Descendant of the Crane(31)

“Why, if it isn’t Prince Rou!” cried Lilian, batting her lashes and causing Rou to flush and stammer and bow to someone equal in rank. Hesina grimaced.

“S-sister, may I have a moment with you?”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” said Lilian, departing before Hesina could offer her a lifetime supply of candied hawthorn berries for her company.

Your loss. But mostly, it felt like Hesina’s loss as she and Rou stood in awkward silence.

At last, Hesina suggested a stroll to the koi ponds. Rou eagerly agreed. They sat on the shelves of rock, waterfalls cascading around them, and Rou reached into the cross-collar fold of his blue hanfu. Hesina stared as he withdrew a handful of lotus seed. First Xia Zhong. Now Rou. Was she the only one who didn’t carry food in her clothes?

The koi fled as Rou scattered seed over the pond. Then, slowly, they returned. As they chased the seeds, Rou cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

In two words, Rou expressed emotions Hesina couldn’t convey in a thousand.

“Don’t thank me.” It was easier to speak to her half brother as if he were an emissary from another kingdom. Be gracious. “He was my father.” Be honest. “It’s my duty to keep innocents from being framed in his name.” Be firm.

Rou scattered another handful of seed. “It’s my duty too.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Her tone was sharper than she intended, and Rou’s gaze dropped to his knees. “I know what the palace thinks of me and my mother. But that doesn’t change the fact he was also my father. Which means you’re my sister, and I should have helped you.”

Hesina exhaled, trying not to laugh.

“D-did I say something wrong?”

You usually do. Rou’s kindness always reminded her of her father’s betrayal.

Instead of responding, Hesina opened a hand. Rou poured lotus seeds into her palm, covering the fate lines, before closing his fist and scattering the rest over the pond. A second later, Hesina joined him, and together they waited for the koi to come. She was almost sorry when the seed ran out and there was no excuse not to stand.

Silence cemented the space between them all over again as they faced each other. The willows had begun to brown, and a catkin had fallen onto Rou’s head. Hesina instinctively reached to flick it out. Then she remembered Sanjing’s cowlick. Her hand fell.

“Do you like persimmons?” Rou blurted out.

“I—I do.”

“Maybe…you’d like to visit our courtyards sometime? They’re ripe, and, um, I don’t really like persimmons, but my mother does, and she says they’re best right now, and, well, she’d like to meet you. She’s wanted to for a long time.”

How long was long? Hesina dearly hoped it wasn’t when she’d still been spying on the consort from her shrubs; then she’d never have the face to visit. “I appreciate the invitation and will keep it in mind. Please send your mother my regards. And…” Hesina glanced to the mossy stone at her feet, composed herself, and looked Rou in the eye. “My apologies.”

Rou smiled shyly in reply.

As she watched him go, his pale-blue hanfu turning ivory in the sunset, determination gripped Hesina. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t quite bring herself to call Rou a brother yet. She would protect him. She would protect Consort Fei. She would protect all of the innocents in this trial by finding her father’s murderer on her own.





TEN





KNOWLEDGE IS TRUTH.

ONE OF THE ELEVEN ON EDIFICATION OF COMMONERS


GIVE THE NOBLEMAN A BOOK, AND HE’LL TURN IT INTO A WEAPON THAT ONLY HE CAN USE.

TWO OF THE ELEVEN ON EDIFICATION OF COMMONERS

A snuff bottle.

A book.

A bronze goblet.

A folded courier’s costume.

Hesina’s stomach lurched as she stared at her father’s items. If she was searching for poison, the goblet was the most obvious place to start—assuming she knew how to start. A thousand directions existed in an uncertain sea, and the full implication of embarking on a private investigation slammed into her.

Her, against a seasoned court. Her, against the tides of war. Her, against the king’s assassin.

Akira had been right to call it a story worth spectating.

With a shake of the head, she shut the chest. Then she gripped the lid, a thought blooming like ink.

Akira.

He’d deconstructed Consort Fei’s case so deftly that she’d almost forgotten who he was. A convict. The convict with the rod, destined to help her find the truth.

Hesina rose, giddy, and walked to the servants’ quarters of the outer palace, where representatives stayed for the duration of a trial.

Akira sat on the floor of his simple room, chair untouched. A pile of medical tomes sat on the floor, too, neglected; he was too concentrated on his rod, peeling it with a paring knife, making more wood shavings, it appeared to Hesina, than anything else. She cleared her throat, and he slowed his carving.

“I—I have something to show you.” It hadn’t been her intention to stammer, but things never seemed to go as intended around Akira. How was Hesina to speak to her representative? As an equal? A lesser? A servant? A friend?

Might as well get used to ordering him around; that’s what queens did, right?