Chapter 15 #2
That was one way to describe death, I thought as I threw another stick into the fire. “Well, we’d better get you—and the seal—back to Hulin fast. Before Official Yi realizes you’re alive and tries to kill you again.”
When Ren didn’t respond, I looked up to see him watching me, his mouth gently curved.
“What?” I said, feeling flustered by how steadily he held my eyes.
“I’m just happy,” he said, cheeks pinking.
“About what?”
He shrugged. “About how much you care. Just now, you didn’t even mention what you’re getting out of all this. Before, you probably would’ve asked for more money, considering the situation.”
I propped my chin in my palm. “Hmm, you’re right. I would like a bonus, please. What with would-be assassins and Wen soldiers now involved.”
He laughed, the sound melting the last slivers of cold around me. “I’m not opposed to paying you more. You’re certainly worth it. But you can’t deny it—you like me at least a little bit, don’t you?”
“How arrogant.”
He leaned close, his breath warm on my cheek as he whispered, “Ah, but is it arrogance or plain truth? Between the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one being proud here.”
A not-unpleasurable shiver traveled up my arms. I found myself speechless, mind stuttering to a stop, as he pulled back and gazed at me with those playful, tea-black eyes. His breath was now on my lips, and it’d be so easy to tilt up my chin and kiss him.
Maybe he read the thoughts on my face because his smile suddenly softened. He brushed his fingers against the curve of my neck, prompting my pulse to stumble. My body ached for him to draw closer, hungry for his heat to press into my own.
Ren’s voice came out as a husky whisper. “Siying…”
The firewood chose to crack just then, startling us away from each other. I took it as a warning from the gods.
I was a ganshi priestess, and Ren was a prince. There was no world in which something could happen between us. I scooted closer to the fire and brushed invisible dirt from my clothes. Without looking at Ren, I said, “It’s late. You should get some rest before we continue our journey.”
We arrived in Xiatang the following evening, just as the sun was bleeding into the horizon.
The town was built like a cross, with two large roads intersecting at the center and houses tucked in neat rows between them.
Each building featured timberwork combined with rammed earth, their tiled roofs uniform in their gray coloring and pinched ridges.
A low tower had been erected by the outer gate, with a watchman assigned to observe the arrival of visitors.
I glanced at the watchman, whose face was shadowed beneath the eaves, as I led Ren through the gate.
Though a smattering of residents milled freely about, there was a strange tension in the air.
The people we passed walked with heavy feet, and they were unusually thin despite the cultivated farmland around them.
“We should find someone to speak to,” Ren murmured beside me. Once again, he’d hidden his Fu talisman beneath his hood to avoid provoking fear.
“Yes, but who?” I said, scanning the passersby.
“What about that man?” He nodded at an elder puffing on a long wooden pipe outside his house. The man appeared to be in his eighties, reclining quietly in a wide bamboo chair. With his scrawny frame and shallow breaths, it was startling how much he resembled a corpse.
I started toward him but was distracted by a hand brushing my arm. I turned abruptly, thinking it was Ren. Instead, I met the nervous eyes of a sallow-faced woman not much older than me.
“Yes?” I said, quickly turning my surprised jolt into a polite bow of my head.
The woman’s gaze flitted over my teal robes, wooden beads, and the peach staff in my hand. “Are you a ganshi priestess?”
“Yes. My name is Kang Siying. Who, may I ask, are you?”
“Li Feilin, mistress.” She glanced at Ren. “And is your husband a priest too?”
He smiled, eyes bright with delight. “I’m afraid I don’t have the right temperament for such work.”
I elbowed him, annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to correct her mistake. “He’s neither my husband nor a priest,” I said, hoping my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “He’s just a fellow traveler; pay him no heed. What can I help you with, Miss Li?”
“I’d like to hire you,” said Feilin, grasping my free hand. I flinched both at the shocking cold of her skin and the twinge in my wrist. “You see, my husband—”
“Feilin!” An older woman dashed out the door of a squat two-story house and raced over to grab the younger woman’s arm. She had the same thin build as Feilin. “What do you think you’re doing? You were supposed to be washing rice.”
“Yes, Mama, I know. But this priestess—”
“Priestess?” Her mother looked over me. “A ganshi priestess?”
“Yes, madam.” I inclined my head. “Your daughter was just inquiring after my services.”
“What?” The woman squeezed Feilin harder, her eyes narrowing. “Corpse-driving services, Feilin? You know it’s forbidden.”
“Mama—”
“Pardon me.” I examined the pair more seriously. “Why is it forbidden?”
Feilin turned to push her mother back. She spoke quickly, insistently, her sunken eyes filling my vision. “Do you know of the grave of traitors?”
A shiver trailed up my neck. I thought of the unholy site just outside my hometown. “What of it?”
“My husband was one of the men who spoke out against the king.” She continued over her mother’s protests. “He was killed by the imperial army and left to rot in an unmarked grave. I just want his body safely returned, so his spirit can be at peace.”
I understood then her mother’s warning. Indeed, it was forbidden for ganshi priests and priestesses to remove the bodies of the Sian rebels. The king had been clear on the consequences should his decree be ignored, which was why I’d never been foolish enough to disobey.
“Your mother is right,” I said, regretful. “I can’t help you.”
“What?” This time it was Ren who spoke up. “Why not? Surely, you can carry out the job when our journey is through—”
I frowned at him, realizing he didn’t know the irony of his own words. “The king himself has forbidden it,” I said. “Unless you’d like me to break the law?”
More than I’ve already done? I didn’t add.
Ren drew his eyebrows together, troubled by my reply.
“Oh, please, mistress,” said Feilin, pulling free her arm. It was strange how viscerally her despair hung in the air, almost as poignant as the dead’s lingering grief. “I know I’m asking much, but my husband doesn’t deserve what happened to him. I’m willing to pay you everything I have.”
“Feilin.” Her mother took her hand, more sorrowful than angry now. Her tired frame bowed toward the earth. “Don’t pressure the priestess further. Even if she helped you, what would the town say? Do you expect her to bring back everyone’s sons and husbands?”
My stomach twisted uneasily. “What do you mean by everyone?”
Feilin turned her forlorn gaze on me. “The grave of traitors, mistress. All those men were from this town. And the king killed every single one of them.”