The Shadow.
I should sound the alarm, but when I look around, the rest of the garden is still. The guards will not be passing through this place for a time.
The Shadow touches the wall and the hidden door slides open. The light from the lanterns catches the glint of a blade pressed against their side. Stepping into the tunnels means they will have direct access to the princess’s inner garden. If I scream, perhaps the guards will be able to find me before they silence me forever, but that is only if they are able to hear me at all.
Father’s voice rises unbidden in my mind: We always have a choice. A choice to stand up and do what is right. Even when I did not understand it in my childish ignorance, he still spoke up for the villagers, often at great cost to himself.
The panel is on the verge of closing. I balance on a precipice, the cliff of indecision. Forced to choose: stay or go, jump or cower.
I slip through the gap and pull the lever, shutting myself in with Dàxī’s monster.
The Shadow moves ahead through the tunnel, and I keep my eyes on their back. The magic courses through my veins. I feel in and out of myself. The voice at the back of my head screams at me: Rip the mask off! Demand the name of those responsible for the poison! Whether they are the creator or merely the distributor, if they know of the blood on their hands.
They pull on the iron ring on the wall and the door slides open. They step through, intent on their deadly purpose.
“Stop!” I yell.
The figure up ahead falters but doesn’t stop. The air ripples, the world folding in on itself, and suddenly I’ve cleared the space between us in a single breath. I run into them full tilt, and with a grunt, they fall, rolling, not expecting me to be so close.
It has to be something in the goji berries. The magic makes everything too bright, and my mind is one step behind, watching dimly as if from a distance, while my body moves. I land with my knee against their chest, but they are already trying to roll away. My attention is drawn to the patch of darkness under their left rib, the way they clutch at that side. I push my weight into that spot, just to hear a scream. A wild, ferocious sound of pain and anger.
Their other hand fumbles for the sword, but the dagger is unsheathed in my hand in an instant, pressed against their throat in another. When the metal slices the skin, they still, eyes looking up at me, breathing muffled by the mask.
“Tell me!” I demand. “Are you the one who poisoned the tea bricks?” I wish I had scalding Silver Needle to pour down their throat, to rip the truth out of them.
Another person is upon me in an instant, grabbing me from behind and pulling me away. I struggle, swinging the dagger wildly, but an iron grip grasps my wrist, striking a pressure point. The blade falls to the ground, useless.
I suck in a breath to scream, but I’m thrown to the ground easily, like a sack of rice. I want to roar at my weakness but scrabble backward in the dirt instead, turning to face whoever pulled me off the Shadow … and the scream dies in my throat.
Princess Zhen crouches beside the body of the would-be assassin.
I don’t understand.
The sound of drums thunders in the distance. Someone has sounded the alarm.
The princess gestures at me wildly. I approach.
“Help me get her into my chambers,” she demands.
“But … they came here to kill you,” I sputter.
“No, you fool.” She reaches down and rips the mask off the Shadow’s face. It’s Ruyi, eyes closed, mouth contorted into a grimace. A line of red seeps at her throat where I’ve cut her. “Grab her legs. Unless you want the guards to find you.”
I force myself to bend down and help the princess lift Ruyi, still reeling from the revelation of Ruyi’s identity. The princess is able to lift Ruyi’s body easily with my assistance. She struck the pressure point without hesitation, knowing how to weaken my grasp. I commit this knowledge to memory—she is no cowering flower.
Once we reach the princess’s quarters, we place Ruyi on the bed, then the princess directs me back to the garden to clear the rest of the evidence. I secure the dagger into my sash and then pick up the Shadow’s sword. With my other hand, I pick up the mask that landed on the stones. The wood, smooth against my fingers, is still warm from Ruyi’s face.
Returning to the inner chambers, I note the elaborate screens and beautiful watercolor portraits hanging in the residence. The princess lives in the middle of many treasures. A princess foretold to be both the light and the ruin of an empire.
She looks to be a portrait herself, cast in the golden light of the multiple braziers lit around the room. Her face is scrunched with worry as she paces. Ruyi’s body convulses, and she rolls to her side, where she vomits a torrent of dark fluid. Princess Zhen is there immediately, without hesitation, pressing a cloth to her bodyguard’s forehead.