Chapter 24
I’d witnessed death many times before. I’d seen it kiss shut the eyelids of my mother, and I’d walked in its company across long, lonely roads.
I was also familiar with death’s sister, grief.
I’d felt the cold, slender arms of loss wrap around my shoulders, drag down the souls of survivors until they fell to their knees.
I saw it now as Lilan collapsed over Baba’s chest and sobbed.
But I didn’t fall.
I gently pulled Lilan away and placed my hands over my father’s heart. Eyes closed, I focused on the qi inside me and attempted to share it with him. But it only pooled in my hands, like oil over water, refusing to merge.
Fear prickled the back of my skull.
I brushed it away and tried again.
Still nothing.
Why wasn’t it working? I sensed Ren’s concerned silence behind me, an awful realization needling my mind.
A reanimation spell had once sparked Ren’s life, giving him enough qi for his spirit to reattach to his body. But that had been possible only because his spirit was hovering nearby.
Which meant that the soul of my father had already left—and no matter how I tried to pour my qi into his body, he wouldn’t be coming back.
I shook my head at Lilan, watching as she crumpled to the floor.
I will not fall, I thought, covering my father’s body with a sheet. I cannot fall.
The rain continued pouring outside, droplets bouncing playfully off the eaves and gutters, unaware that time had stopped inside the monastery. I left the room and walked stiffly through the residence. At the front veranda of the temple, I didn’t hesitate to descend the stoop and step into the rain.
It was hardly midnight, and yet it felt as if an entire year had passed. The courtyard was pitch-black, the rain striking my cheeks and shoulders like invisible pins. But even the water soaking through my dress couldn’t wake me from my numbness.
I’d just pushed open the door of the main gate when someone caught my hand, forcing me to halt.
I turned, recognizing the feel of Ren’s fingers against mine. His skin was warmer than it’d ever been, almost hot compared to how it’d felt before receiving Baba’s qi.
“Where are you going?” he asked. Even in the darkness, I could guess the expression on his face. When not hiding behind a carefree mask, he was always so easy to read.
“To the town cemetery,” I said, the answer obvious to me. “I must leave a message with the caretaker, so he can prepare a grave for my father.”
“You—” Ren made a disbelieving sound, his hold tightening. I noticed then that he was shivering, able to fully feel the cold again. “It’s the middle of the night, Siying. And it’s raining. Can’t it wait until morning? I know you’re in shock, but you can’t leave right now. Your sister needs you—”
“I know what she needs,” I interrupted. “But I can’t help her until my father’s matters are taken care of. The sooner we complete the burial rites, the sooner she can heal.”
“How are you so calm?”
I laughed sharply. “What, then? Do you want me to scream and wail and curse the gods?”
He pulled me closer, away from the door, his other hand cupping my cheek. An hour ago, his touch might’ve made me shiver with want. Now I felt nothing.
Speaking softly, he said, “It’s all right to mourn.”
“I don’t need to.”
He sighed. “Siying, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” I stepped back, my skin chilling without his warmth. “I don’t want to hear your apologies and excuses. I don’t want to think about you at all. My father is dead, Ren, and the only thing I can do for him is the one thing I’m good at. So, please, let me take care of it my way.”
“You’ll fall ill if you walk down that hill in this rain,” Ren pressed. “At least wait until the storm has stopped.”
I spun to face the gate again. “Stay with my sister.”
He dashed in front of me and yanked the door shut. “Punish me all you want,” he said. “I deserve it. But don’t throw away your own health.”
“Why would I punish you?” I stared straight ahead. “It’s my own fault for leaving you two together. You’re both liars. My father lied when he said he’d save himself. And you—”
When I didn’t finish my sentence, Ren quietly said, “When did I lie to you?”
I’d put every effort into not breaking. I’d been content to live in the numbness, so I wouldn’t have to feel the destructive wrath of my own emotions. But in front of this boy, whom I should despise most, the walls around my mind shattered.
The words shot forth like knives I’d been honing for years.
“You told me you trusted me!” I cried. “But in the end, you didn’t.
I warned you against Liqin. I warned that he was plotting against you.
But did you listen? Did you even stop to think that your life might not be the only one at stake?
Of course not! Because you’re Prince Renshu, the younger son with no claim to the throne.
Heaven forbid you should have any responsibility in the lives of this state or a choice in who runs it! ”
“I made a mistake,” he said, voice strained. “I know I did. If I could go back and change things—”
“It’s too late,” I snapped. “Liqin won, and perhaps he even deserves it.”
Ren flinched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he certainly knows what to do with power, doesn’t he?
” I swiped the rainwater from my eyes, finding Ren’s silhouette in the dark.
“Do you know why you’re so reluctant to be king, Ren?
It’s not because you believed Liqin would be the better ruler.
It’s because you’re a coward. You’re so afraid of failing, you’d rather not try at all. ”
His silence was all the admission I needed.
“We’ve both made our decisions,” I continued, maneuvering around him to shove the door open again. “You wanted freedom that much? You now have it. Live that careless, unrestrained life you so desired. Keep the money you offered me and do with it as you will. I no longer have use of it.”
“And what will you do?” he asked dully.
I smiled in the darkness. “I’ll carry out my duty, as I’ve always done. Goodbye, Your Highness. I hope we never meet again.”
This time, when I strode through the gate, he didn’t stop me. The door swung slowly shut as I started down the stone steps, the rain in my wake weeping the tears I wouldn’t shed.
Ren was gone when I returned. I ignored the ache in my chest and tried to convince myself that it was good that he’d left. He’d live the life he’d said he wanted while I did exactly as I’d promised—fulfill my duty to my family.
After meeting with the caretaker, my restlessness only grew. I couldn’t sit or sleep or stay still at my father’s side, too barraged by grief. I needed to be on my feet, make use of my hands, do something.
I realized my father’s burial rites wouldn’t be enough.
He was owed so much more.
Liqin had stolen his life, as well as the lives of many others.
The people the crown had sworn to protect—he’d trampled them beneath his feet, all to build his own power.
For years, I’d ducked my head, keeping my eyes on my work and my family.
But I could no longer ignore the injustice before me.
I couldn’t stand aside and be the passive priestess Baba had always taught me to be.
Instead, I’d force the eldest prince—and the Sian monarchy itself—to pay for their crimes.
I left a note by Lilan’s bedside with instructions for the caregiver and the name of another priest in town.
Then I grabbed my staff and a shovel, and headed out again.
Shadows accompanied me as I hiked down the slope, crossed through the sleeping streets, and walked the road south of Baimu to reach the grave of traitors.
Without wasting time wavering at the perimeter, I marched into the center of the abandoned meadow, my boots squelching in the mud.
The rain had finally weakened into a drizzle, enough to see the ground lit by the glow of my lantern.
My instincts shuddered to be so close to the resting place of these wronged men.
Echoes of battle cries and sobs whispered past my ears.
Though I detected no physical apparition, I could feel their anger and hurt as intensely as if they were chains around my body.
But their rage couldn’t harm me. Not when it mirrored mine.
Shaking off my unease, I set down my lantern and grabbed the spade with both hands, ignoring the dull pain in my wrist. Then I slammed its tip into the earth.
“Jie!”
I jolted, grip slipping from the handle. My head snapped up to see Lilan standing on the edge of the field, her face illuminated by the lantern in her hand. Even from a distance, I could gauge the distress in her deer-wide eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded when she started toward me.
“I followed you,” she said, scowling at the mud that sucked at her soles. “I was worried.”
“There’s no need to worry.” My voice came out cool as I turned back to the shovel and pushed the blade with my foot. “You should return home, mei. This is a gruesome place.”
“But why are you here? Why are you digging up these graves?”
I tossed a chunk of dirt to one side. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It is my concern if this has anything to do with Baba!”
I paused again and looked up. I’d never seen Lilan lose her temper before, especially not with me.
But I realized then that I hadn’t truly seen my sister in years.
Gone was the timid, obedient girl who easily acquiesced to my orders.
In her place was a grieving young woman who’d grown up without a mother or sister to guide her.
While I batted away the guilt buzzing by my ear, Lilan continued. “Baba died, and here you are unearthing graves in the middle of the night. You left me all alone in that house with Baba’s lifeless body lying just two doors down. And you haven’t even asked how I’m doing.”
“I don’t need to ask,” I said. “I know what you’re feeling, and I’m sorry—”