Chapter 28 Yue
Her presence is oddly calming.
We walk in silence, save for Sonam’s occasional direction.
Our exhaustion translates into a general air of bitterness.
Were it not for Kelai’s map, our last shreds of hope would have faded ages ago.
The burns on Sonam’s hand heal as we walk, the guiding line erasing itself as we make progress through the wide passage of yet another empty gardenscape.
Any semblance of awe I had for the Jade Palace has long since left me.
“I need a break,” Wen complains.
Sonam grunts his agreement. As do I. None of us have the energy to carry full sentences.
Sooah helps herself to a jade bench while I look around the garden.
There are no plants whatsoever, only a collection of tall statues carved with incredible detail.
There are twelve of them in total, arranged in a perfect circle, all facing inward.
A similar arrangement can be found at the corner of Sonam’s palm, just above his wrist bone, in the form of heat blisters.
I inspect the carvings carefully, noticing that each statue represents a different animal.
A rat, an ox, a tiger, a rabbit, a dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog, and boar. I’m particularly intrigued by the dragon. Its lifelike eyes seem to follow me as I walk around the circle, its lips pulled back into a fearsome snarl.
“It’s a calendar,” Sonam explains.
I jump slightly at the sound of his voice. Everything here in Hell has me on edge. I’m afraid the concept is completely foreign to me. “A what?”
“It’s how humans keep track of the years.”
I arch a brow. “By using… animals?”
Sonam laughs softly, standing at my side as we study the dragon statue together.
It’s a sound I’ve never heard him make before.
Light and easy, as though we’re out for a perfectly normal stroll through the palace gardens, not a single horror in sight.
“It’s an old story among my people. A fairytale. ”
When I continue to look at him expectantly, he begins.
“Many millennia ago, the Jade Emperor, ruler of the Heavens, wanted to keep better track of the days, moons, and years. He invited all of the world’s earthly creatures to a race for the chance to join the twelve-year cycle he’d devised.
The rat, knowing that he was far smaller and would therefore be slower, persuaded the ox to carry him across the river.
When they arrived upon the opposite bank, he jumped off first and won the race, earning his spot at the beginning of the calendar.
The ox, rather begrudgingly, came in second.
“The tiger and the rabbit came one after the other, the latter of whom kept a safe distance behind his friend’s sharp teeth.
The noble red dragon of the east was the fifth to arrive despite his ability to soar through the skies, having stopped to help a few villagers in need.
Sixth was the snake, and then the horse not long after.
Then came the goat, the monkey, and the rooster on a raft built of lotus petals.
The dog unfortunately found himself distracted, wasting most of the race playing in the river, though he managed to arrive just before the boar, who slept the day away before finally waking hours later, finishing off the race. ”
I find myself smiling, thoroughly enjoying the captain’s tale. “Do you think the fox was invited, too?”
His smile grows wider, eyes crinkling as he does.
It leaves me breathless. “It’s possible.
Jun was the one who told me the story. He said that there were versions where the cat was invited, as well, but the rat tricked him and said the race was, in fact, the day after.
If I had to venture a guess, I’d say the fox was too clever to be tricked into working for someone else. Without proper reward, at least.”
I reflect his smile, amused. “That sounds about right.”
I don’t know what to make of it when he lingers, his gaze drifting over the details of my mask.
It’s strange, having him so close. My heart beats faster when he’s near, surely because of my more primal instincts to hunt and kill.
That must be it. There’s no other way to explain why, when he slowly reaches down to take my hands in his, the voice in the back of my head screams at me to flee.
Sonam inspects my bloodied nails, carefully running the pad of his thumb over the tip of my index.
It isn’t enough pressure to hurt. In fact, there’s no pressure at all; a mere ghost of a touch.
Neither of us breathe. I’m wound up tight, though I’m unsure whether I want to run or give in to his peculiar gravity.
“Are you in pain?” he whispers, almost as if he doesn’t trust his voice to carry the question.
My lips part as I suck in a shaky breath. “A little. But you don’t have to worry about me.”
Sonam looks like he wants to argue, but before he has a chance, I take his hands in turn and study the burn lines of Kelai’s map.
I gently trace the path she’s laid out before us, less concerned with our destination than I am the red swelling of his skin.
His palms are calloused and rough, his long fingers easily, but almost bashfully, knitting with mine.
“Are you in any pain?” I murmur back. I’m worried that if I speak too loudly, too quickly—too brashly, as is my nature—I might shatter this delightfully warm haze that’s fallen between us.
In this rare moment of tranquility, this little slice of Hell, I indulge myself in the finer details of his face.
I’ve never noticed the tiny scar running diagonally along his left temple to the innermost corner of his ear.
The skin has faded to a light silver, barely perceptible to a passerby’s glance.
I can appreciate the strong, high bridge of his nose and the seemingly permanent slant of his ever-serious brows.
I’ll admit there’s something intriguing about the firmness of his lips.
Now that I know they’re capable of the gargantuan task of smiling, a part of me is eager to see it again.
Out of general curiosity, of course. Nothing more.
“What other silly human stories do you know?” I ask.
“Only a few,” he confesses. “ ‘The Legend of the White Snake.’ Or perhaps ‘The Butterfly Lovers.’ Or maybe you’ve heard of ‘The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl’?”
I scrunch my nose, trying to recall the little snippets I’d overhear when I stalked the streets of Longhao.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard the tales in their entirety, too concerned about being caught to stay in one place for too long.
Frankly, most human stories sound the same—what with their beginnings, middles, and ends.
All highly predictable, though there’s admittedly something comforting about their structure.
“Those are all love stories,” I say.
“Not to your taste?”
“I just wouldn’t expect someone like you to enjoy romantic tales.”
“Someone like me?” he echoes, the corner of his lip ticking up into a grin.
I shrug. “No-nonsense. Tough. Brave.”
Sonam’s grin stretches into a full smile. I am both mesmerized and horrified by it. I don’t understand the skip of my heart or the unease gripping my throat. The only explanation I can muster is that I must be falling ill.
“You think I’m brave?”
“More than most humans, I’ll give you that. But what you have in bravery, you sorely lack in humor.”
“But Wen tells me I’m the funniest man he knows.”
I can’t help but snort. “He’s obviously trying to spare your feelings.”
“Very likely,” he muses, still inspecting my hands. He holds me gently, as though he’s happened upon a baby bird with clipped wings. I… don’t mind it.
“So why does a man like you know so many love stories?” I ask, a warm haze blanketing my thoughts.
Sonam shrugs slightly, contemplatively tracing my knuckles with his thumb. “All stories are love stories, if you think about it.”
“What about tales of war?” I challenge skeptically.
“Fought for love of land and family.”
“Tales of murder?”
“Crimes stemmed from passion.”
“And tales of revenge?”
Sonam looks deeply into my eyes. I cannot for the life of me begin to read them. “Revenge is only born when you or your loved ones have been wronged. We seek justice for them—our friends, our family, who we once were—no matter the cost, because—”
“Because we loved them,” I finish quietly.
Wen clears his throat behind us. I withdraw my hand from Sonam’s as if his is made of molten iron.
“What?” the captain and I snap in unison. Sonam’s face is as bright and red as a bride’s wedding dress. Judging by the heat emanating from my cheeks, I’m no better off.
“I wanted a moment with the—with Yue,” Wen corrects himself. “If you don’t mind.”
I squint at him suspiciously. As a matter of fact, I mind a great deal, but for the sake of peace, I give Sonam a tight nod. He walks off and joins Sooah on the other side of the statue garden. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I wait for Wen to speak.
“I wanted to thank you,” he says, avoiding my gaze.
“What for?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath and shifts his weight from foot to foot.
I don’t understand the delay. Wen was the one who wanted to talk.
“For saving me,” he answers, speaking so quickly that his words run together.
“If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, I’d probably have been crushed by those walls. You didn’t have to come back for me.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
My mouth opens only to close again, an explanation eluding even me. There’s no logical answer. It would have been so easy to let him die. Yet another casualty of Hell. And one less human to worry about. Fewer moving parts, fewer annoyances—especially where Wen is concerned.
“Because being crushed to death is a terrible way to go,” I answer honestly. And then, after a deep breath, “And no one deserves that. Not even you.”
I’m keenly aware of how his body language changes, melting into something slightly more comfortable. There’s a flash behind his eyes. Not admiration—I wouldn’t expect that of him—but there’s an undeniable inkling of respect.
“Well, I guess I owe you,” Wen mumbles. “If you hadn’t saved me, I would’ve left my wife and kids all by their lonesome.”
I gape. “You have spawn?”
“Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Yes.”
Wen sighs, hands on hips. “Sooah says the same thing. ‘Really lucked out.’ ”
“Because your wife agreed?”
“ ’Cause the man she was supposed to marry disappeared the day before the wedding.
” He shakes his head. “Ling and I were best mates since we were tots. I’ve loved her since forever.
And she, me. Problem was I come from nothing.
Piss-poor family. A few crooks in my line, you see.
There wasn’t any hope of her parents giving me their blessing.
So they wanted to marry her off to some wealthy bastard.
A jewel merchant. He could probably take care of her alright, but there were rumors. ”
I lean in, intrigued by his story. “What rumors?”
Wen’s face darkens. “Word around the teahouse was that he was a mean drunk, and just as mean sober. The type to talk with his fists. Ling would’ve been his second wife.”
“Do I dare ask what happened to the first?”
He kicks at a loose pebble next to his shoe.
“Authorities found her dead in the canal a few moons before he and Ling were arranged. Shrugged it off as an accident. Reckoned she must’ve slipped and drowned.
But I happened to be passing by when they fished her out of the water.
” Wen looks me directly in the eye, so stone-cold and serious it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Drowning don’t leave bruises like that. ”
“What wound up happening to this merchant?” I ask.
“Haven’t the faintest,” Wen admits. “Ling asked me to run away with her right before the wedding. It would’ve been easy to load up the carriage and make off, but then the news broke.
The merchant went missing overnight. Not a trace left, except for one of his silver rings.
Ling wasn’t too heartbroken about it, if you can imagine, but… ”
“They suspected you,” I say knowingly.
“Course they did. Wasn’t exactly a secret that I was willing to do anything for her. They would’ve had my head, were it not for the captain.”
“What does the captain have to do with any of this?”
“He’d been chasing after something. A demon known for prowling our little corner of Longhao.
He vouched for my innocence and saved my neck.
Helped me prove I was out drinking away my sorrows at the teahouse.
Got into a fight that night. It’s how I wound up with this.
” Wen holds up his right hand, displaying the slight tremor he carries with him.
“Broke my arm in four places. Doctor didn’t set it right. ”
“Why would you choose the bow, of all things?”
“Not strong enough to lift a sword. Can’t fight with my fists. The cap’n knew I’d have trouble finding work after, so he asked me to join him. Had me practicing day in and day out. I ain’t that bad of a shot.”
“He did the same thing for Sooah,” I realize with a light laugh. “Always playing hero.”
“Not playing,” Wen says sternly. “I owe the cap’n a debt. If he hadn’t come along… I made an oath to him that day. He protected my life, so I’ll protect his.”
I’m silent for a moment, allowing Wen’s words to sink in. There’s something endearing about the concept of human loyalty. Wen could have easily thanked Sonam for his kindness and been done with it. Why he feels the need to go above and beyond baffles me, in fact.
But it’s surprisingly nice, how they’ve banded together. A banished prince, a pauper, and a servant girl. Such an unlikely trio. Throw me into the mix, and I could be their rabid pet.
I quickly push the thought away. How ridiculous.
Once we leave this place, that’s it. I don’t suspect we’ll remain in each other’s company.
We’ll write this whole experience off as the terrible misadventure it was.
I’ll run back to the jungle until the next time I need to feed, and Sonam, Wen, and Sooah will return to their sport of hunting me down. It’s the natural order of things.
I glance at Sonam over my shoulder, and an awful tightness burdens my chest. What a shame. I think I’ve rather come to tolerate him.
“I would ask something of you,” I say quietly.
Wen frowns, mildly suspicious. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath and sigh. “That captain of yours is too noble for his own good. When the time comes, and I’m sure it will—don’t let him do anything foolish.”
He nods. “That was always the plan.”