He bows to the Tiger, acknowledging his defeat.
CHAPTER FORTY
“It appears you have failed the challenge,” Chancellor Zhou says to Wenyi, though his voice is not unkind.
But Wenyi does not address him. Instead he looks up to the princess and salutes her with his closed fist tucked into an open palm. A salute of deference, accompanied by a deep bow.
“Although I am not worthy, I ask to address you, Your Highness.” There is a roughness to his tone, and from my perspective, I can see his legs trembling. I have never seen him lose his composure in the time we’ve spent together in the palace. I should have paid more attention to what he was doing, rather than being entranced by Kang’s fight against the Black Tiger.
Zhen gestures. “Speak.”
“I have sullied the competition, Princess,” Wenyi says, but without contrition, without apology. Instead of lowering his head in deference, he looks up at her directly instead, as if in challenge.
“What have you done?” The chancellor’s words slice through the air.
Wenyi drops to one knee in a swift motion, his robe flying behind him. “I prepared for your champion a concoction of tea that saps away his strength and disrupts his inner balance. I had hoped the Tiger would cut him in half. I could not bring myself to assist this … traitor to the empire.”
It takes all my effort not to look in Kang’s direction.
“Are you saying you put something in his drink?” The princess leans forward, frowning, the worry for her betrothed evident. Their connection must be stronger than I initially believed, forged from childhood.
“I do not stoop to poison.” Wenyi’s mouth curls with disdain, and he points a shaking finger at Kang. “That is the weapon of his family.”
His accusation hangs in the air, a storm cloud waiting to devastate the land below. Hatred twists his handsome features into a scowl.
Princess Zhen settles back in her seat. “The matter of who the poisoners are has not been resolved by the Ministry of Justice,” she drawls, then turns to the officials, who are still watching this scene unfold with uncertainty. “Unless, Minister Hu … there is something else you have not reported to me?”
One of the ministers hurries forward and bows low, his hat dipping to one side in his rush to stand before her.
“Has the Ministry of Justice determined it is my uncle who is behind the poisonings? Is there something I should be aware of?” Zhen’s voice grows silky, dangerous. It is evident that her temper is rising, whether at the insolence of Wenyi’s behavior or at the continued display of dissension in the court.
Nothing remains of her uncertainty—this is an empress in the making.
Minister Hu drops to his knees, touching his forehead to the ground. “No, no, Your Highness. We have not yet determined who is responsible for the poisoned tea.”
“My family is from a town close to Lǜzhou.” Wenyi raises his voice, not willing to bend. “There has been a rash of disappearances from our town. People forcibly conscripted to the army, torn from their families. Those who refuse end up poisoned instead. Please, I beg you look into this, Highness—”
A blur of movement and a flash of metal. Wenyi falls to the floor, gasping, struck down where he stood. The Minister of War stands with his sword unsheathed, pointed at the back of Wenyi’s head.
“You dare demand anything from the princess?” he snarls. Two of the palace guards step forward, flanking him. “Take him away.”
The guards lift Wenyi under his arms, dragging him backward.
Wenyi looks toward the judges and the officials, but no sympathetic face looks back at him, only ones full of fear and uncertainty. It feels eerily similar to the times my village observed the governor’s cruelty. Everyone was too afraid to challenge his might, fearing for their families. Is this sort of tyranny what I am supporting? Is this the change the princess promised?
Realizing there is no rapport to be found in the crowd, no sympathy for his cause, Wenyi suddenly begins to struggle in the arms of the guards, yelling, “Beware! All of you! Shadows will soon follow!”
He is pulled out the doors, screaming all the way.
When the doors are shut behind him, the ominous lines of the prophecy still linger, weighing on all in the room. The relaxed, festive air has disappeared.
“The competition must continue.” Minister Song stands up again in front of the officials, attempting to maintain his composure. But his fingers smooth down his robe, betraying his nervousness.
Princess Zhen stands to face the court, her expression severe. “We will not permit the actions of one dissident to disrupt this event, and we will continue despite his attempt to cause unrest. The enemies of Dàxī will not see us cower.”