Descendant of the Crane(106)

“Oh.” Rou didn’t bother hiding his confusion. “Why not?”

Many reasons—her chambers were likely heavily guarded, and Rou would be an automatic suspect—but Hesina didn’t have time to explain. “I already have a way of delivering the master key to the dungeons. Your job is to keep an eye on my father’s study. If you see Xia Zhong or any of his servants entering it, assume that my plan has worked. Return at the second gong strike with your plan at the ready. Can you remember that?”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Yes.” If Rou’s voice was fire, Hesina’s was ice. A smile frosted over her lips. “Tell Xia Zhong that I have what he wants most.”





TWENTY-NINE





SOMETIMES, IT IS POSSIBLE TO GIVE UP TOO MUCH.

ONE OF THE ELEVEN ON REGRETS


EVERYTHING AND NOTHING.

TWO OF THE ELEVEN ON REGRETS

“Do make it quick,” said Xia Zhong, wrapped in a tiger-pelt cloak that appeared to be molting even though the beast was dead. “My bones ache in the draft, and as difficult as you were, I don’t take particular pleasure in seeing you in such a vile state.”

Hesina had made herself all the viler for him. At the sound of his footsteps, she’d rubbed her hands over the walls and smeared gray grime over her face. She’d tugged at her hair until it was as tangled as a swallow’s nest, then bit her lip and smudged the blood with the back of her hand.

That was just setting the pieces on the board. Now she made her first move by crawling to the bars on her knees, clutching them as she begged. “Help me.”

“I have,” Xia Zhong said. “Twice, if I recall. I believe you repaid me by almost taking my life.”

“Name your price, and I’ll pay it in full and more.”

“Your viscount is quite the generous man,” said Xia Zhong. “I have all that I want.” Something squeaked in the dark, and he flinched and turned to go.

“Wait!” Hesina’s voice cracked convincingly. “I have the Tenets.”

“I do too. All the editions, in five translations.”

“Not the original.”

His step slowed.

“Neither do you,” Xia Zhong said at last, but something in his voice had changed.

Hesina kept hers as desperate as before. “It’s yours if you can get me out of here.”

For a heartbeat, the minister didn’t speak. Then he chuckled. “You, my dear, have an affinity for lies.”

She must have inherited it from her father. “You think I’d lie? With my life on the line?” She shook her head. “I don’t want to die.” It was the truth, and it made her sound all the more compelling.

“I’ll humor you then,” said Xia Zhong. “Where is it?”

“Bring me my master key.”

“And have you run away first? These tricks won’t work on me.”

This was it. This was the part where she’d either fail or succeed. “Let me verify the master key. Place it within my sight but beyond my reach. I’ll tell you the location of the book. Once you see I’m telling the truth, come back and place the key within reach.”

In the dim, Hesina watched Xia Zhong consider her words. Her skin crawled at the thought of his spotty hands on the original Tenets, but she needed him to take it for her plan to work.

“You’ve thought this over,” he finally said.

“You would, too, in my shoes. The master key is in the drawers of my vanity. It’s silver and shaped like a dragonfly.”

Imagine riches. The silence stretched. Imagine glory.

Footsteps broke the lull; Xia Zhong had resumed his walk.

Imagine renown and fame, all within your grasp, if you recover the original Tenets when thousands of others have failed.

The footsteps stilled at the end of the corridor.

It was funny, thought Hesina, how Xia Zhong could create and destroy opportunities for her all at once. When he said, “I’ll see what I can do,” it was as if she was kneeling before her mother all over again, with the minister beside her, his words offering hope she didn’t dare grasp. He raised her up only to let her fall.

But this time, Hesina could fall no further.

So she grasped hope. Patience had never been her strong suit, but the role demanded it, so she played it. She counted pieces of straw on the ground, then cinder blocks in the wall. Finally, shortly after the midnight gong strike, Xia Zhong returned.

“Show me,” Hesina demanded.

He held up the pin, and she loosed a genuine sigh of relief. Silver and dragonfly-shaped—it was indeed her master key. She watched closely as the minister set it down in the corner of the corridor, well out of reach and tucked into the shadows where no guard would bend to look.

“Now,” he said as he straightened. “Where is the book?”

“On the second shelf of the king’s study, between The Annals of the Empire and Lizhu’s Chronicles. Hurry back,” Hesina commanded as Xia Zhong left.

Then she wiped the dirt off her cheeks and tamed her hair.

He wouldn’t return. He had no reason to. For all he knew, she was as good as dead. But he’d already helped her—twice. First, by delivering the master key. Second, by taking the Tenets with him to his own residence in the Northern Palace. Hesina’s blood thrummed in anticipation of reclaiming what was hers, then cooled. It was now Rou’s play.