Chapter 3
The soldier stared at Mistress Ming, recognition warming his face. “Lady Ming?”
Lady Ming? I thought, confused by both the unexpected title and the way she continued to kowtow in front of this strange boy. I’d never seen her display such meekness to anyone.
“Yes, Prince Renshu,” she replied, “though I no longer go by that name.”
“He’s a prince?” I blurted.
The wisewoman threw me a chastening glare, then dropped her eyes again. “This is Meng Renshu, second prince of the kingdom of Sian. Son of the late Consort Lin.”
I stared. The soldier I’d been sent to retrieve was a Sian prince? What had he been doing dressed up and dying as a commoner? Why hadn’t Official Yi told me this very important detail? Was the prince’s death supposed to be a secret?
“Who are you?” Prince Renshu asked, turning to me.
“Kang Siying.” I lifted my chin. “A ganshi priestess.”
“A ganshi…” His eyes clouded with memories. “That’s right. I died, didn’t I? But I—I don’t feel dead.”
“Because you’re not,” I said. “For now, anyway.”
Mistress Ming added, with another irate look at me, “Siying’s reanimation talisman gave your body just enough qi to help your soul reattach itself. But if you don’t absorb more qi soon, Your Highness, you’ll likely lose it again. I suggest using the qi of purified spirits.”
Prince Renshu looked down at his hands as if they’d betrayed him. He was silent, likely mulling over Mistress Ming’s words.
I took the chance to address the wisewoman. “How do you know each other?”
She straightened but remained kneeling, resting her hands on her lap.
“I used to serve Consort Lin as her personal healer, about ten years ago now. She entrusted me with her health, given my knowledge of different medicinal plants and charms. As for His Highness, he was often at his mother’s side, so I was privileged to know him as a child. ”
“Lady Ming used to sneak me rice candies with crushed peanuts,” Prince Renshu spoke up, a faint smile returning to his lips. “My mother was very strict about my diet, but Lady Ming didn’t think a sweet here or there would do any harm. I loved her for it.”
“That’s right,” Mistress Ming said, pleased. “I’d almost forgotten.”
Prince Renshu’s expression sobered again. “But one day you just disappeared. It was around my mother’s passing.”
Mistress Ming’s fingers fisted around the fabric of her skirt, and she inhaled shakily. “Your Highness … there’s something you must know. I left because I had no other choice. Because I knew the truth about your mother’s death.”
“What do you mean?” The prince’s brows knit together. “My mother died of an incurable illness … didn’t she?”
I was startled by the gleam of tears in Mistress Ming’s eyes.
I’d never seen her cry before. Yet here she was now, voice swollen with emotion as she said, “No, Your Highness. Consort Lin was poisoned. It happened slowly, in small increments, so I didn’t notice it until it was too late.
I will always bear the burden of my neglect.
But when I did realize it and told your father, he accused me of poisoning her.
So I ran. I escaped to Wen, and I’ve been hiding here since. ”
Growing up, I’d heard stories of the rich and powerful murdering each other for personal gain.
But it was still horrifying to hear of a young mother being poisoned.
How much more horrifying it must be for the son she’d left behind.
I studied the prince, noting the way his expression flattened like the sea after a storm.
Whatever grief or anger he felt, he was well trained in suppressing it.
“You never told me you were from Sian.” I addressed Mistress Ming in an attempt to change the subject. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“You never asked,” she said. “And besides, it isn’t a fact I share casually, considering that I’m a fugitive.”
It stung a little to learn that Mistress Ming didn’t find me entirely trustworthy, but I couldn’t fault her.
With her being accused of such a heinous crime after the loss of a beloved employer—perhaps even a friend—and feeling forced to leave her homeland and start anew elsewhere, it was no wonder she would choose to err on the side of caution. I might’ve done the same.
“If you were innocent,” Prince Renshu asked, voice strained, “who poisoned my mother?”
Mistress Ming shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I don’t know.”
I narrowed my eyes at the prince when he didn’t immediately reply. “You’re not thinking she’s lying, are you? Mistress Ming wouldn’t—”
“No, of course not,” he blurted, rubbing his jaw.
“I just—this is a lot of information to receive at once, especially when I’ve just come back from the dead.
I—I need a moment, please.” He twitched as if about to stand up.
When his legs refused to obey, he shot Mistress Ming an alarmed look. “Why can’t I move?”
“Ah. It must be your lack of qi. Right now, the only thing keeping you conscious is Siying’s reanimation talisman. You can’t move around much of your own accord, never mind have strength enough to walk.”
“Then how do I—”
Understanding before he did, I sighed and reached for the staff resting on the floor by my thigh. I gently shook the bells and muttered, “Rise.”
As I’d expected, the prince sprang to his feet, his eyes wide. I jingled the staff again. “Move.”
Our wills having aligned through the talisman’s magic, the prince strode out of the hut without looking back, his tense shoulders betraying his concern. His footsteps could be heard thumping down the front steps and pacing across the dirt ground outside.
Once we were alone again, Mistress Ming’s stern attitude returned, and she glowered at me.
“You have no manners,” she chided, leaning forward to swat my arm.
I shifted to avoid a second smack. “Neither does he.”
“Even so, that’s no way to speak to royalty. Were you raised by animals, girl?”
“I never wanted to speak to royalty.” Changing subjects, I said, “I wish you’d told me about your past. I would’ve believed you.”
Mistress Ming finally stopped trying to hit me. She shook her head, exhaling tiredly. “I’ve already made a life here. There’s no reason to bring up the past. Especially one filled with so much regret.”
I stared at the door, my concentration split between myself and the body I was animating outside. “Is that why you insist on saving the prince?”
“Perhaps,” said Mistress Ming. “He was such a kind child. I want to help him.”
“Are you sure he’s still kind? He’s much grown since you last saw him, and a son of the king who falsely accused you.”
“I can see it in his face.” She clicked her tongue in sympathy. “He doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him, just as he didn’t deserve to lose his mother so young. Surely you know what that feels like.”
I looked sideways at her. “Dajie, are you trying to manipulate me?”
She spread her hands apart and shrugged. “I’m only speaking the truth.”
I rolled my eyes, then unfolded myself from the floor, staff in hand.
“Where are you going?” Mistress Ming asked.
“Where do you think?” I stalked to the door. “To negotiate terms.”
Her disapproving “Aiyah” followed me out of the hut as I stepped off the porch and advanced on the prince standing beside the garden. He’d stopped pacing and was now gazing at the herbs protruding from the dark earth.
On his feet, he looked even taller than I’d thought, his posture perfect from years of practice.
His hands hung at his sides, with long fingers well suited to playing stringed instruments.
In contrast to his princely features, dirt and old blood stained his battered armor, prompting me to wonder if he felt pain.
He’d come back to life in the most unusual of ways, and I couldn’t be sure how his body had been affected.
“Have you cleared your mind, Your Highness?” I asked, slowing to a stop two arms’ length away.
He turned around, lifting the Fu talisman to meet my eyes. “You’re not very patient for a priestess. I just died in battle. And discovered my mother was poisoned.”
“Yes, and I am terribly sorry about all that,” I said. “But I have promises to keep and little time to do it. The first promise being the one I made to Official Yi, who is your…?”
Prince Renshu sighed. “He works for my brother, Liqin. He must’ve heard about the ambush and hired you.”
So the battlefield had indeed been the scene of an ambush. How incredibly unlucky that he, of all people, had been caught in the middle of it.
“What’s a prince doing dressed up like a soldier anyway?” I asked.
“I’m not ‘dressed up,’” he replied defensively. “I am a soldier. Just because I’m a prince, it doesn’t mean I can’t be both.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, though.”
He shrugged. “I was just trying to get out of the palace, see the world with my own eyes for once. Enlisting in the army as a common soldier seemed like the easiest option.”
“Or the most dangerous,” I corrected.
He winced. “Yes, well.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Going back to the main point, I still have a job to finish. Which means I must bring you home to Hulin, no matter the condition you’re in.”
The prince shook his head. “Not like this.”
I wasn’t sure if he was referring to his death, his disheveled appearance, or his miraculous return to life. Perhaps all three. Regardless, it wasn’t my concern. My interest in him extended only as far as his usefulness to me. And he had been, at the beginning, meant to be very useful.
I drummed my fingers against my staff, jostling the bells. “I must be frank—”
“You’ve been nothing but frank,” he quipped. The look he gave me was one I’d seen hundreds of times before. It was a look worn by friends, neighbors, and even my own father, a look that said, Relax, Kang Siying. You can afford to be a little more carefree.
And just like all those times before, I thought, I’ll be carefree when I am actually free of cares.