Empire’s Curse (Drakkon #1)

Chapter 1

Daiyu was in love with a dead man.

At least that’s what she told herself as she collected wild jasmine and bright orchids from the colorful field before her. She placed the flowers in her overfilled, handwoven basket and continued through the thicket of bright blues and fuchsias. The early morning breeze sent a ripple across the bowing florae, carrying a sweet scent in its wake.

Lanfen, Daiyu’s younger sister, smoothed down her worn, pale-yellow skirt with one hand and plucked an orange orchid with the other. “Don’t you think that’s enough?” she asked as she slipped the flower in Daiyu’s basket. “I’m not sure if Heng will appreciate all these flowers.”

Daiyu frowned at her brimming basket. “Heng loved flowers.”

“No, he loved going here with you, not to see the flowers. He couldn’t have cared less about”—Lanfen motioned toward the surrounding field—“all of this.”

“Heng loved coming here with me, but he also loved the flowers.”

“He’s already …” Her younger sister shrugged, letting the words hang. “I don’t know. I don’t think it matters too much.”

“It matters.” Daiyu tightened her hold on the bamboo basket. It mattered to her, at least.

“It’s been four years already.”

“I know.” She had heard this a million times already, from Lanfen, her parents, and even her brothers. Everyone wanted her to move on, but how could she do that when Heng had been such a big part of her life for years? “You didn’t have to come here.”

Lanfen touched one of the long clusters of wild grass brushing her hips. “Do you really think he cares about any of this? I truly don’t. But if it makes you feel better, all the more reason to do it.”

Daiyu turned away from her, suddenly tired. Her younger sister had only been eleven when the war had ended and Heng never returned, so she probably didn’t remember—or care—for him like Daiyu had.

They made their way to a familiar plum blossom tree with Heng’s name etched into the ancient bark. Daiyu traced the inscription with the pads of her fingers, her chest growing heavy. Below his name, she could barely make out the characters of her own name. Neither of them knew how to read or write, but when a traveling merchant had passed through their village, Heng had begged him to teach him how to write his name and Daiyu’s. He had then taught Daiyu her name. The memory tightened something in her chest as she ran her fingers over the rough bark.

When Heng had gone missing during the war, she had come here and torn off the bark until her fingers had bled. Because the promise on the tree—that they would be together forever—was a lie.

Swallowing down the thickness in her throat, Daiyu placed the flowers they had collected at the base of the tree. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer. That Heng was finally at peace, even as his body was likely buried beside hundreds of other unnamed soldiers. Even as he and his fellow brothers-in-arms had ultimately lost the war.

They stayed there for a little while longer until the breeze kicked up their offering and spread it back to the fields. Until the sadness ebbed away and Daiyu could finally breathe steadily again.

“Let’s go back.” Daiyu looped the now-empty basket in her arm.

They were silent as they headed back home. Lanfen fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve and kicked up pebbles on the dirt path toward the village. Along the way, they picked mushrooms with wide, flat caps and thick stems until their basket was filled once more. They walked past the terraced rice paddies with farmers tending to them, their shins sloshing through silty, watered soil. Daiyu waved to the familiar villagers and neighbors she had known her whole life.

Lanfen pushed a strand of hair behind her ear that had escaped from her bun. “I heard from Auntie Ju that farmer Bi Gan is looking for a bride for his son.”

“Hm.” Daiyu gave her sister a side-look. They slowed down the cobbled street with splashes of muddied water sprayed across the mismatched, discolored stones. “Is he now?”

“Yes, and you know how wealthy he is, right? Probably richer than people in the capital, don’t you think?”

Bi Gan was the village’s wealthiest man, but in terms of wealth throughout the empire, he didn’t compare. Daiyu had seen the affluence of the capital when she had traveled there with Father to sell some of their rice. The wealth there had shocked her. Men and women dressed in vibrant silks, women sat in colorfully painted sedans as men carried them, and even the carriages looked so different from the wagons she was used to. Not to mention the sheer amount of jewelry and hairpins that glittered off everyone. Farmer Bi Gan’s wealth seemed abysmal compared to everything she had seen.

“Where are you going with this?” Daiyu asked as they made their way through the forested area behind their home, away from the rice paddies and closer to their bamboo-fenced yard. “Are you looking to marry his son?”

“What? No!” Lanfen’s expression soured. “You know I’m not interested in marriage so soon.”

Daiyu gave her a pointed look as they approached their yard. “And neither am I.”

“But …” Lanfen lifted her shoulders, casting a wayward glance at the tall trees canopying the path. Tendrils of sunlight slipped through the covering of branches and leaves and made the browns of her eyes appear honey-gold. “You deserve to be happy. Don’t you want that?”

“Lanfen,” she said as gently as she could, “I’m happy?—”

“He would want you to.”

She cringed; the only man she was meant to marry was Heng, and he was dead, so she wasn’t keen on the idea of romance anymore. Her family had pestered her over the years, and she hadn’t relented, so she wasn’t going to change her mind now.

“He would want the best for me, and the best for me right now is to take care of you all.” Daiyu scrambled toward the gate leading to their garden. “Anyway, have you fed any of the chickens? Or checked for some eggs?”

“No, not yet.”

“Can you do that for me then?” She unlatched the bamboo door and swung it open to reveal lush greenery and vegetation. The scent of earthy herbs and fragrant flowers greeted them as they went down the dirt path intersecting the garden beds. Daiyu kneeled in front of a cluster of cabbage heads and uprooted one of them, then added it to her basket of mushrooms.

“Grandmother hasn’t been feeling too well since yesterday,” Lanfen said, walking backward to the chicken coop. “Maybe we can make some cabbage broth or mung bean soup?”

“Sure. I’ll also pick some mint and ginger for tea.”

Daiyu picked the ingredients she needed and headed inside the house. Mother was huddled over the fire stove with the three-legged pot, simmering water. Upon seeing her, she smiled.

“Mother, what are you doing?” Daiyu placed the basket of wild mushrooms, vegetables, and herbs on the small countertop and led her mother to one of the wooden benches. “Here, sit. Has your back been hurting still?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” Mother eased herself onto the cushioned seat and sighed against the backrest. “These days my back and hips are always hurting. I think it’s years of working the rice fields that’s getting to me.”

“You need to rest more,” she chided as she went to the stove. “Is everyone still asleep?”

“Yes, but they’ll be starting their day soon. Where did you and Lanfen go?”

“We went to the flower fields.” Daiyu went to work washing everything in the basket and chopping away at the cabbages, mushrooms, and herbs.

Mother was quiet for some time before she whispered, “Is that where you and Heng played together as children?”

She used to cry whenever she talked about Heng, but that sadness had faded with time. “Yes.”

Lanfen soon joined them and helped Daiyu prepare breakfast. They made cabbage broth soup and gingered mint tea for their grandmother, fluffy rice, pan-fried mushrooms, eggs fried in scallion oil, and green tea for everyone else.

Father, Grandmother, and the twins Ran and Qianfan, woke soon after and crowded the table. Once all the food was laid out in the center, everyone ate. Daiyu sat cross-legged on the seating mat and served herself rice, fried eggs, and mushrooms smothered in garlicky sauce.

The twins, both thirteen, could barely keep their eyes open and kept nodding forward and snapping awake, and then repeating the behavior.

Mother clucked her tongue at them. “You both have a long day ahead of you and you’re already falling asleep?!”

Ran rubbed the side of his face. “I’m awake!”

“I’m not.” Qianfan yawned.

“Our food isn’t delicious enough to wake you up?” Lanfen asked with mock offense.

“No,” Qianfan said with a laugh, while Ran picked up a piece of mushroom from his bowl.

Daiyu smiled as Lanfen and Qianfan bickered about what was more important: food or sleep.

A series of banging against the front door interrupted their breakfast. Everyone froze, looking at one another. Daiyu swallowed down the apprehension climbing up her throat. Nobody in the village pounded on the door like that. Who could that be?

“I’ll get it,” Father said, rising from his seat. Right as he opened the door, three men dressed in dark leathers with a dragon stamped on their chests pushed their way through until they crowded their living room.

“E-Excuse me,” Father started.

Daiyu jumped to her feet and joined her father’s side as the men scanned the room.

“Who are you people and why are you barging into our home?” Daiyu demanded.

“We’re looking for a young woman.”

“Excuse me?” Daiyu asked sharply, looking between the terrified expressions on her family’s faces to the guards in their living room. Lanfen grabbed Daiyu’s arm and clung close to her. “Who are you people?”

“We are a part of the emperor’s guard,” the closest man said. His voice sounded old, gravelly, and through the slits of the black-scaled helmet he wore, Daiyu could make out the creases around his charcoal-colored eyes.

“And why are you here?” Daiyu stepped forward, even as Lanfen tried pulling her back. She stopped until she was in front of the man and peered up at him with narrowed eyes. “We have done nothing to warrant the emperor’s men charging in here?—”

“We are here on orders to bring one of you to the palace.” His gaze flicked from Daiyu to Lanfen, and then to the rest of their family. “We heard a beautiful young woman lives here. Someone eligible for the royal selection.”

Father came forward, his voice soft. “Please, we have nothing here for you. You must have mistaken us for someone else. Please leave.”

One of the guards snorted. “We’re not leaving without the woman.” He jerked a thumb at Lanfen. “I think she’s the one.”

Lanfen gasped, and Daiyu shielded her with her body. “What do you mean?”

“The royal selection,” the guard said with a huff, sounding annoyed. “We’re to round up all the beautiful women in the nearby villages.”

“No.” Qianfan, her little brother, ran to stand between Daiyu and the guards. He balled his hands into fists. “I won’t let you take her away!”

The older guard’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at him. “Do you know what you’re saying, boy?”

Qianfan’s lower lip trembled. “I won’t let you!”

The tension in the room thickened and one of the soldiers placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Are you saying you wish to go against the emperor’s orders?”

Mother began sobbing, and Father looked as pale as snow. Her other brother, Ran, stilled as the implications seemed to set in. Going against the emperor meant death, even for a child. The emperor’s words and his orders were absolute. Their entire family could be put to death for refusing.

Daiyu touched her brother’s shoulder and pushed him behind her as well until the only thing standing between the guards and her siblings was her.

She squared her shoulders. “We aren’t going against the emperor’s orders. We will comply. However”—her voice trembled—“take me instead of my sister. She’s too young?—”

“Afraid we can’t do that, miss.” The guard stared down at her. “You’re too old and not much to look at compared to your little sister right there.”

Daiyu stilled; she had always been told she was beautiful, but it was true that Lanfen was much prettier than her. But to be told that she was too old? She was only twenty-four! Definitely not too old. These men didn’t seem to like her, though. She could tell by the way they were looking around the room, likely irritated by her lack of compliance.

“Please,” she whispered, stepping closer. “I’m still young and unmarried! I’m better suited than my sister. Please take me instead.”

“No,” the younger guard snapped. “The emperor doesn’t want an old woman like you.”

“But—”

The man reached forward and took a hold of Lanfen’s shoulder and yanked her forward. Lanfen screamed, and Daiyu grabbed the guard’s arm. “Please! Take me instead!”

“Back off!” One of the guards shoved her and she slammed to the floor.

Qianfan cried, holding on to Daiyu as two of the guards took Lanfen. The older of the guards stared down at Daiyu with contemptuous eyes.

“You should be grateful your sister is being taken to the royal selection. If she’s chosen, you lot will live in luxury instead of”—he waved a hand at their home with a sneer—“this hovel.”

Daiyu balled her hands together as the men dragged Lanfen, who screamed and kicked, out of their home.

Minutes passed and Mother continued to cry, while everyone remained frozen where they stood. Daiyu’s mind was blank as she unsteadily rose to her feet.

This can’t be happening.

Why was Lanfen chosen for the royal selection? Their village was close to the capital—a few days’ ride away—but their village was poor. Why would the emperor want to round up women from such a small village anyway? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to take concubines from noble families so he could form an alliance with them? What good would farm girls do him?

The pit in her stomach grew. Lanfen would be used as a bed warmer, nothing more, nothing less, if she was chosen by the accursed emperor.

Daiyu had heard tales of Emperor Drakkon Muyang. Of his injustices. His brutal strength. The strange magic he held—some said he was part dragon, part demon, part … something sinister.

Heng had died fighting against that monster. Had died in Emperor Yan’s army as Drakkon’s forces usurped the throne four years ago. And now that monster wanted her sister.

Daiyu would never let him take Lanfen.

Never.