I stared at the tree across from me, eyes traveling absentmindedly over its puckered bark. “He just did. My father is a master balancer, and it isn’t out of luck. He told me once that everything he does is braided into one common thread—family.”
Repeating my father’s words out loud induced a warm rush of memories: me crouching in the garden as Baba taught me the shapes, colors, and names of various herbs. Watching him mourn with the surviving families of the dead, his grief as raw as if their loss were his own. Fuming when my calligraphy strokes weren’t quite right and my father teasing me until I cracked and smiled too.
“Family,” Ren echoed softly. “Your father sounds like an admirable man.”
“He is.” A wave of homesickness crashed into me. I cleared my throat and said lightly, “What’s your father like when he isn’t busy playing king?”
Ren made a face but didn’t comment on my cheek. “He’s a serious man, all business. He’s not much for chitchat. He acts before he speaks, and when he does speak, every word has a purpose. He especially likes reciting historical facts and policies when I see him, despite my utter lack of interest.”
I eyed him critically. “So you really don’t want any part in governing?”
He shrugged. “Have you always wanted to be a ganshi priestess?”
“Of course,” I said proudly. “As the eldest, it’s my duty to take on my father’s work.”
“Duty, eh?” Ren flipped onto his back and stared up at the leaves knit high above, tiny shards of sunlight falling onto his face. “You sound like my brother.”
“Prince Liqin? I’m not sure if I should feel insulted.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. It was boyish—and somewhat adorable.
“You know,” he said, “another prince would have your head for the way you speak of the royal family. You’re fortunate to be in the company of a lazybones second son.”
I scoffed. “After what the royal family has done to mine, you’ll forgive my sharpness.”
“And what have we done?” At my silence, he tilted his face toward me. “Come now, you’ve been honest all this time. Tell me.”
I cast him a withering look, daring him to condemn me for what I said next. “Your father, the king, did nothing for his most vulnerable citizens when the fainting fever struck. He shut himself safe in his palace and sent no aid, no protection, to his people, and then he had the audacity to tax us harder when our resources suffered.”
Ren winced. “So my father has made mistakes. But why resent my brother?”
I snorted. “The first prince was just as shameless. Despite surviving the fainting fever himself, he never thought to have his physicians share their expertise, leaving the small-town doctors and their patients to fend for themselves. Because of that, my mother died. And now my father—”
I inhaled sharply, my composure fracturing. Unable to lookat Ren, I stared down at my hands gripping the peach staff tight enough to hurt.
After a long pause, Ren said quietly, “I’m sorry for your suffering, Mistress Kang. I had no idea, truly. But I assure you I’ll speak of this with my brother once I’m home. As I’ve said, he’s worthy of his position. He’ll listen to me; I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked, wary. “From what I’ve heard, Prince Liqin is much like your father.”
“You can’t always rely on gossip,” Ren disagreed. “I grew up in the palace with my brother. I know what he’s really like. After my mother died, Liqin took me under his wing. He tutored me in calligraphy and stayed by my bedside when I was ill. He even helped me escape the palace when I told him I wanted to enlist in the military.” Ren paused. “That’s not to say he isn’t occasionally impatient or distracted. But whatever his past errors, Liqin will be a great ruler, I know it. Like you, he cares deeply about his duty.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Such pretty words from one who cares little for duty.”
“I’ll admit I’m not like my brother, or you.” He grinned. “But I don’t attempt to hide it. You can trust my honesty, Mistress Kang.”
“Are you implying I’m dishonest?”
“I’d never dare to imply such a thing,” he said lightly. “Not when it concerns you, dear priestess.”
I scowled but said nothing. What could I say against him when I had, in all dishonesty, broken the law before by smuggling goods across borders? Not that I regretted it. I could never regret doing what I needed to support my family.
“You’d do well to be a little more filial,” I said, backtrackingthe conversation to avoid thinking of my own flaws. I wasn’t entirely persuaded by Ren’s portrait of his brother, but I could relate to Prince Liqin’s alleged sense of responsibility. “Duty can be a fulfilling thing.”
Ren tucked his hands beneath his head and closed his eyes. “That may be true for you and Liqin, but I very much doubt it for myself.”
I sighed. Perhaps he saw me as a mindless ox carrying the yoke of filial piety. Of course, honoring my father was important. But I didn’t act mindlessly. I was well suited to the work of corpse-driving, and I treasured memories of walking beaten paths, guiding the pitiful dead, with Baba beside me. Whatever Ren thought, I was content with my role.
“What about your mother?” I asked. He hadn’t said anything of her death, except in passing, and I recalled how stunned he’d been when Mistress Ming told him the truth. “Do you feel any duty toward her?”
