In the blink of an eye, soldiers are everywhere, all around me, a crush of metal and sweat filling my nose.
“Protect the princess!” someone yells.
Bo’s casual words return to me: A hundred assassination attempts …
A dark shadow flies overhead, leaping from the crowd to the stage in one bound. Then, the flash of a blade.
I duck for cover and see the princess’s pale face as she notices the new threat. But the figure who leaped toward her turns his body to face the whistle of several more arrows, a lithe serpent spiraling through a whirlpool, protecting her from the barbed tips.
Whoever he is, he’s not the attacker. He’s defending her from the unknown threat.
His sword darts like a silver fish in the middle of a swiftly moving stream, and the arrows fall to the ground, harmless.
More chaos erupts around us as the audience reacts, realizing what has happened. Some cheer for the brave savior of the princess, while others attempt to flee. Just before the guards pull the mystery rescuer aside and force him off the platform, his hood falls back and the swinging light of a lantern catches his face.
My heart stutters.
It’s Bo.
Behind him, the wind tugs at the robe of the princess as she is rushed up the stairs by her guards, the embroidered cranes fluttering in the air as if flying, sparkling in the light.
The chancellor sways, blood dripping down his shoulder. He shouts something in the commotion, but all I can see is his mouth moving.
Someone shoves me aside. I try to stay small, huddled, out of the way. There’s nowhere safe to go. As I cling to the table, I can’t help but notice two of my cups turned on their side, their contents spilled, reduced to smears on the wood.
Just like my hopes in the competition. Ruined.
CHAPTER NINE
I don’t know how I return to the residence. I remember figures casting shadows on the walls of the courtyard, blurs of bodies and faces, soldiers forming a wall around me and the other competitors. And then I’m stumbling through our gate.
Lian calls my name, her lips pinched, eyes anxious. “You’re bleeding,” she tells me.
I can see the cut on my hand, the thin trickle of blood, but I don’t feel it.
“Do you … do you think I failed?” I ask her.
“Don’t think about that right now,” she says, trying to sound comforting. “You’ll find out in the morning.”
* * *
I thought it would be impossible to sleep, but I wake up to the morning light streaming in from the opened shutters, and a servant setting down a basin of water in front of the dressing table.
“You have been called to the next gathering,” she informs me with a curtsy, before leaving me to make myself presentable. I can spare only a longing glance at the morning meal set out in the main room. A warm pot of bubbling congee, small plates of pickled cucumber dotted with chilis, shredded chicken glistening with sesame oil. My stomach growls in protest, but the hunger is chased away when I see soldiers through the opened front gate of our residence.
We are escorted to meet the other competitors, and there is a somber feeling in the air, in stark contrast to the celebratory atmosphere of the day before. As we are hurried down the long hallways, I notice the fine armor of the guards. In the dim light, the details were obscured, but now in the daylight I can see the finery, the design carved into the back plate. A tiger, the symbol of the Ministry of War.
I recall, uneasily, the nightmares that troubled my sleep last night. I was surrounded by a circle of jeering soldiers, kept at bay only by the long staff I held in my hand. As they approached, menacingly, I swung and my aim struck true, only to realize with horror there was nothing beneath the helmets. They had no heads.
I bump into Lian, not realizing we’ve stopped before a pavilion. She steadies me and gives me a worried look. I manage a smile back at her, holding up my bandaged hand and mouthing my thanks for her help last night. She gives me a nod in return.
I compose myself and look around to see another well-tended garden, consisting of a collection of miniature trees and stone sculptures. We do not wait too long before the herald announces the entrance of Minister Song, who appears in distinguished white robes. We kneel, the crushed stones of the path digging into our knees. He addresses us with a severe expression, hands clasped behind him.
“I know there has been much speculation about the events of last evening, but the competition must continue. We refuse to be intimidated by those who believe the great emperor will cower before their attempts at disruption and disharmony.” His nostrils flare as he continues his speech, as if unable to consider such a distasteful thought. “The Ministry of Justice will be investigating the identity of the assassins who dared to attack the princess, and for her safety, the competition will resume in a few days’ time. Until then, all competitors will remain in the palace. I expect your full cooperation with officials of the investigative bureau.”