Chapter 7
7
That night I dreamt again.
I flew fast, pleading for something, anything, to help my gnawing hunger, the pain of which was ripping me apart from the inside.
I wanted it to stop. I would do anything.
I beat my wings, soaring through the night sky, swooping over thatched roofs and the tops of palm trees, searching, hunting.
I crested another roof and came upon a row of merchant houses. I stopped to rest on a chimney and sensed a heartbeat. No—two.
In the warm light pouring off their house was a couple standing together under a palm tree, tending to their goats. While their herd grazed, the goats’ cries bleating into the night, the couple kissed. They were both young, a man and a woman, too distracted by each other to notice me. The woman’s red hair cascaded down her back, and the man’s bright blue curls blew in the sea salt breeze as he held her hands so gently, tenderly tracing his thumbs over her delicate skin. The woman leaned into him, melting with bliss.
Young love.
But something inside me snapped, and jealousy, hot and acidic, exploded in my chest. My hands squeezed the chimney, snapping the stone. My mouth watered, fangs dripping, tongue lolling out.
My red sight beat with their hearts. How dare they love so freely? How dare they have it when I didn’t? How dare they flaunt it? My pain spilled out, and it turned into a scream.
The couple looked up at me, terrified.
I leapt down from the roof and pounced.
“No!” I heard myself cry. But my voice was distant. “Stop!”
I blinked, and I was covered in gore. There were no bodies left, nothing recognizable. The air smelled of iron and salt. I dug my hands— claws —into a rib cage, and bones cracked. Warm blood soaked my hands like gloves. I was dressed in it. I wore it like a veil. Blood ran down my chin, down my throat, as I bit into flesh, and the pain went away.
Heart, liver, and stomach were the tastiest.
I jerked awake with a strangled cry. I was back in my room.
I threw the covers off myself and put my hands to my face, expecting to feel the slick, warm blood from my dream, but my skin was clean. My white nightgown was spotless. I was drenched in sweat, but there was no sign of any blood. I’d…I’d killed those people. Of course, it had only been a nightmare, but the way my hands broke bones—it had felt so real. A shudder rushed down my spine. The stress from dealing with Qian was taking its toll on me.
The curtains were still drawn, but I could tell it was already morning. A fierce storm rattled the windows. Thunder rolled overhead, and wind howled against the glass. It sounded just like my monstrous cry…My hands shook as I rubbed my eyes, trying to ease my mind.
What was wrong with me? It was like some wild thing had punctured its claws into my skin and refused to let go. But it was just a nightmare. It was silly to be bothered by something like this.
And yet the remnants of the nightmare clung to me like oil even as Jinky swept into the room with breakfast and dressed me for the day.
I wasn’t hungry, even for tapsilog—plates heaping full of beef, garlic rice, and fried egg—with sweet puddings and cakes for dessert. Nausea threatened to make me puke, and I nudged the garlic rice away. I didn’t want any of it.
“Are you feeling all right?” Jinky asked me. It was unusual that I’d turn down breakfast.
“I’m just anxious, that’s all,” I said. “Talking with Qian is proving more difficult than I thought.” I massaged my stomach and sipped some water.
Jinky was a mountain spirit with pale moss-green skin, but her cheeks turned a shade of blue when she blushed, which she did now. “He’s certainly dreamy, if I may say so.”
“You’re reading those romance novels again, aren’t you?” I said with a teasing smile. It helped ease my stomachache. I’d managed to get my hands on some swoon-worthy reads from the human world for her after she’d shown an interest in books Nix and I had been reading one day.
“No!” Jinky squeaked. Then she realized she was lying to the queen, because her blush deepened, which made me smile more. “I mean…Maybe. He does have a certain quality that is quite appealing.”
I took another sip of water. “Good looks aren’t everything.”
“I suppose not,” Jinky said, a little deflated. “Though his devotion to his sister is charming. He cares deeply for the ones he loves, doesn’t he?”
“I’ll give him that much.” To his credit, it was a good quality. I wouldn’t think highly of someone who didn’t care about their family.
“Will you speak with him more again today?” Jinky asked. She started brushing my hair to put it into elaborate braids.
“I have to, for Nix’s sake. Though I’m not sure what else I can do. We’re both stubborn.”
Jinky sighed thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“What would your romance heroines do in my position?”
Jinky looked taken aback. “Truly?”
“I’m looking for any help I can get at this point.”
After thinking for a moment and pursing her lips, Jinky said, “I suppose they would spend alone time together someplace romantic, someplace remote, where they could open their hearts to each other…” Her voice got breathy as her gaze grew distant, dreamily staring into nothing, the brush hovering above my head. She snapped herself out of her daydream and continued doing my hair. “Though simply having a change of scenery would do the trick. A getaway.”
“A getaway…” I remembered Elias mentioning Mount Makiling, the place where my ancestors used to make treaties with neighboring kingdoms, earlier. An idea started to form. “I could bring Qian to the jungle retreat in Mount Makiling, show him how guests are treated, prove to him that Nix is safe here, and convince him that she doesn’t need to be married off. It worked for my great-grandmother, so why shouldn’t it for me?”
“That sounds like a grand plan,” Jinky said. “Though in the novels, they fall in love at the end. You may be getting more than you asked for.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not going to happen. I am done with love.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jinky said with a small smile.
After Jinky was satisfied with me—outfitting me in a floor-length plum-colored baro’t saya with narrow sleeves cinched with silver bangles, complete with delicate orange flowers in my hair—I went to the guest wing to pass along the details of my plan. But when I knocked, Heng answered the door, frowning at me as if I were interrupting his day.
“I would like to speak with Qian,” I said. Then I corrected myself. “I demand to speak with Qian.” I had to stop asking for permission to do things. I was a queen and needed to start acting like it, confident and commanding. I straightened my shoulders to strengthen my words. Heng looked me over, eyes narrowed.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Heng’s voice was low but flat, and he stepped aside, letting me through.
The guest rooms were some of our more practical spaces. They were often used for visiting delegates from neighboring regions, intended as a place where guests would mostly sleep and not spend a lot of waking time. There was the standard four-poster bed; a large bamboo mat with pillows on top, used for resting; and open doors leading to a balcony overlooking the garden. The sky was a flat gray, churning with the storm, and rain pattered against the glass, throwing the candlelight of the room into a cozy haze of safety. The remnants of Qian’s breakfast had yet to be cleared away from the center table, but his clothes had been laid out for him, neatly pressed and hanging on the privacy screen.
But there was no sign of Qian from what I could tell, and when I was about to ask Heng where he was, the door to the en suite bathroom opened, and Qian stepped out, shirtless. He patted his face dry, then noticed me over the plush white towel. He froze for a moment, and then he smiled.
My eyes landed on his toned abs, his narrow waist, and the three jagged lines of scars running across his side. They looked like…claw marks. Heat immediately rose on my cheeks. I spun around, allowing him some dignity, and clasped my hands in front of me, trying not to wring them. I wasn’t used to seeing half-naked princes in my immediate presence.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Qian said, a note of amusement trailing on his words.
“Good morning,” I replied stiffly.
“What brings you to me so early? If I’d known you were coming, I would have made myself decent.”
“Heng let me in.”
Qian let out a huff of a laugh. “His idea of a joke, I would imagine.”
“I don’t find it particularly funny.”
“It was not at your expense, I’m sure, but mine.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was stuck there. My heart beat so loud in my ears, I was absolutely sure Qian could hear it.
“Did it frighten you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Seeing my scars.”
“No,” I said. “I…It wasn’t that.”
“Most people are frightened.”
I risked a glance over my shoulder, but Qian was still shirtless. He picked a grape off his breakfast plate, and I averted my gaze once more. “I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not. And you don’t have to look away for my sake.”
I bit my lip and willed myself to get it together before I slowly turned around. The initial peek I’d had didn’t show the whole picture. I’d been so distracted by his abs, I’d almost missed all the other scars. Some smaller ones across his arms, faded with time, and some larger ones, but the claw marks on his side and shoulder were the worst. The scars were pink and defined. If I had to guess, he was lucky to have survived them.
“I have nothing to be ashamed about,” he said. “They’re part of me.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Monsters,” he said, and my eyes widened. “I have seen up close and personal just how dangerous they can really be. I like to think of my scars as badges of honor. This one”—he pointed to the pink flesh on his side—“was from an Aoyin, this great beast with sharp claws and a long tongue. It feeds on human brains.”
My jaw dropped. I’d never heard of such a thing.
“And this one”—he pointed to the slash on his shoulder, which I realized now looked like a burn—“was from a jiangshi, a reanimated corpse that sucks the yang energy out of the living.” He pointed to various other scars on his body, recalling injuries he’d sustained from other creatures I’d heard of, like a dragon and a Minotaur. He remembered every mark on his body.
“You’ve been all over the world?”
“You thought I’d help only Jade Mountain? Wherever there are monsters, I am there, too.”
“You killed them?”
“To their credit, they tried to kill me first,” he said, with a roguish smile. “Silver usually does the trick, though.”
“Silver?”
Qian went to the door, where a quiver of arrows was propped up against the wall. He plucked one out, showing the silver tip of the arrowhead. I remembered the rest of his men having a similar arsenal. Were they all one monster-fighting team? “I never go anywhere without them,” said Qian.
“Why?”
A flash of pain darted across Qian’s face, and heat rushed to mine.
“I’m sorry—” I started to say, but he shook his head and lifted a hand.
“Someone very close to me died at the hands of a monster.”
It felt as if I’d drunk an entire tub full of ice water.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. I could tell it was a sensitive subject, and he didn’t expand on it.
Qian nodded once and then put the arrow back. He cleared his throat and mercifully changed the subject. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this…rainy day?” He gestured out the window at the rainstorm and moved to his privacy screen to put on his clothes.
It took me a second to find the words. I felt unmoored. “I would like for you to join me on a retreat.” I could hear him moving behind the screen, sliding the hanger off the rack, and shuffling fabric as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“A retreat? For what occasion?”
“I have a vacation home in the mountains, Mount Makiling, a place where many peace agreements were forged. I would like to use it as an opportunity to extend a measure of good faith and to see if we can come to an agreement that both of us will find acceptable.” I tried to sound diplomatic, but the heat never left my cheeks. Why he made me feel this way was baffling for a number of reasons. I had to remind myself that this was Nix’s older brother. It would be crossing a dozen lines of our friendship if I even so much as looked at him in any kind of way that wasn’t purely platonic.
“A vacation home,” he repeated. He poked his head out from behind the screen. “This is certainly not how I expected events to unfold when finding my sister.”
“You would be staying as our guests, you and your men.”
“And Nix?”
“I haven’t asked her yet, but…I’m sure she’ll be in attendance.”
“Not that I’m in the habit of declining a much-desired vacation, but this palace isn’t suitable enough for our needs?”
When he stepped out from the privacy screen, Qian was fully dressed. His tunic shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing a hint of pale skin on his chest, and my eyes flicked to it against my will before I forced them back to his eyes. He noticed, of course, but didn’t move to cover himself or make any mention of it. Instead, he smiled at me.
“I’d like to clear the air between us,” I said. “I thought we started off on the wrong foot. If we went someplace else, we could begin again. Better this time.”
Qian ran his fingers through his wet hair, combing it back from his face, but his hair stubbornly flopped down the middle once more. It was a small, endearing quality that I couldn’t help but notice.
“I believe you’re right,” he said. “We have started off on the wrong foot.” The healers had done a good job returning his nose to normal, but it still didn’t diminish the fact that I’d broken it in the first place. Our meeting had been less than stellar, but now I felt like we were seeing eye to eye. That had to be a good sign.
“I think your idea sounds…appropriate, given the circumstances,” Qian said. “It would be a step in the right direction. When would you like to depart?”
“As soon as possible. Perhaps after the storm clears. Unless you would like some time to prepare?”
Qian jutted out his lower lip and looked around the room. He hadn’t brought any personal effects for an extended journey, so there wasn’t much by way of packing, and I thought he was amused by that fact, too. “I think I’ll be able to get ready by then.”
“Good.” I spun around and headed to the door. “I look forward to our journey.”
“Me too, MJ.”
I opened my mouth, automatically ready to ask him to call me by my full name, but thought better of it. This would be the second time he’d used my nickname, and I found that I didn’t mind the way he said it. I closed my mouth, tipped my head, and took my leave.
His smile stuck with me even when I left his room, but the moment I closed the door, I was intercepted by a frantic-looking Ayo.
“Your Majesty,” he said, gasping for air. He looked like he’d sprinted all the way here. “You must come at once.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“There’s been an attack.”