She nods. “Understandable. It will only get harder from here. Especially if we need two days to prepare for this next challenge.”
Lian tries to offer a distraction by regaling me with stories of last night’s banquet. How she had to sit next to some of the lower officials, who have a penchant for talking too much when the wine flows freely. How everyone was abuzz with speculation about whether the emperor would grace them with his presence, even a glimpse. But he did not appear.
How did the Banished Prince manage to find out about the emperor’s death even while the princess has been able to keep it from the court? The rumors worm their way back into my thoughts again, how his spies have ears and eyes everywhere … snatching children to become residents of his dark kingdom …
“Can you tell me more about the princess?” I ask. If I can use Lian as a resource, perhaps she can help me navigate all I have seen in the past few days.
“When I used to spend the winters here, all the children spent time together,” she says. “Zhen was … serious. Quiet, focused on her studies. Not surprising, considering her grandmother was the dowager empress.” She grimaces.
I nod, remembering my own grandmother, who ruled over the Wu household with an iron fist. Only Grandfather could get her to calm if someone managed to anger her.
“We used to call her h? gū pó.” Lian chuckles at the memory. Grandmother Tiger, the legendary tigress who roams the forest, who has a taste for evil men and likes to clean her teeth with their bones. Myths reflected in life.
“H? gū pó was the scariest thing to roam these halls,” she goes on. “And all her attention was on Zhen, to make sure she lived up to the Li name. She had lessons from the moment she woke up and late into the night.”
“That sounds … lonely.”
Lian nods. “If your closest companion is someone who your grandmother picked to be your shadow from a young age … it’s not a life I would want to live.”
“You mean her bodyguard?” Ruyi. The girl who launched herself into the air with a single jump, like a bird taking flight, defending the life of the princess.
“Her family has served the royal family for generations, and when the dowager empress married the Ascended Emperor, she was permitted to bring some of her own people with her. Ruyi was one of them. She was trained in a secret fighting art that is passed down only to those in her family.”
One born to rule. One born to serve.
“I suppose it is easy to ensure a person’s loyalty if the lives of their entire family depend on it,” I mumble.
“Or they could care for them,” Lian says, unaware of the turmoil in my mind, countering my bitterness. “From what I remember, Zhen was always kind to Ruyi. She was kind to everyone, actually. Never behaved like I thought a princess should.”
I remember the chill in her gaze, the casual threat of her words. Something happened to that kind girl Lian remembers in the years since.
Mingwen walks in and bows. Her demeanor has been warmer to us since our encounter in the kitchens. She has taken over the care of our residence as the senior maidservant, and even though we are no longer permitted to associate with the rest of the kitchen staff, it is still nice to see a familiar face. “Competitors, your presence has been requested by the judges in the Hall of Reflection.”
“So soon?” Lian downs her cup of tea with a hurried slurp, and I regret not eating more to settle my stomach. If I am sick in front of the judges, it will simply add another mark to my already long list of misdeeds.
* * *
The few of us who remain file into the Hall of Reflection, a small indoor pavilion located in the Scholar’s Gardens surrounding the library. The floors are a pale white marble, swirls and patterns like clouds contained within. The walls are a gleaming blue-black stone, shiny enough to show our reflections when we stand before them. Above our heads, the roof ascends in a dizzying pattern. At first it appears to be a spiral, leading upward. Peering closer, I realize it is an illusion. Instead, tablets are inset into the shelves. Carved with names, memorials to the dead.
Melodic trills fill the air, redirecting my attention. There are golden cages positioned on stands, each containing a single bird, talking to each other in a series of calls and song. They are a beautiful addition to the room, living adornments for an emperor to admire. The coexistence of life and death.
Elder Guo stands among them, regarding us with a stern expression. Even with her plain gray robes devoid of any adornment, she exudes a serene confidence.