Page 14

A smile hid my turmoil, the dread entwined with hostility I had always felt around Their Celestial Majesties. They would never be as family to me, yet for Liwei, I did not want us to be enemies. I was glad when another came forward to claim their attention, relieved to leave so cold a reception. I had expected no less, and how I wished the evening had already ended. Would this be my life if I married Liwei—this endless churn of unease, of hollow words and false praise? How would I bear it?

Someone called my name, rousing me from my daze. It was General Jianyun, and for the first time tonight my smile was unfeigned.

I cupped my hands and bent from my waist in greeting. “Have you been well, General Jianyun?”

“Well enough. I trust His Highness has informed you of the recent events? The coils are tightening, though around what I do not know.”

There were lines on his face that had not been there before, etched with new cares. “Perhaps the emperor will see reason,” I said, trying to ease his worries.

“While I have angered His Celestial Majesty on occasion, I have only ever acted in his best interests and those of our kingdom. Which is more than I can say for others.”

General Jianyun was typically discreet; he must be under great strain indeed to make such revelations. As his gaze shifted behind me, his mouth drew taut. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of gray brocade, gold embroidery winking from the hem and sleeves. And those gloves—only one person in the Celestial Court wore them.

“General Wu.” General Jianyun’s head dipped in a curt nod.

This close, his aura swept across my senses—opaque, dense, and oddly reminiscent. Hardly surprising after our encounters at the Celestial Court, my insides knotting at the recollection of the vile things he had said of my mother and me. He was already turning my way, his lips peeling back into a grin, the jade ornaments clinking by his waist. Something else was nestled among them: a bamboo flute dangling from his sash, its tassel a bright green.

My gaze darted to his eyes. How could I have overlooked their sharp glint, even shaded by white brows and masked by a lined face? Anger pulsed at my forehead, a redness descending over my vision as I reached out to grab his glove. He jerked back as I wrenched it free, revealing dark scars streaked across his palm, the same ones on Master Gang as he had hacked away at the laurel.

“You!” At the thought of him sitting beside my mother, speaking and laughing with her—bile rose in my throat.

“Xingyin, what do you mean?” Liwei’s tone was guarded. A reminder that I had few allies here, and none the emperor might listen to.

Whispers slithered all around. I steeled myself for condemnation, for the guests to rush to the general’s defense. None did. While some glared at me, just as many scornful glances lingered upon General Wu as though savoring his humiliation. Some raised their sleeves, exchanging malicious whispers. I had always felt an outsider at the Celestial Court, but was not the general one of their own? Why did they not accord him the same deference as General Jianyun?

The glove was snatched from my grasp. General Wu tugged it back down over his hand, his fingers shaking a little. “Your manners leave much to be desired.”

“Courtesy is reserved for those who deserve it. Not for liars and thieves.” I spoke as steadily as I could.

“Xingyin, have you mistaken the general for someone else?” General Jianyun asked.

“There is no mistake.” I turned to Liwei. “Those scars on his hand are the same as Master Gang’s. Don’t you recognize his flute?” It was the first time I had seen it on him. Perhaps it was not something he wore with his ceremonial court attire.

Liwei frowned as he stared at General Wu, as though searching for the resemblance between this haughty courtier and the frail visitor to the moon.

“He masked himself, his hair and face.” A simple disguise, yet cunning, as a more elaborate enchantment might have been detected.

General Wu faced Liwei as he asked in ringing tones, “Your Highness, do you wish for your father’s festivities to be disrupted by these groundless accusations?”

He was a master at deception, his expression conveying nothing but righteous outrage. I struggled to contain my anger, tempering my words. “I know what I saw. I know what you did.”

Liwei’s fingers tightened around mine in a reassuring grip. “General Wu, if you tricked your way into the Moon Goddess’s domain, it would be a violation of hospitality. A dishonest and underhanded act.” He spoke in his cold, imperial voice—edged with a calculated detachment. This was one of those court games where he had to appear impartial to sway opinion.

General Wu spread his hands wide. “I am your father’s loyal servant who obeys his every command. If my actions have caused offense, Your Highness should address your concerns to him.”

A veiled threat that he had the emperor’s support. And he must be high in favor, to show such little respect to Liwei.

“Be certain that I will,” Liwei replied tersely.

General Wu bent in a shallow bow. “If you would excuse me, Your Highness. I must attend to your father.” Without waiting for a dismissal, he strode away.

“Wugang has grown bold,” General Jianyun remarked with distaste. “Few would dare gainsay him now when he, alone, has the emperor’s ear.”

“Wugang?” I repeated uncertainly.

“General Wu,” General Jianyun explained. “Wugang is his rightful name. How I first knew him, though he prefers not to be called so.”

General Wu. Master Gang. He had not lied; both names were his. The devious courtier turned ambitious general. The woodcutter and the thief.