His hands drop away from me. The connection quivers between us, like the plucked string of a zither. “I have been in the capital for a few weeks,” he says, turning away so I can only see the side of his face. “Watching to see what comes in and out of the palace. The last reports said the emperor appeared gravely ill, but now … I’m not sure what Zhen is doing. Waiting to see who will reveal themselves as a potential threat? Who will offer an alliance?”
Kang paces in front of me, all composure lost. “They will kill you, do you understand? They will not hesitate.”
I hear the sound of thunder in the distance, even though the sky was clear before we entered this dreamscape. The intensity of his emotions having conjured the wind, whipping our hair across our faces. Lifting, spinning us up until our feet are dangling above the ghostly forms of our bodies. My stomach revolts at the sudden movement. I have to hold us both together, before our souls are severed and we are unable to find our way back to our physical forms.
“Kang!” I call out, fighting against the wind to maintain my grip on his shoulder. Reaching up, I dig my fingers into his neck, at the pressure point there. His eyes burn into mine. “My name, you wanted to know my name, right? It’s Ning. Zhang Ning.”
“Zhang Ning,” he repeats softly.
With a rush, we return into our bodies, a dizzying fall. I sag against the stone table for support, uncertain if my legs can hold me up any longer. Across from me, Kang pants as if he’s run a great distance.
“I’m just a girl from Sù,” I say to him. “Who will believe me, even if I try to tell them?”
A peculiar expression crosses his face. “Ning,” he sighs, and a shiver runs through me. “You … you have power. More than you know. More power than those foolish nobles in their grand residences, protected from the hardships of the world. You know what it’s like out there, living each day wondering if you will survive the next. You have hungered.”
He says this with an edge to his voice, reminding me he could have been a prince, if his father had succeeded in taking over the throne. He would be the one residing in the inner palace instead, dressed in silk. In Mother’s stories, princes never had a happy ending. They were exchanged for skinned cats, stolen away in the dark of night. They were killed in their beds while another power ascended.
It is dangerous, to be a prince.
“When she comes into power, her advisers will suggest she rid herself of her opponents. I left without my father’s knowledge, hoping she could at least spare the lives of my mother’s people.” He looks into the distance. “I hoped I could offer myself as … a hostage? An assurance? That the people of Lǜzhou will swear fealty as long as she does not do us harm. Lǜzhou has suffered enough because of my family.”
“What will you do then, if she does not agree?” I ask.
His jaw clenches. “We hope she will be different, or else we will fight to defend what is ours. She—”
“Don’t,” I warn. “The effects of Silver Needle are still active. Don’t say anything you don’t want to tell me.”
Kang hesitates, then nods. “I hope she will walk a peaceful path.”
He is a well-trained swordsman, and if the people of the Emerald Isles are the same … He speaks of rebellion.
An empire on the precipice of change. Alliances shifting at the whims of those in power. Just like the Ascended Emperor cut a swath through the provinces to secure the throne, just like his sons fought for control. One rules, one is banished.
Anything is possible now that the emperor is dead.
We all have people we care about, those we would give our lives for. It puts us in danger, or makes us dangerous. In a way, I resent the village I come from. I resent the ties that bind me there, because the people there remember my mother returning to the village, unwed and pregnant. They know my awkward ways, my ineptitude for social niceties, my many mistakes. But they are also a part of me. The dirt under my nails, the blood in my veins. I belong with those tea trees, the rice fields, the clay of the riverbanks, the fire in the kilns.
I am selfish, and I know now that I will no longer apologize for it. Let the world burn, if Shu can live.
The gong sounds. The Hour of the Thief.
“I have to go,” Kang says, yet he makes no effort to move.
“You should,” I say, yearning for him to stay.
“I’ll see you again.” It sounds like a promise. He bows, a courtly gesture wasted on someone like me. Yet I can feel the phantom pull of the thread still humming between us.