Consumption.So she had guessed right. It was a slow-encroaching disease that resulted in death.
“Consumption,” Tai said. “You did not have it. When we were children.”
Hóng’yì shrugged. “Life is full of surprises. Some pleasant, some not.”
Dilaya suddenly loudly slurped her soup. Lan bit into a piece of quail and, to change the subject, quipped, “Where did you get these? Not a lot of marketplaces around this neighborhood.”
The heir leaned back in his chair, made of the same expensive yellow rosewood as his throne. He held a cup of tea in one hand and picked at the dried fruits on a small enameled plate with the other. “Tithes from the Jade Trail,” he said. “My warriors are often hired by merchant groups to protect caravans from desert demons. We receive payment in the form of their goods.”
“I did not expect this,” Tai said. He was still staring at Hóng’yì as though he expected to awaken from a fever-dream at any second. “I did not expect to find you.Alive.”
“Indeed. So whatdidyou expect?” Just like that, the prince’s tone turned sharp, his question as quick as an arrow.
“An empty myth. Ruins.”
“And now that you’ve found me? Am I—” The imperial heirdoubled over in another fit of coughing. He cast a shaky smile at them as he wiped his lips. “Am I not what you expected?” His voice rasped.
Lan set her chopsticks down. She suddenly felt nauseated from the richness of the food. “You’ve been here all this time,” she said quietly. “Why? You are the crown prince, the imperial heir to the Last Kingdom. Where were you when your kingdom fell and your people needed you?”
The prince set down his tea. He would not meet Lan’s eyes. “In hiding,” he said quietly. “When the resistance to the Elantian invasion began to fail, Father planned to send me away. But before he could do so, he died, and along with him, the power of the imperial household…and the Last Kingdom. I fled. I was weak and sick, and it nearly killed me to reach the secret palace my ancestors had built in anticipation of a day like that.”
Lan held her breath, listening carefully to Hóng’yì’s every word. Dilaya and Tai had gone still, hooked by the imperial heir’s narration.
“I spent cycles simply trying to survive, working out a supply route and keeping myself alive. There were others sheltering in this great desert who found their way to me…and slowly, I began to build an army. I didn’t know if there was still a point to what I was doing—not when my kingdom had fallen so quickly and so thoroughly to the Elantians.”
“So you bided your time.” Lan couldn’t help the tremble of frustration that had seeped into her tone. “You were able to conjure such a powerful water demon. You have guards; you have warriors taking down monsters in the desert, but you turn away from the real monsters that have our kingdom in their hold? From the people who have suffered for the past twelve cycles, waiting for a savior?” Her voice had risen; it broke on the last word.
She had been one of those people.
The prince bowed his head. “I was young and afraid. I was…I was a coward. I cannot ask for forgiveness, but perhaps I can make amends for my inaction over the past twelve cycles.” Finally, his gaze found hers and held it. “You are practitioners, are you not? You have hidden from the Elantians, and you have survived to find me. Help me. Help me save this kingdom.”
Lan’s lips parted. Dilaya’s jaw dropped. Tai blinked, watching the prince with an unreadable expression.
Hóng’yì cleared his throat. With a sweep of his long sleeves, his desperation vanished; in its place was the cheerful prince, hosting guests over a sumptuous feast. “I apologize. Hardly one bell of knowing one another and I already seek your alliance. Such heavy topics are meant for the morning.”
“Some of us have not had the luxury of time,” Dilaya said harshly. Lan kicked her friend under the table, but Dilaya ignored her. “I don’t mince my words, so let me be plain and clear from the start. I am Yeshin Noro Dilaya of the Jorshen Steel clan. Ring a bell?”
Lan considered throttling Dilaya. The matriarch was not made for the art of negotiation and wordplay over fine dining and court silks; she had been built for the language of war and swords. In a single sentence, she had blown their cover.
Hóng’yì inclined his head. “Our ancestors were at war. Mine fought to eradicate yours.” And then the imperial heir of the Last Kingdom did the unimaginable. He stood, then went down on bended knee. “My life was saved by members of the Ninety-Nine Clans. I cannot change the past, but perhaps I can atone for it by building a different future.”
Lan’s breathing eased. This could have gone in a very different, very unpleasant direction. Dilaya, too, looked momentarily shocked into silence. And then her gray eye narrowed.“Good” was all she said, but Lan knew the prince had moved her with his confession. Yeshin Noro Dilaya giving any form of a positive response was akin to the sun rising in the west.
Hóng’yì stood. “I presume you will stay the night.” He did not await a response. “My guards will escort you to the guest chambers. Please make yourself at home. It has been long since I’ve had company.”
The three companions stood to follow them. Lan felt a hand on her shoulder, turned to see that it was the prince’s.
“I’d like to walk you to your chambers if you would allow me,” he said.
She let him lead her down his palace’s corridors. The doors were thrown open to the cool desert air, and moonlight streamed through the paper windows. Gold silk curtains stirred in the gentle breezes that threaded the halls.
Hóng’yì paused before a set of sliding rosewood doors. “It wasn’t always like this,” he said. “When the Elantians invaded and Tian’jing, the Heavenly Capital, fell, I was powerless. I had only my squadron of guards and this luxurious, empty palace—a golden cage.”
“And things are different now?” Lan asked.
He watched her through his long lashes. “Perhaps,” he replied. “You asked me where I have been for the past twelve cycles while my people suffered. If I told you I was biding my time, gathering my resources and searching for a way to take this kingdom back, would you believe me?”
She was silent.
