Descendant of the Crane(110)

And they would only grow greater. Her empty hand went into the cross fold of her ruqun and came out glittering with Xia Zhong’s sapphires. She pressed the fistful into Akira’s hand. “You’re free to go. Leave.”

Then, before she could falter, Hesina turned on her heel and continued down the right passageway.

Footsteps trailed behind her.

She drew up short, her body tensed against her every selfish desire. “What did I say?”

“That I’m free to go.”

“And to leave.”

“I am. I’m freely leaving with you.”

Why did he have to make this harder? “You once told me you were searching for what you wanted, and that I couldn’t help you. Now I’m in a position where I can’t even help myself. You’re better off on your own. Go. Live. Make flutes or burn fires, but don’t follow me.”

“You did help me,” said Akira.

She stalked on, pretending not to hear him.

“You showed me that it’s okay to rely and be relied on.”

“I ruin everyone I rely on. I turn them into monsters.”

“I’m already ruined.”

She spun on him. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t.” Hesina shook her head and pushed her hands through her hair. “I found the truth, Akira. My father is One of the Eleven. He killed thousands of sooths only to realize his mistake. Then he tried to fix things, and nothing worked because this”—she whipped out the Tenets—“is cursed. So then he hoped that I would be able to change things. He killed himself just to show me everything wrong with this kingdom, so that I could choose to stay or leave. And now I’m leaving, and—and I don’t even know where I’m going!” Her breath came in pants. She was quickly unraveling. Maybe it’d scare him away.

But all Akira said was, “There’s nothing wrong with wandering.” Then he took her hand—loosely, so that she could shake him off if she wanted to. When she didn’t, he walked ahead. Being led felt strange to Hesina, but she followed. She didn’t try to lose him again.

Eventually, she would resume taking the lead, because she was a liar just like her father. She did know where she wanted to go.

She needed to reclaim her throne, and her own kingdom wasn’t going to come to her aid. Neither would the kingdoms of Ning or Ci.

But Kendi’a would. Kendi’a and its already growing military forces, its parched populace thirsting for her land. In this kingdom of unfulfilled wishes, Hesina would enter with her own. She would wipe her identity. Start anew. Whatever it took—a well-conceived costume, a fabricated backstory—she would infiltrate the court and make herself useful to the Crown Prince. She would gain the confidence of the necessary people while learning more about the Kendi’an sooths. And when the time was right, she would make Kendi’a’s wishes serve her own. Together, they would invade Yan.

It was all very ambitious—stupid even. But if brothers could turn traitor, enemies could turn ally. Only one thing was sacred in this world, and that was the vow in her heart, a vow Hesina spoke with every step she took into the dark.

I will be back.





EPILOGUE




He watches her go.

As he does, he remembers their first meeting. He’d been bone and skin and white with fever then, and she’d peered at him from the bedside and said: The Imperial Doctress says you might die, but sometimes she’s wrong. I hope she’s wrong.

She’d looked so serious, brow crunched into a frown, that he’d smiled. His chapped lips had cracked and bled. He’d quickly sucked away the blood and scolded himself for being careless. Carelessness was what got others like him killed, not fevers.

From then on, she’d been determined to become his friend. Not just a friend. Brother, she called him, especially in those early days when he refused to divulge his name, not even to the king who’d saved him. The less they knew about him, the better.

But she kept following him around. When she discovered his weakness for books, she carried hers to him. These are my favorites.

Assassins through the Ages was a strange book for a princess. Then again, she was a strange princess. She fidgeted through her lessons, but not because she didn’t want to learn. She was always trying to figure things out on her own. She liked asking him questions. Easy ones—Caiyan (his twin had finally slipped his name), why do we have to learn history? If fairy tales are set in the past, why can’t we just read those? And hard ones—Caiyan, why does my mother like Sanjing more?

The tutors called her slow. He called her steadfast.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at,” moans the miserable minister, cutting into his thoughts. “But I’m down here.”

He kneels by the man. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Forget about being right. You came too late.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Less talking, more bandaging.”

He takes that as a yes. Good. He needs them all to trust him.

Only then will his plan succeed.

He tears a strip of his court robes, wrapping it tight around the minister’s still-bleeding wound. The man groans. “Is she gone?”

He looks again. She’s in the tunnel now, quickly dimming in his vision as the distance between them grows.