A shiver trailed up my neck. I thought of the unholy site just outside my hometown. “What of it?”
“My husband was one of the men who spoke out against the king.” She continued over her mother’s protests. “He was killed by the imperial army and left to rot in an unmarked grave. I just want his body safely returned, so his spirit can be at peace.”
I understood then her mother’s warning. Indeed, it was forbidden for ganshi priests and priestesses to remove the bodies of the Sian rebels. The king had been clear on the consequences should his decree be ignored, which was why I’d never been foolish enough to disobey.
“Your mother is right,” I said, regretful. “I can’t help you.”
“What?” This time it was Ren who spoke up. “Why not? Surely, you can carry out the job when our journey is through—”
I frowned at him, realizing he didn’t know the irony of his own words. “The king himself has forbidden it,” I said. “Unless you’d like me to break the law?”
More than I’ve already done?I didn’t add.
Ren drew his eyebrows together, troubled by my reply.
“Oh, please, mistress,” said Feilin, pulling free her arm. It was strange how viscerally her despair hung in the air, almost as poignant as the dead’s lingering grief. “I know I’m asking much, but my husband doesn’t deserve what happened to him. I’m willing to pay you everything I have.”
“Feilin.” Her mother took her hand, more sorrowful than angry now. Her tired frame bowed toward the earth. “Don’t pressure the priestess further. Even if she helped you, whatwould the town say? Do you expect her to bring back everyone’s sons and husbands?”
My stomach twisted uneasily. “What do you mean by everyone?”
Feilin turned her forlorn gaze on me. “The grave of traitors, mistress. All those men were from this town. And the king killed every single one of them.”
CHAPTER 16
I could feel Ren grow still, but now wasn’t the time to explain the complexities of his father’s actions. Instead, I looked around at the quiet street, then back at Li Feilin and her mother.
“The traitors—I mean, those men—all came from Xiatang?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Feilin. “The border is close by, so we remember what it was like to travel between the states and live alongside our neighbors in Wen. Many of us supported their appeal for autonomy. My husband and the others—their plan was to march toward the capital, gathering signatures for a petition to share with the king. But they’d hardly passed Lingshu when the king’s army attacked.”
My surprise grew. The rumors had been that the rebels openly threatened the king with violence. That was why the military had gotten involved. It seemed the truth was much more twisted.
I glanced at Ren, wondering what he was thinking behind hisdrawn expression. It bothered me that, in that moment, I felt more concerned for his well-being than about his family’s crimes.
“If your men were killed farther north, why did imperial soldiers come here five months ago?” I asked Feilin.
“A month after my husband’s death, the soldiers were sent here as a warning. They came in the middle of the night, bearing torches as if to set our town on fire.”
I examined the houses around us. The sky had grown dark, the streets lit vaguely by candlelight through open windows, but I could still see enough to recognize the unharmed roofs and structures of the town. Clearly, the soldiers’ plan had failed.
“How were you able to defend yourselves after the loss of so many men?” I asked.
“We didn’t,” said Feilin’s mother, with something like reverence. “Master Zhang did.”
“Who’s Master Zhang?”
“Our former town leader,” Feilin said. “He—”
“Not out here,” her mother interrupted, glancing at the old man across the lane and a woman rushing home with a lantern in hand. “We shouldn’t speak of such grim events in the middle of the street. If you must tell the story, Feilin, bring your guests inside.”
The younger woman nodded and gestured toward her home. “Please, mistress, if you and your companion would be so obliged.”
I wasn’t entirely comfortable entering her home, having not yet agreed to help Feilin with her husband’s burial rites. But Ren and I had come to investigate an evil spirit, and as luck would have it, we’d found people willing to share information. I had to say yes.
I dipped my head in assent and followed the pair into their home, Ren close behind.
The house was modest but clean, with a few candles illuminating the dry herbs strung on the wall and a small bowl of rice soaking in water. Feilin led us past the cooking area to a crudely carved table with matching stools. A wilted chrysanthemum sat in a vase in the middle. Despite the candles, I shivered against the cold sensation of being watched by something in the shadows.
