Descendant of the Crane(42)

“I have protection.” The falcon Hesina chose gave her a reproachful look as she tied a matchstick-sized tube to its leg. “And I have a backup plan.”

Caiyan eyed the falcon. “That backup plan being General Yan Sanjing.”

“Who happens to be at the borderlands.” She carried the bird to the slatted window, which she opened to the overcast day. Fog blanketed the farmland beyond the city walls. “You’re the one who always advised me to use my immediate resources.”

“The Black Lake is not an immediate location.”

Hesina sighed. There was no winning against Caiyan, who sensed his advantage and pressed it.

“Send someone on your behalf, milady. Send me, if you don’t trust anyone in the court.”

She let the falcon go and waited until it was a speck against the clouds before she faced him. “You’re right. I don’t trust anyone but you in court.”

“That’s why—”

“That’s why you must stay.” She grasped his hands, willing him to understand. The journey to and from the Black Lake could take upward of a month…far too long to leave Xia Zhong to his own devices. “Only you can keep the officials in line while I’m gone. I need you.”

And I need to protect you. Hesina remembered that winter day. That terrible crack. The black pond waters. Blood on ice. Caiyan had almost died once. If the Kendi’ans really broke the truce, she wasn’t sure she could save him again. She couldn’t lose the one brother as close to her as kin.

“I need you,” she repeated, quieter this time.

Not enough to take me, he could have retorted if he knew where to dig the knife.

But Caiyan wasn’t Sanjing. He simply sighed and bowed. “Then use me as you please, milady.”



A crowd of commoners had gathered at the base of the gong tower; they knelt when the queen and her first advisor emerged. Some reached to touch the hem of her ruqun, and Hesina couldn’t help but flinch away. These hands had killed the Silver Iris. She wanted nothing to do with them.

“A word or address?” suggested Caiyan as they proceeded through the crowd.

Words? Her brain was millet mush. Caiyan’s reservations weren’t unfounded. Negotiations might fail. Sanjing might not pull through. A thousand things could go wrong on her first journey past the city walls, to the borderlands no less.

But what queen left her people without so much as a parting?

Without anger or grief to inflate her, Hesina felt small before the crowd. “The Eleven hoped to build a kinder era,” she said, then caught herself invoking the Tenets. The taste of ashes returned to her mouth. “They gave us a peace that has lasted three centuries, a peace I go forth to protect.”

The people lapped it up. Hope opened faces. Chants parted lips.

“Dianxia! Dianxia!”

“Wan sui, wan sui, wan wan sui!”

Unease rolled over Hesina, followed by the sensation of being watched. Over the heads of the commoners, she spotted a group of court officials. Xia Zhong stood among them. Their eyes met, and his lips curled.

What do you think you can do? he seemed to ask. The pieces have been set; you can’t stop this war.

They’d see about that.

At the Eastern Gate, Lilian waited with a bundle of cloth that she stuffed into Hesina’s arms. “If you’re going to negotiate, you should do it in style.”

Hesina shook out the black silk ruqun. A coiled dragon—the Kendi’an insignia—wrapped from front to back, very fierce, very beautiful, and very…headless.

Looked like she’d attend her funeral in style too. “It’s…”

“No need to thank me,” said Lilian as Hesina touched the red embroidery spewing from the severed neck. “I’ve woven threads of silver into it as a sad excuse for armor. Still, better than nothing if they’re dumb enough to cross you.”

Now that Lilian mentioned it, Hesina noticed that each scale had been rendered with iridescent thread. The entire dragon must have taken days to stitch. Her gaze cut to Lilian’s. “You didn’t have to.”

For once, her sister’s eyes were solemn. “It’s the least I can do.”

No matter how tightly Hesina laced back her emotions, Lilian undid her. There were so many things she wanted to say, but all she managed was, “I’m sorry I’ll be missing the harvest festival.”

The sentiment came out stiff; expressions of love didn’t come any easier to Hesina than speeches to the people.

“I’m not,” chirped Lilian. “I get to eat your share of moon cakes.”

“You would have done so anyway.”

“Hey!” Lilian scowled, then poked her in the arm. “You better return in one piece. I’ll never forgive you if you leave me with the stone-head. He’s been reading so many books recently that you think he’s trying for immortal sagehood.”

Caiyan cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you still believed in children’s tales.”

“Oh yeah?” Lilian raised a brow. “When did you outgrow them for erotica—”

“Ready, milady?”

Hesina nodded, hugging Lilian before entering the tunnel that bore through the city wall. Caiyan accompanied her. His footfalls stopped short of the other side. Hesina fortified herself against another barrage of reasons as to why she should stay, but he only said, “Be careful.”