Jade Fire Gold(95)

I drop the weapon and scramble away from it, looking as terrified as I can. It clatters on the marble floor, a dull ring echoing.

“With respect, Your Excellency, I believe Ahn needs some rest,” says Leiye. “It has been a tiring journey.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” I can sense my father trying to contain his excitement. Trying to behave like a normal, caring parent. “Come, my dear.” He helps me up. “Leiye is right, you need rest. I will make sure that your old chambers are ready.” And because he can’t help himself, he continues, “You can tell me more about the sword later.”

I sniffle and lower my head. “Yes, Father.”

I want to ask about Ama, but I know I need to bide my time and wait until he is no longer suspicious of me. As I follow an attendant out of the hall, I hear my father say, “Have someone watch her at all times.”

“Do not worry, Your Excellency. I will guard her myself,” replies Leiye.

I hide my smile and walk on.

It’s strange to be back in the palace again. Barely three months have passed since I escaped but so much has changed. Much to my relief, Linxi returns as my lady-in-waiting. We spend silent nights in my room, passing a piece of parchment back and forth, scribbling updates to each other before burning the evidence.

I’ve left the dark sword with my father so that he thinks I trust him. The tug in my chest grows each night, and my sleep remains fitful, full of shadows and sly whispers. But this is a small price to pay to earn my father’s confidence.

Every evening, I’m ferried by Leiye to have dinner with my father. Alone. He quizzes me about the dark sword, the spirits, and the Soul Beast under the Emerald Sea. I try to answer as best as I can, pretending to get upset and emotional at points to allay his suspicions that I may be planning something of my own.

It’s a game. A performance. Each of us trying to assume the role of the puppet master.

Almost a week passes before I dare to mention Ama. My father has kept her whereabouts secret. Not even Leiye has a clue.

There’s the tiniest shift in his expression when I bring her up.

“I never meant any harm when I said I was sending my men to her village,” he says as he sips his tea. “Perhaps you thought it was a threat. It must have worried you, but I was only fulfilling a promise I made to you.”

He’s so convincing that I almost believe him. “When can I see her?” I ask meekly.

“In time,” he replies. “You should know there are people out there who wish to hurt you, and that means they may hurt her, too. I can keep her safe, and I have been doing so.”

“Thank you, Father,” I say earnestly even though I want to scream at him. I have to keep up my act, just like how he is keeping his. “You always know best.”

I dip my head respectfully, vowing to outplay him.

Days later, I sit by the plum blossom tree in the eastern garden of the palace, waiting for Tai Shun. He was away on state business and only returned yesterday.

My breaths come out misty in the late autumn air. “Do you think it will snow today?” I ask Leiye. He tails me everywhere, which is equally reassuring and annoying.

“Too early.”

“I’ve never seen snow before, or at least, I don’t remember it. My grandmother says it’s magical.”

“It’s white. Then it turns gray and slushy.”

“Why do you make snow sound so mundane?” I grumble.

He shrugs. “It is.”

“Not to someone who comes from the desert.” I chew on my lip, recalling the snowflake that was in my hand when Ama found me in Shahmo. I must’ve known what snow was like at one point in my life. But that life is long gone, lost memories in a pile of ash.

Leiye glances sideways at the entrance to the garden, expression clouding ever so slightly. “He doesn’t know anything and he doesn’t need to know anything.”

“Tai Shun?” I guess. “Do you not trust him?”

Leiye purses his lips. “It isn’t a matter of trust.”

“Then what is it?”

He stays silent, choosing to straighten his collar. It’s obvious he’s avoiding my question. I know he isn’t an agent of the Tiensai or the Diyeh. He has been acting on his own accord all along. But I can’t figure out why he’d put his life in such grave danger. Or why he becomes a locked vault of secrets when it comes to Tai Shun.

“Altan said the three of you grew up together in the palace. You were close, weren’t you?”

Leiye nods stiffly. “Jin and Tai Shun were better brothers than the ones I had by blood. They were good to me, as was Jin’s mother. When she found out about my troubles at home, she sent for me and gave me permission to live here. My father wasn’t happy about it, but it was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Is that why you’re helping Altan?”

“I owe everything to his mother.”

“How . . .” I hesitate. “How did you manage to get close to my father? Was it through the priesthood?”

“In a manner.”

“What did he make you do?” I whisper, hating myself for asking.

Leiye’s expression turns blank. He strides off to stand in the corner, orange priest robes bright against the stone wall. No hint of his father’s Qin colors on his person.