“—but unfortunately, the lack of a surname might draw attention. Also, do you think they’ll recognize the name thatisthere?”
Ren shook his head. “No one outside the palace knows my name, just as they don’t know my face. My father never thought me capable enough to attend foreign events or even step outside the royal grounds. That was partially why it was easier for me to sneak into the military.”
“All right.” I sighed in relief. “Then just do your part to staysilent, like the reanimated dead you were supposed to be. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“You make it sound as if I don’t know how to be silent.”
I cocked my head at him. “Practice it now.”
He pressed his lips together, focusing on the bundle in his hands. I watched as he gingerly peeled open the lotus leaves and studied the glistening brown rice inside. After a pause, he looked up.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” he said as I held back a laugh, “but what is this?”
“The locals call it nuomiji,” I replied. “It’s sticky rice with chicken, scallions, and mushrooms. My parents bought it for us once when I was a child. I’m sure it still tastes as delicious as I remember.”
“I’ve never seen rice packaged like this before,” Ren said, lifting the food closer for a better view. “It’s certainly convenient.”
I clicked my tongue. “Stop examining your meal and eat it. I bought it just for you, as thanks for saving my life in Guangli.”
At that, he smiled and took a bite.
“Well?” I asked, suddenly eager to know what he, a royal accustomed to the finest Sian delicacies, thought.
He narrowed his eyes, feigning contemplation. Then he looked at me and grinned. “It’s indeed delicious. Thank you, Siying.”
I quickly looked down at my own food, irritated at myself for blushing again. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have a border to cross, so let’s hope you’ll be better at staying silent then.”
The checkpoint was marked by a wooden tower built three stories high. Guards had been stationed above and below, silhouetted statues in a grassy landscape cloaked by night.Unsurprisingly, no travelers approached the road intersecting the border, which had once been frequented by traders, tourists, and ambassadors. Now it was occupied only by the watchmen and a single horse tied to the tower base.
A lonely breeze rippled the loose fabric of my clothes as I strode forward. The chime of my iron bells resonated softly in the air. My footsteps were slow but purposeful. Behind me, a rhythmicthump thump thump—Ren’s hopping—steadied the drum of my own heart.
I sensed, rather than saw, the watchmen straighten at my arrival. I avoided looking at them directly. My gaze traveled past the tower to the Little Snake Bridge that straddled the boundary between Sian and Wen, the thundering rush of the Xinzhong River underneath. Beyond that bridge was safety. Home.
One unlucky guard came forward to meet me at the checkpoint, his eyes kept strictly to the ground. “Your identification papers, mistress?”
Without complaint, I presented my papers to the guard. He ordered one of the other soldiers to come hold up a lantern as he unfolded and examined the sheets twice. His lips pursed at my place of birth, but he was much too superstitious to make any rude remark. He returned the papers with a curt nod.
“Thank you,” I murmured, hoping he might be satisfied.
But then a newcomer materialized beside him, voice grim with authority. “We’ll need to see your companion’s papers as well.”
I scrutinized the armored figure before me, recognizing the woman’s voice behind her masked face. Her gloved hand rested too casually on the sword at her hip.
“You again,” I said, lifting my chin.
“Me again.” The soldier held out her hand, waiting. “Nowhere to run this time, priestess.”
Panic sprouted painfully in my stomach. But I wouldn’t show any sign of guilt or fear.
I turned, keeping my expression blank as I took in Ren’s still form standing two feet behind me. Like a true reanimated corpse, his arms were outstretched for balance, his head slightly dipped and his face properly shielded by his Fu talisman. I’d dusted his skin with dirt and ash to hide his living flush. We’d also disheveled his topknot and smeared his worn clothes with mud and rotten leaves. An ill odor drifted from his body, courtesy of the fox dung I’d forced him to rub into the soles of his boots.
His controlled breaths were so shallow, a small part of me worried he was actually dead. It was disconcerting to see him so rigid and silent. But I recalled how he’d directed most of the disguise while bemoaning his ragged appearance. In the end, I had to give him credit for his acting abilities.
Our lives did depend on it.
I felt his body tense as I reached into his jacket and pulled out the identification papers.Please don’t move, Ren.My hand briefly tapped his chest in warning before I pivoted back to face the Wen soldier.
“Renshu?” the soldier read aloud from the document. “Where’s his family name?”
