Chapter 2
Daiyu trudged through the streets of the capital, her breath ragged and her feet aching from the travel. Normally, it took two days of horse-riding to reach it, three on a wagon with many breaks. On foot? Almost a week and a half for Daiyu. Tired was an understatement; she was exhausted, sweaty, and her feet were killing her.
Convincing her parents to let her go had been nearly impossible, and her brothers had said they would come with her too, but Daiyu couldn’t let that happen. They were needed on their small farm, and anyone other than Daiyu going would mean less money and more financial burdens. It only made sense that Daiyu would be the one sneaking into the palace to rescue her sister.
How, though? She had absolutely no idea.
Now that she was here, in the dense streets of the capital, with people milling about around her, with the smell of woodsmoke, baked goods, and sweat pervading the sticky summer air, she was lost. She walked and walked, with only a handful of coins in her satchel, one outfit, and a few strips of dried fruit. She could see the looming palace, but the more she racked her mind on how to sneak in, the more she drew a blank.
The palace was heavily guarded, that much she could surmise. And the guards were likely just as vicious as the emperor, so she had to have a solid excuse to slip inside—if she even got that far.
Maybe she could find employment inside the palace as an excuse to go inside? She doubted it would be easy sneaking in, and now that she was actually in the capital, her confidence waned.
What could she do?
Daiyu wove through the streets, keeping a watchful eye on the tall stone walls surrounding the palace that scraped toward the skies and the palace guards stationed near the ornate metal gates. She trudged to one side of the palace walls and continued along it. She made sure to keep her distance so no one would notice her inspecting it.
After twenty minutes of studying the walls, she came to three conclusions: there was more than one entrance, each were heavily guarded, and there was no way she could creep inside. The walls were too high to scale, and if she was caught, she’d be killed on suspicions of either being a spy, an assassin, or simply for breaching the palace.
Finally, when she couldn’t think of anything to do, she straightened out her clothes, smoothed down her hair, and approached one of the guards.
“Excuse me—” She smiled politely at the young man.
He peered down at her with mistrusting, dark eyes. “Yes?”
“I’ve actually been recently hired as one of the kitchen helpers?—”
“Your badge?”
“That’s the thing”—her brows crinkled—“I … don’t know where I placed it.”
“You lost it?” His eyes narrowed further. “So you’re saying that anyone can enter the palace now with your lost badge? Is that correct?”
“Um, no,” Daiyu quickly said. “How can anyone enter with you all guarding the palace? Surely, you’ve seen everyone’s faces before, and you’ve seen me before too, haven’t you?”
He tilted his head to better stare at her. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’ve told you. I’ve recently been hired?—”
“If you’ve got no badge or no other forms of identification, then leave.”
“But—”
“Leave.” He glared at her, and the sunlight glinted off his steel helmet sinisterly as if the heavens were agreeing with him.
Daiyu pursed her lips together and scrambled away from the entrance. That didn’t go well at all. If she had stayed and talked to him any longer, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he decided to skewer her with his spear. Maybe she could try again later? Or maybe …
Her mind became mush as she walked alongside the wall. She leaned her shoulder against it and wanted to slide down to the ground. Her feet were killing her and the constant walking back and forth, along with the tiring journey, made her bone-weary. Tears of frustration stung her eyes, but she refused to cry here, in the middle of the streets, in front of this insufferable palace.
Lanfen was trapped somewhere within these walls. There had to be something Daiyu could do.
“What are you doing?”
Daiyu spun around to find a man towering over her. He must’ve been at least a foot and a half taller than her. Satiny green and silver robes fluttered around the man, carrying the wind and the smell of cherry blossoms. A black and red dragon mask covered his face, and his long, midnight-colored hair trailed over his shoulders in silken streaks. He wore no weapons, and the royal insignia of a dragon was embroidered on the front of his long tunic.
The clothes gave him away—the green and silver robes meant he was one of the royal mages.
Daiyu’s mouth dried up and she backed away, fear and panic engulfing her. A royal mage was said to be one of the strongest people in the empire. They wielded magic and could decimate cities in seconds, could warp to different locations with a snap of the finger, and could cause fire and water to erupt from their bodies at will—or so the rumors went. She had never met one before, nor seen their capabilities.
Until now.
Daiyu stared bug-eyed at the masked man. Words failed her, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
The man canted his head to the side. “Miss? Are you all right?”
“I-I—” A thousand deaths flashed before her eyes. Would this man kill her? Did he think she was suspicious? Why was he approaching her?
The man raised his hands and spoke slowly. “Are you all right? Breathe.”
“I’m fine, just passing along.” Daiyu backed away and stumbled over her own feet.
The man reached out and steadied her by grabbing her elbow, but Daiyu shoved his hand away hastily as if his touch burned her. “Sorry, sorry.” He raised his hands. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”
“I’m not spooked.” She tried smiling, but it came out forced and she was sure it looked more like a grimace. “I was just passing by, sir. Please, let me go.”
“I’m not holding you hostage.” Another head tilt.
“Um.” Daiyu licked her suddenly dry lips. The summer sun beat down on her and she wasn’t sure what was making her sweat more: this mage or the sweltering heat. “That you aren’t, sir. Um, so I suppose I’ll get to”—she motioned to the streets of the capital—“where I need to go, yes?”
“You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”
“You’re mistaken.” She nodded and backed away. “Well, now, it’s been a pleasure?—”
“Miss, why have you been circling the royal palace five times?”
Daiyu’s heart stopped. “What?”
“You’ve been circling the palace several times.” He inched closer even as she continued to shrink away. “It’s highly suspicious. Usually, people will only do that when … say, they’re trying to figure out how to break inside. Whether that be for spying, assassinating, or stealing. You don’t look like a spy, or an assassin, or a thief … So that makes me curious. What are you doing?”
Her back hit the wall and she was completely cornered by the masked mage, who now crossed his lean arms over his chest. A warm breeze settled between them, rustling his fine robes and her raggedy ones.
“Well, miss?” His voice was soft, velvety, and carried a hint of authority.
Daiyu scrambled for an answer, but her mind was blank. What could she say to him that wouldn’t sound suspicious? Maybe that she was lost? That she was looking for something? That he was mistaken?
“I, um, I …” Her small voice filled the void between them, and he waited, the red dragon eyes of his mask seeming to glow like the sun.
She stared down at her sandaled feet, at the fraying ends of her skirt, and at the cobbled streets they stood on. At the way that even his leather boots appeared sinister and powerful—a single kick could cave her skull in. She shivered, despite the summer heat.
Think, she told herself. Think.
“You must be mistaken,” she finally squeaked.
Neither of them spoke. She stared up at him—at his dragon mask with its curling horns at the temples and mouth, and he continued to stare at her through the eye slits of the mask. Unimaginably black eyes peered at her.
“You …” He slanted his head again, and if she weren’t so panic-stricken, she might have asked him why he kept doing that. “You think I’m mistaken?”
“Yes.” Daiyu couldn’t think, not when she was in front of this powerful mage. It was a stupid, stupid lie that nobody would ever believe. She knew that, but it was better than stammering nothing, which was even more suspicious.
“Ah.” He bobbed his head. “So I’m mistaken. You weren’t suspiciously loitering around the palace, circumnavigating it, or appearing nervous when questioned about it.”
“That … that sounds about right.” Daiyu’s smile was wobbly as he stared at her unblinkingly.
“Hm.” He placed a hand above her head against the wall, and she further sank to the ground, wanting to disappear altogether. “So you’re not acting suspicious?”
“Correct, sir.” Daiyu tried to wiggle away, but he placed another hand near her shoulder so she was caged in. He was so close she could smell the hints of lilacs and leather and earth clinging to him. “Now, I’ll be going—” she began.
“Miss.” He leaned closer until she was staring into the black depths of his eyes. “You?—”
He was too close.
Daiyu pushed his chest, and it was like pushing against a solid wall of steel and muscle. “Get away from me,” she started, trying again. This time, he let her, and he stepped away. The warmth of his body left immediately, and she could feel her face flushing with warmth. “Sir, please keep your distance. I’m an unmarried woman and I do not appreciate being pushed against a wall like this. It’s improper and domineering. I’d appreciate if you’d take another step back and give me some space.”
He blinked, and she blinked, and they both seemed to realize she was speaking to a royal mage. But instead of incinerating her on the spot, or calling the palace guards, he only lowered his head slightly. A show of respect.
“I apologize, miss. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, nor push you out of your comfort zone.”
She huffed, her heart hammering in her chest. “Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t change that you’re acting suspicious and if I wanted to …” He held his hand out and sparks of white lightning buzzed at his fingertips, the snapping and crackle making her gasp sharply.
She stared, transfixed, at the flickering light as it transformed into an emerald shade, and then violet, before disappearing altogether. Burning smoke made her nose crinkle, but that wasn’t enough to stop her amazement.
Magic.
She had never seen it before and certainly not so close and personal. And definitely not laced with a threat.
“I told you—” Daiyu began weakly, her gaze darting to the passing people in the distance, away from the palace walls. She wanted to disappear into the throngs of people, away from his knowing eyes.
“Miss, please don’t insult my intelligence any further. What exactly are you doing here? You’re trying to enter the palace, but I can’t seem to understand why.” He rubbed the curling, sharp tooth of the dragon mask. “I don’t sense any hostility from you and you don’t have any weapons on you either. So it’s strange.”
She swallowed. He could read her? Was this another magic spell? Or perhaps he could tell by looking at her?
“I would never dream of hurting anyone inside the palace,” she whispered. “Trust me when I say that.”
“Then what are you doing here?” He raised his hand before she could answer, and she noticed the calluses and scars crisscrossing over his pale skin. “And don’t say any nonsense about how I’m mistaken. If it was anyone else in my position, you would already be in the palace dungeons for suspicious behavior. So speak cautiously and don’t test my patience any further.”
Daiyu clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t very well tell this man—one of the emperor’s palace mages—that she wanted to steal one of the emperor’s concubine candidates. But … But if she didn’t speak now, or come up with something believable, she would likely die.
The man waved his hand for her to speak when she continued stewing in her thoughts. “Well?”
“I …” The lies she meant to speak died on her tongue and her eyes stung with tears. “I’m here to rescue my sister,” she blurted out.
The man stilled. “Your sister? Did she commit a crime?”
“No, no.” Daiyu shook her head and breathed out shakily, trying to keep the tears at bay, even though they threatened to fall. “My sister was chosen as one of the emperor’s potential candidates for a concubine. You know, the royal selection. And … And I told the guard that I would take her place, but they said I’m too old—” She sniffed, hating that she sounded so weak. She didn’t want to cry in front of this stranger.
“Too old?” The man scoffed. “You don’t look a day over thirty!”
She gasped. “Excuse me? I’m twenty-four!”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Continue.”
“Well … My sister—” She wiped her eyes furiously and cast him a sharp glare. “Do I really look that old?”
“No, no, of course not.” His tone was light and she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “So what happened to your sister then?”
“The guards took her for the selection,” Daiyu breathed out. “I’m here to save her.”
“How are you saving her? Becoming a concubine for the emperor is one of the greatest opportunities a woman can get. Imagine if she’s chosen? She’ll have unimaginable wealth. Your family would never need to worry about finances. And what if she gives birth to an heir? Her status will rise, as will your family’s! I just don’t see why you’re treating it like a death sentence?”
Daiyu side-eyed the man, her attention lingering on the dragon insignia. Of course he would think that, being the emperor’s mage and all. But for normal people, Drakkon Muyang was a terrifying ruler. He could kill Lanfen if he wanted to. Not to mention his court was cutthroat; if not him, someone else could kill her, and no one would care for a royal concubine. Especially not one who came from such humble roots.
Women were just pretty things to be used and tossed aside in court, especially for a concubine with no noble family.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Daiyu finally settled with. “Lanfen isn’t meant for court life.”
The man clucked his tongue. “Well, perhaps I wouldn’t understand, but I must ask, how do you plan on doing such a thing? Sneaking inside the palace? Saving your sister? It all seems a bit ridiculous. And impossible, especially for a farm girl like yourself.”
Daiyu frowned, not liking his tone. “I’m more than just a farm—wait. How do you know I’m a farm girl?”
“I can smell it on you. The manure. The pig shit.” He shrugged. “I’m fairly certain everyone in the vicinity can smell?—”
Daiyu gasped, a blush staining her cheeks. “You’re joking! I do not smell.”
“You’re likely accustomed to the smell?—”
“I am not smelly.”
The man laughed softly. “Yes, I jest. I can tell you belong on a farm because your skin is tanned, your hands tell a life of hard work, and well, the most apparent indicator: I have magic, miss. The air around you tells me you work on a farm.”
Daiyu gave him a strange look; was that truly the work of magic, or was he messing with her again?
“Anyway, miss, you’re in luck.” The man held his hand out to her. “If you’d like, I can take you inside the palace.”
“Excuse me? Why would you help me?”
“I can’t turn away from a woman in distress.” Something twinkled in his black eyes. “I’m also very curious to see how you plan on rescuing your sister.”
Daiyu eyed his hand suspiciously. His reasoning wasn’t good enough for her to trust him so blindly, but he was the only sliver of hope she had of breaking into the place, so she nodded slowly. “I don’t understand why you want to help me, but I can’t say no to that.”
She placed her hand in his, and all at once, their surroundings blurred and the colors seemed to stretch out and wane in a split second. Before Daiyu could open her mouth to scream or shout or say something, everything snapped into place. She blinked and the city’s smells—briny fish, greasy food, and sweaty bodies—disappeared altogether. In its place was the potent scent of incense and jasmine. And instead of the tall buildings and shops, wooden, paneled walls and jade-speckled pillars surrounded them.
Daiyu inhaled sharply—breathlessly—and turned to the room. Through the window, she could make out the capital streets she had just been on. She rushed to the windowsill and leaned over, her mouth dropping at the sprawling city and the guarded palace walls.
Sure enough, she was inside the palace.