Jade Fire Gold(98)

I give the new guards some time to get comfortable in their positions. Comfortable and complacent. Then, I scale the wall easily and swiftly, surprising them with a few choice jabs to their meridian points. They fall to the ground, unconscious. I peel off my cold wet clothes, don the uniform of one of the guards, and pull on his boots. Much better. Grabbing his helmet and armor, I nod a silent apology to the half-naked man on the ground.

After all these years, I still know the palace grounds like the back of my hand. I march along, pretending to be one of the guards, occasionally traveling stealthily by rooftop. Memories charge back as I pass landmarks I recognize. The royal stables where I learned to ride, the study hall where I attended endlessly dreary lessons, the koi pond my sister threw up in. . . .

I spot a pagoda next to the lake. It’s new. The old Diyeh temple used to be there before my father had it torn down. Coincidence? A tug-of-war battles in my head. My heart wants to find Ahn first, but my head tells me that saving her grandmother is more important.

Cursing silently, I head to the pagoda. The multitiered tower is well lit, lanterns flickering away under its curved eaves, casting faint reflections upon the dark waters of the lake. Several guards stand at the base, wearing similar uniforms to the one I commandeered. They pay me no heed as I march up, probably thinking I’m one of them.

It is laughable how easily I disarm all of them. Either I’m that good or this tower is so unimportant the most useless guards protect it. Ahn’s grandmother can’t be held captive here, could she? But Linxi’s note was specific. I skirt around, a tiny flame on my fingertip for light, searching for a telltale mark. My pulse throbs when I see that curved line with two dots faintly scorched into one of the rectangular stone blocks at the base of the tower.

The mark of the Diyeh priesthood.

I tap on each stone slab surrounding the sign until one of them gives. A push and it slides inward. Something creaks. A hidden door with stairs going underground. I go down the first steps and close the door behind me. A torch hangs on the wall at the foot of the stairs and in its light, a stone corridor leading to darkness emerges.

Torch in hand, I pad forward silently. Several locked rooms appear on my left and right. Rooms for what purpose? Torture chambers? Some of them are cells with metal grates as doors. All empty.

Curious.

A soft moan comes from farther down the corridor, and I find a heap of rags huddled in one of the cells. It looks to be an old woman. Her head is lowered, shadows obscuring her face, but I see white hair.

Ahn’s grandmother.

As I approach, she shrinks back. She must be frightened. That terrible, terrible thought surfaces in my mind again, and I work to drown it. The chess piece the priests hold is right in front of me. No one would know any better if I killed the old woman and left this place. No one would know any better if I spirited her away and imprisoned her somewhere else. I’d be able to get the Life Stealer to do whatever I want. Some demon inside me tempts me.

But she’s not just the Life Stealer. She is Ahn.

I grip the cold metal bars. You are not your great-grandfather, Shīfù’s voice whispers in my head. I make up my mind, once and for all.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me, Altan. I’m here to rescue you,” I say. “Stay back.”

I draw a saber and put all my strength into my blow, hacking down at the lock. It breaks easily and clanks onto the ground. I pull the door open and walk in.

“Come with me,” I say.

The figure moves. Shadows melt away.

She lifts her head. “You.”





46


Ahn


I wake with a start, choking as my heart thunders in my chest. I felt unwell after striking the tree with lightning and returned to my room to rest. Everything else is hazy. I try to sit up, but something holds me down.

Nightmare.

A scream rises in my throat, wrestling its way out. But all I manage is a muffled cry through the thick cloth gagging me.

“Shhh,” whispers a voice.

Goose bumps spring up as the hairs on my arms stand. I hear the scratch of a match. The fizzle of a wick being lit. I squint as a flame blooms and grows, outlining the silhouette of a woman. The shadow’s hand brings a lamp to a face, and a pair of exquisitely shaped eyes framed with dark lashes stares back at me. As I adjust to the light, a masterfully sculpted face that is all cheekbones and pillowy lips materializes.

The empress.

A manicured finger reaches out and lifts my chin. In an instant, flames engulf me. An inferno of needles, ants, creatures with teeth nipping, biting, tearing at my skin from the inside. My mind is on fire, pushing against my skull, clawing for escape. I struggle, but my body betrays me. It’s a cage keeping me in the fiery abyss.

I hear the strangled cries of an animal taken to slaughter. It takes me a while to realize they come from me. Zhenxi removes her finger from my skin, and everything vanishes.

An illusion.

Shaken, I struggle to breathe as my eyes water. What kind of magic, what kind of sorcery was that? Is she a Tiensai? Or something else?

She sighs indulgently. “I can see why he likes you. Pretty, broken thing. When Tai Shun was a child, he found a beautiful kingfisher with a bent wing, half-dead from starvation. He mended it and nursed it back to health. But he would have done the same even if it had been a dull sparrow. You see, like many others, my son loves beautiful things. But what he loves most are broken things—things that need fixing. People who need saving.”