders have made it near impossible to find capable workers.
But even with all these unchecked problems, the emperor still wants to claim the Southern Kingdom for himself?
I’m no ruler. I’m content with my simple life, making tea and serving cookies. Maybe matching a happy couple or two. I would never claim to understand politics or economics or the art of war, but this much I know: the emperor’s campaign in the South will serve no one but him.
“It seems you managed to escape the conscription order,” the emperor continues, one of his thick brows arched in a question.
I bite on the inside of my cheek, the memory of that day pulling to the surface. I heard the army officers approaching well before I saw them, the sound of their war drums announcing their approach. I remember their bright red banners flying overhead asthey gathered at the city’s center, fanning out to cover as much ground as possible while delivering their ordinance.
“I was granted an exemption,” I answer tiredly, “in order to take care of my mother. She’s in poor health and cannot work. As her only child, it’s my duty to remain behind.”
“Ah, that would explain this, then,” the emperor replies, holding the vial up to the torchlight. “You do know what this is, yes?”
I swallow, my throat unbearably dry. “That I do.”
“The dragon this belongs to… It’s the last in existence.”
