Page 29 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)
Twenty
Long ago, there lived a fearsome beast who hungered for the laughter of children.
He terrorized the villages at the turning of each year, until one winter, a young boy set fire to a string of bright-cracking sparks, and the beast fled in terror.
From that day forth, the people dressed in red and lit firecrackers at the dawn of each year to keep the beasts at bay.
The Spring Festival was the largest holiday of the year.
Every person in Anlai, from the wealthiest merchant to the lowliest butcher, celebrated the occasion, which ushered in the new year with festivity and grandeur.
Past grievances were set aside, and new vows sworn.
Old graves were cleaned, and new babies swathed.
Chuang Ning, which boasted countless migrants, saw a significant outflow as many left the capital to reunite with their families in the surrounding villages.
But the ones who stayed stayed for the spectacle.
The Forbidden City was never so grand as it was during the Spring Festival.
Paper lanterns hung from every low-hanging eave, and red peonies lined every doorway, so that the air smelled sweet and redolent no matter where one went.
In the week leading up to the Arrival of Spring, firecrackers lit the sky every night, their cheerful popping noises intended to scare away demons and hungry ghosts.
The last day of the holiday, the Arrival of Spring, culminated in a grand night of palace festivities that I had only ever heard stories about. My mother had attended once as a young woman, and she had always called it the most beautiful night of her life.
She had not exaggerated. After a week of firecrackers, I thought I’d grown jaded to the festivities, but the sight of the palace made me gasp.
The inner palace had been transformed into the glittering heart of a gem.
As I crossed the threshold on Sky’s arm, I felt as though we were entering a lit diamond; every polished surface gleamed with silver and crystals and flickering candles, which gave the palace a warm, underwater feel.
Against the soft radiance of firelight, every lord and lady I passed looked ethereal, their fine robes and jewels reminding me of stars in the sky.
Lotus had not let my dress be outdone. To match the festivities, she had chosen a set of crimson red robes that cinched tightly at the waist, ornamented with a lovely gold shawl that showed off my shoulders and throat.
“You’ll want a dress that leaves your throat bare,” Lotus had explained, after opening the gift Sky’s mother had sent me, as congratulations for our betrothal.
It was a diamond necklace, so heavy Lotus required two hands to lift it.
I had not particularly wished to wear such a loud statement piece, but I knew it would be rude to refuse a gift.
As I examined my reflection in the darkened window of the ceremonial hall, I thought I did look the part of Sky’s bride, young and healthy and happy.
As for how I felt on the inside, that did not matter tonight.
Sky and I matched in our red and gold costumes, and we received our fair share of congratulations from strangers and friends alike.
After dinner, as Sky fell into conversation with a childhood friend, I caught a glimpse of a lone figure outside, drinking wine in the open-air gallery. Princess Ruihua.
Shortly after Sky had been named heir, Winter had presented evidence condemning Yuchen for treason, though it was hardly necessary.
The Imperial Commander had made his decision regarding his successor, and he would not change his mind.
Yuchen was promptly stripped of his title and executed, though I had not heard what became of his wife and children.
Excusing myself from Sky, I made my way across the courtyard toward the princess, who stood alone in the corner, swallowing her drink as though each sip were bitter vinegar.
“Your Highness—”
Princess Ruihua turned, her expression souring as she saw me. She raised her hand to slap me, but she was drunk, and I easily caught her raised wrist.
“That is not my title,” she said, her hands drifting to her swollen stomach. “I have no title. My children have no title. Are you happy now? Yifeng was right—your greed knows no bounds.”
“I’m sorry Yuchen’s fate was tied to yours,” I said, “but I’m not sorry for what I did.
” I released her and stepped back, out of striking distance.
This was the ugly underbelly of palace politics: that even those who played no part in their master’s mistakes still reaped the consequences of his failure.
In mere days, through no fault of her own, Ruihua and her children had been reduced from royalty to objects of charity.
It was easier to blame me, I saw, a fallen woman who had overstepped her place within the world of men, than to blame Liu Yuchen, a husband like any other husband, as fallible as any other master.
I understood that if Sky made a strategic choice, he would be the one praised, and that if he made a wrong move, I would be the one blamed.
Hadn’t it always been like this in history—all the emperors led astray because of their wicked wives and concubines?
It was a pity Ruihua’s presence reminded me of these ugly truths, or I might’ve tried to help her. Instead, I walked away, an uneasy restlessness growing in the pit of my stomach. The grandeur of the palace had shifted into vulgarity, and suddenly I no longer wished to stay.
The lion dances had begun—acrobatic performers dressed in colorful lion costumes who wound around the courtyard and through the crowd. I felt an incoming migraine from the echoing drumbeat, which reverberated against the stone tiles.
Scanning the courtyard, I searched for an escape path, one that wouldn’t alert Sky’s family to my absence.
How I longed to see Xiuying at this time, when the Spring Festival was always intended as an occasion for family.
Once Sky and I were wed, I could invite Xiuying, Rouha, and Plum to live with me in the Forbidden City.
But, thinking of Princess Yifeng and all my remaining enemies, I wondered if it was not wiser to keep those you loved out of the palace.
What a lonely life I’d signed myself up for.
“How festive you appear,” said a low, mocking voice behind me. I felt my toes curl at the sound. “Not looking forward to the new year?”
“Are you?” I asked the Ximing prince, my gaze not leaving the writhing lion dancers.
“The future is always a source of comfort,” said Lei. “It’s the past I despise.”
His tone was both light and derisive. But I never knew if he was making fun of others or himself.
“You’ll soon be leaving Chuang Ning?” I asked, for I knew his status as hostage was only necessary until the treaty was signed. “You must be thrilled to be returning to Tzu Wan.”
“And you will remain here?” he asked. A delicate pause. “Was my offer so uninteresting?”
“To go with you?” I asked, scoffing at the idea, which I’d perceived as another one of his twisted jests. “How do you think that would end?”
I felt the weight of his gaze like a sparking match. “I think we rather understand each other.” His voice was unusually introspective.
I turned toward him tentatively. He looked like a mythical creature of the night, his long black hair loose and windswept, his skin golden under the flickering torches.
His ink-black eyelashes were like the wings of butterflies, framing his molten amber eyes.
Again, they were dilated. So he’d been drinking.
An icy gust of wind blew through the courtyard, sending the hanging lanterns swinging like fist fighters.
Without warning, Lei reached out and brushed a careless thumb across my cold cheek, tucking back a stray lock of hair that had whipped free in the wind.
Even that infinitesimal of a brush left me reeling with sensation, my skin tingling from his touch. But I refused to let him know it.
“Why are you always drinking?” I asked instead.
His smile was as bitter as oversteeped tea. “How else can I live with myself, sweetheart?”
“The rest of us find a way,” I said, before adding quietly, “though I’m no stranger to falling victim to my vices.”
The earth vibrated with the pounding drums. All around me, people cheered, laughed, toasted, and drank. Yet never had I felt so alone.
He was still watching me. “Do you think you’ll be happy here?”
I shrugged, scanning the night sky above us. “It all worked out like a dream,” I said. “The Imperial Commander pardoned me. He named Sky as his successor. And he consented to our betrothal.” I watched Sky’s father sitting at the head of his dais, ornamented in brilliant red and gold.
“So you secured the throne; you won your bid,” said Lei dryly. “Only, have you ever wondered whether you really want what you worked so hard to secure?”
There was something razor-edged in his voice. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know why the Imperial Commander finally named his heir?” He smiled coldly. “Because he cannot fight a war on multiple fronts.”
I blinked at him. “The war is over, Lei.”
“The Three Kingdoms War is over,” he agreed, “but this current semblance of peace will not last, no matter what your new father would have you believe.”
Another errant blast of wind caused me to shiver.
Lei shifted his stance, shielding me from the cold air.
Up close, I breathed in his familiar masculine scent and felt the old stirrings of desire within me.
I couldn’t keep doing this—wavering in my decisions, wondering what if, what if, what if.
I had chosen my path, I did not regret it, and now there was no going back.
I tried to step back from the prince, but my heel struck the alcove wall. Lei’s grin turned wolfish.
“Do you want to know what your dear betrothed is hiding from you?”
I shook my head, then slowly nodded.