Yiran drew in a slow, deliberate breath, letting the rhythm of it smooth his nerves. He changed his breathing pattern, and he thought he felt something stir inside him. His fingertips tingled. Was this a positive sign?
Release it.
Hoping desperately, Yiran exhaled.
Nothing happened.
He stared at his hands—hands that should’ve answered the call. But all he saw were the uneven ridges on his fingertips. Afflictions of a childhood he wanted to forget.
“I can’t do it,” he said, voice strained.
For a moment, it looked like his father would insist he keep trying. But he only said, “It’s all right. You need more rest, that’s all.” His tone was light, but Yiran sensed his disappointment.
His father brought his cup to the sink. “Finish your food. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
His father smiled thinly. “It’s time you met the rest.”
Nodding, Yiran scarfed down his food, trying not to think about how that fervor he’d witnessed at the assembly hall had returned to his father’s eyes, and how the pancakes now tasted like dust on his tongue.
48
Rui
She is a child of seven, huddling in the rubble of her village. A horde of Revenants descended the night before, catching the villagers unawares. She is the only survivor.
“I know what happened,” says the old gentleman in emerald robes. His sword is sheathed, and he has a kindly face, but still she hesitates. “It isn’t your fault, child. The Revenants were drawn to your village because you are special. There is nothing wrong or shameful about being different. There are others like you and me.” When she stays silent, he says, “I can train you to control your gift, and you can use it to help people in the future. Would you like that?”
It is the first time someone has called her anomaly a gift. She nods and reaches out a small, trembling hand.
The Summer Palace is full of secrets.
One of them is a boy.
She senses him watching her again as she practices her swordplay in the grassy clearing by the lake. He has been spying on her for a week.
“I know you’re up there,” she calls out.
The boy straightens, standing tall on the roof of the pavilion where he was hiding. He looks to be about eleven—her age—but he carries his years differently. His robes are resplendent, embroidered with gold dragons, and in the halo of the sun’s rays, he seems majestic and untouchable.
But the boy isn’t Emperor yet, so she sees no need to bow. Instead, she stares boldly back at him. “What are you waiting for? Come on down.”
Surprise, then curiosity, flits across the boy’s face. He leaps, landing smoothly on the ground in front of her. She can tell he’s versed in martial arts.
“They call me Burning Flame, the beating heart of the Empire, heir to the Radiant Throne,” he proclaims. “I have seen you and the old grand master around. He’s my father’s friend, but who are you?”
She knows he’s trying to impress, but she also senses that underneath all that pomp is a boy longing for a friend. Grinning, she raises her twin swords. “My name’s Lei Ying. Want to fight me?”
She returns each summer for the next few years with Shifu.
“This is pointless,” Burning Flame groans. He tosses his sword away. “We have been sparring for years, and yet you always win. I have never once beaten you.” She tuts at him, but before she can speak, he goes on. “Things would be different if I had a stronger spirit core, and if I had magic.” He throws her a veiled look. “Or if I was born an Amplifier.”
“Stop,” she says, shaking her head. She had finally told him her secret the previous summer, but now she wonders if she should have. “You don’t want that. It’s not a gift.” This is a hard lesson she has learned. Even among the other cultivators, there is talk about the danger she poses. She has never lost control since that first time, when she was a young child, but sometimes, one mistake is enough.
“No, it’s you who does not understand,” he says with a sour smile. “I have survived numerous attempts on my life since I was barely able to crawl. I am surrounded by enemies, even in my own palace. I am tired of living in fear.” His smile drops, and his head hangs. “I am tired of being alone.”
She squeezes his arm. The assassination attempts have taken a toll on him through the years, and with the coronation coming up, it will only get worse.
