Chapter 13
We spent most of the night assisting the townsfolk with putting out the fire at Jing Mansion.
After the town doctor iced my wrist and bound it with a splint, I led a group in dousing the flames of the main hall and enlisted the bravest of the volunteers to remove the bodies for a proper burial behind the residence.
Though burned beyond recognition, Yuyan’s lifeless corpse still made me shiver.
The villagers were terrified of touching it, yet wary of her magic, so I offered to reanimate the body to move it.
That terrified them more. But seeing as I wasn’t about to drag the corpse by myself to the burial site, I sent everyone from the room and pulled out a reanimation talisman.
When I placed it on Yuyan’s head, I almost expected her to open her charred eyes and speak to me. But her spirit was long gone. Even so, it was strange to reanimate a body I’d once talked to, a body whose story I’d known a little part of.
While I resented the shamaness for all the suffering she’d inflicted, a shard of pity remained in my heart. Yuyan’s family had indeed been wronged, and she was right to want justice. I couldn’t condone her methods, but I understood the pain that had driven them.
I considered the other corpses in the room and thought I might save some work for the villagers by reanimating a few more of the dead. Reanimating multiple bodies wasn’t something I did often, or that I was comfortable with, but I could try.
Three talismans later, I felt my energy straining between the bodies.
But I wasn’t as tired as I’d expected. I used another two talismans before I decided not to push my luck.
Besides, I didn’t want to startle the villagers outside with a herd of walking burned corpses.
It was strange enough for me to see six bodies standing there, awaiting my command.
I guided the dead behind the residence and rested them in the pits that the others had dug. Yuyan was laid in a plot of earth where flowers could grow. I prayed she would find peace in the next life.
Eventually, the orange sky dimmed as the fires were placated with water and sand.
I didn’t see the last of the flames die out, too occupied with organizing graves for the remaining dead.
By the time I completed a condensed version of the burial rites—having no surviving family to cater to—I felt ready to collapse on the ground and sleep for a hundred years.
But I couldn’t rest yet.
Shaking the exhaustion from my head, I returned to the front of the mansion to find Ren. I’d last seen him dumping water into the western wing while making jokes to boost his companions’ morale.
Notwithstanding the suffering we’d faced since the beginning of our journey, he’d only seemed to grow happier, a sun rising despite the rain.
How he could laugh and smile in the face of such horror, I didn’t know.
But I had the odd thought that my father would get along well with Ren; they were much alike.
Imagining Ren and Baba meeting stirred an unexpected tingle in my chest. I bit my lip, cheeks warming as if I’d been caught doing something ridiculous. But of course no one nearby gave me any strange looks.
I expected to find Ren sitting among a circle of residents, telling stories or otherwise fraternizing with strangers when he should’ve been avoiding them.
Instead, he was resting against a maple tree, alone, with his long legs spread out before him.
He nursed a cup of water, likely given to him by a kind townsperson.
A light breeze tugged loose the hair framing his face, giving him a poetic look as he stared at the last of the smoke floating above the roofs of Jing Mansion.
What a beautiful boy, my mind murmured before I could stop it.
Tendrils of heat licked up the back of my neck.
I pressed my lips together, annoyed at myself for having such a distracting, irrelevant thought.
He’d sacrificed his life for mine, and my brain was just idealizing him.
Romanticizing every stupidly handsome detail of his face.
Ren’s gaze lifted at my approach. He grinned, the mole by his eye disappearing into the crinkles. Warmth pooled in my stomach. I ignored it. These feelings will fade, I assured myself.
“There you are,” he said, patting the ground beside him. “I was hoping you’d come looking for me, so I wouldn’t have to waste my own energy.”
“How very sly of you,” I said, lowering myself to the dirt. My muscles sighed at the chance to sit down.
“You look as if you need a drink,” Ren said, holding out his cup.
“What I need is something stronger,” I said, but I accepted the offering and took a slow sip. The water slid like heaven down my throat, clearing it of the dust and death I’d been inhaling.
“Were you rolling in a pigpen?” Ren teased, gesturing at my dirt-smeared face and clothes.
“Were you?” I set down the cup and reached over to swipe ash from his nose. His topknot was fraying, the hems of his sleeves slightly scorched. “I’ve never beheld such an unkempt prince.”
“Yes, well…” He trailed off as his gaze wandered to the townsfolk still roaming the mansion grounds. Some were huddled in groups, exchanging cups of water and catching their breath. Others moved in and out of the house, assessing the damage and searching for scraps to save.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Hesitant, he said, “I was thinking about my family.”
“You miss them?”
“No, it’s—” He tapped his thigh, his expression torn.
“When Yuyan possessed me, I was exposed to pieces of her memory. I saw what she’d done to the Jings, and I learned the true story of her ancestors, the Chius.
Did you know the head of the Chiu clan was sentenced to death by a thousand cuts?
Yuyan suspected my father was involved in the verdict because he denied requests for a more thorough investigation of Chiu’s crime. ”
“I didn’t know that,” I said. I’d clearly missed some details in my own glimpses into Yuyan’s past. “What was his crime exactly?”
“The Jings accused him of plotting with the Wen governor to overthrow my father. Back then, Wen was just starting to grow discontented with the monarchy, and the governor was still on decent terms with us. So, of course, he rejected the damning accusation and assured everyone he knew nothing of the matter.”
“You sure seem to know more about the kingdom’s politics than you let on,” I said appraisingly.
“Well, I did know my father had some powerful friends in Wen. He didn’t exactly hide that from me.
” Ren’s attention shifted to a pair of children running across the veranda while their mother shouted for them to get off.
“Seeing the families here tonight … it makes me remember what I felt in Yuyan’s mind.
The deep-rooted anger—toward the Jings and toward my family. ”
I traced the rim of the cup with my finger. “It’s true that your family has harmed a lot of people, both in Wen and Sian.”
“But I never thought it’d be this terrible,” he said, growing more agitated. “This intentional.”
“It’s difficult to see the full truth when you’re surrounded by finery and high palace walls.”
“Perhaps.” Ren turned and placed his hand on mine. “Mistress Kang, I admit my family’s failures toward this kingdom. You, as well as the people we’ve encountered, have shown me the undeniable pain caused by the crown. I want to make it right, but I need your help.”
I frowned. “What can I do?”
“What you’ve already promised,” he said. “Take me to Baimu. I stole my father’s seal before I left the palace—”
“You did what?”
“I was being spiteful, I know.” He waved his hand and continued, “But I wasn’t foolish enough to take it with me to the military. I hid it in Baimu when I traveled past. Now I need to retrieve it, so I can give it to my brother.”
“No,” I blurted. “You can’t give it to the first prince.”
“Why not?”
“Because”—I thought of the prince who’d visited the Jings just before their demise—“he shares the same interests as your father. He personally came to collect intel about the Wen military from the Jing family.”
Ren’s brows drew together. “No, that can’t be right.”
“You didn’t see him in Yuyan’s memories?”
“No.”
“Well, I saw him,” I said, somewhat defensive. “He was here for a party, and he was talking to Yuyan’s husband.”
“And you heard them discussing Wen’s secrets?”
“Well … no. But I saw Yuyan accusing Jing Ruchang of working for Prince Liqin.”
“Yuyan had a personal vendetta against the Jings and the royal family.” Ren held up his hands as I began to retort. “And like I said earlier, she was justified in some ways. But you must remember that she did wrong too. How can you be sure she didn’t misunderstand Liqin’s part in everything?”
I exhaled heavily. “I … guess I can’t. But the fact that your brother was here is still suspicious.”
Ren shrugged. “He was probably just here to maintain good relations between the Jings and my father. Maybe not the best choice, but well-intentioned as a dutiful son. Surely he wouldn’t have done more than that.”
“How can you be so sure?” I challenged. “Prince Liqin has made some questionable decisions. Why not convince your father to make you his heir instead? You’ve already got the seal, apparently.”
He blinked, taken aback by the question. “Because I can’t—I mean, I don’t want to.”
“That’s an incredibly selfish reason,” I said. “And we both know you’re not as selfish as you pretend to be.”
“Maybe I am.”
Surely he had to know how unsure he sounded.
“Now you’re dishonest,” I said.