Page 23 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Sixteen

During the Yong Dynasty, lixia masters scoured the land in search of children with strong spirit affinity. Those found worthy were taken to an elite academy in the capital, where they underwent rigorous training in the art of summoning, their talents honed to serve the empire.

In my dreams, the earth cried out in suffering. Qi was depleted from the birds, the sky, the very air itself. Hungry spirits lurked at the edges of my vision, hiding just beyond the thinning veil. Slowly, a crack began to form.

Thunder echoed across the land. Always, my dreams ended right before the lightning struck, before the crack cleaved the veil in two.

I woke panting, my undergarments soaked with sweat, my palms streaked with dirt that had not been there the night before.

Whatever was happening, it did not concern me, I told myself.

The Spring Festival was fast approaching, and my plans were nearly complete.

“They’ve enacted a curfew on the city,” Lily announced.

As the reports of people succumbing to madness increased, security around the palace tightened.

“They’ve closed the gates leading out of Chuang Ning, so that no one can enter or leave the city.

Still, nothing seems to slow the spreading corruption. ”

Just that week, a scullery maid had allegedly begun behaving erratically. Another maid had noticed and reported her to the guards. But when they’d come for her, she’d somehow convinced them to kill themselves. Finally, a maid had struck her from behind with a frying pan, subduing her.

The string of murders had shaken the palace.

I needed to visit the spirit gates myself, to ascertain if Qinglong really was the one behind all of this.

But this concern was only one of many, and I had more pressing matters on my hands.

Prince Keyan had returned from Saiya yesterday and spent the evening locked up with Winter.

Meanwhile, Prince Yuchen was leaving the palace grounds every evening, and Caihong had informed me that the Imperial Commander’s health was increasingly in question.

“How precarious is his condition?” I’d asked Caihong, as we’d strolled through the winter gardens together.

“It is not my place to question the might of great men,” she’d said, before lowering her voice. “But he requires the physician’s presence daily now, in addition to the protection of over a dozen guards. He is afraid of betrayal from within. And he is even more afraid of death.”

Succession was going to happen, regardless of whether he named an heir. I only hoped violence could be avoided.

The Forbidden City itself seemed to understand something was about to happen.

The koi fish began hiding beneath bridges, barely emerging for food or sunlight.

The winter lily flowers had dried up, and yet spring cherry blossoms were reluctant to take their place, despite the gardeners’ most fervent efforts.

All the servants who could be spared had left the capital, returning home for the New Year holiday.

As for those who remained, they bore the beleaguered look of farmers preparing for a blizzard, trying to carry in their crops before the impending storm.

The morning after Prince Keyan’s return, I dressed with particular care, adrenaline thrumming through my veins.

Lotus helped me into pale cream robes, which were embroidered with blooming osmanthus flowers.

The bodice was tightly fitted, my waist cinched with a silk sash that trailed down the skirt.

The sleeves, long and loose, were made of a fine satin so light as to be transparent.

My hair was pinned up in several heavy loops to resemble a butterfly’s wings, with freshwater pearls scattered throughout to match my robes.

Lily burst through the doors just before breakfast. “Prince Keyan has sent out an official summons—for the entire royal family!”

I frowned at this. I had presumed he would include me, but since Sky and I were not yet married, I was technically not a part of the royal family.

Regardless, I went as if invited.

I arrived at the Hall of Supreme Harmony just as Sky did. “Meilin?” he called, and I turned, giving him my brightest smile.

Taken aback, he scanned me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on my face, carefully painted with cosmetics, and my robes, befitting a princess.

He paused, searching for the right words.

“You look…incredible,” he said, before rousing himself as Winter appeared on the stone steps.

“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed—”

“Let me go with you,” I said, taking his hand.

He squeezed it back, before glancing worriedly toward the red columns and the imposing doors beyond. “Father may—”

“He has enough on his plate as it is,” said Winter dryly. “I doubt he’ll notice. Unless, of course, you plan on making trouble?”

I smiled sweetly at him. “Would I ever?”

Sky shot me a questioning look, but he seemed to trust Winter’s opinion on the matter. “If you insist,” Sky said, offering me his arm as we ascended the steps. “Though I can’t comprehend why you’d want to waste your time witnessing our family drama,” he muttered.

“Believe me,” I replied cheerily, “I’m used to family drama.”

As Prince Yuchen waltzed past us with his usual entourage, Sky tightened his grip on my arm. “This may get ugly,” he warned me.

You have no idea, Sky.

The throne room had not changed since my last visit, but the Imperial Commander had.

He now sat shrunken against his throne, the grandeur of the golds and reds around him only emphasizing the pallor that had overtaken him.

Above his dais, the inscribed golden plaque proclaimed Establishing the utmost harmony and promoting good governance .

Yet here was a man who had sown only discord—both within the state and within his own household. Now he was paying the price.

As we kowtowed, I inspected him covertly through my lashes. He’d lost weight, and the transformation was stark. Once large and muscular, he now reminded me of a northern snow dog stripped of its fur, revealing a scrawny and misshapen frame underneath.

At his side, Consort Caihong—his current favorite—served him eight-treasure rice, replete with red bean paste, orange slices, kumquats, lychees, and goji berries. Despite its mouthwatering fragrance, he barely picked at his plate.

“Speak,” he said to Prince Keyan, who had summoned us today.

“Your Majesty, long may you live,” began the crown prince.

“As I mentioned in my correspondence, I was initially astonished by the discrepancy in the Saiya gold mine production and the imperial treasury reports. But after investigating the issue, I discovered how the missing funds were being appropriated.”

My lip curled at the way Prince Keyan so easily took credit for my work. As expected from a prince.

To my right, Yuchen straightened, his back as stiff as a bamboo scroll. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ruihua, who seemed completely unbothered, a deer unaware it stood in a hunter’s sights.

“Moreover, after interrogating the Imperial Security Commissioner, I learned that one of my brothers had suddenly come into possession of a gold windfall, and was using the funds to commission an illegal army that would rival the Forbidden City’s own imperial guard. Lord Xu, please come forward.”

Yuchen’s face turned bright red, though he dared not speak.

Lord Xu emerged from between the marble columns. To my horror, he now walked with a limp.

Had Lei tortured him to extract a confession? Just as he’d once tortured me?

“Your Majesty!” Lord Xu cried, pressing his forehead to the floor. “Please forgive this most loyal servant for his shameful weakness. I was coerced into this—I had no choice—”

“Who?” Sky’s father demanded, anger reinvigorating his pallid face. He leaned forward, hands clenching the arms of his throne. “Who did this?”

Trembling, Lord Xu rose and turned. Prince Yuchen started to back away. But Lord Xu searched the princes’ faces, settling on the one I least expected.

He pointed at Sky.