Page 33 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Twenty-Three

As surely as the osmanthus blooms upon the moon, the hearts of the people will stir with rebellion.

The carpet was soft beneath my cheek. I rubbed my face against it, not wanting to rise, before wondering why I was on the ground. The world lurched around me as I cracked open one eye.

I was lying on the floor of my room, the pattern of my carpet most definitely indented into my cheek. I tried to push myself upright, but my arms wouldn’t cooperate. Then I noticed: my wrists were bound in manacles.

Heat flushed through my body as my anger found me. Awkwardly I crawled into an upright position, finding my ankle also chained to the wall. Like a misbehaving dog, shackled alone to keep from biting others.

I hated him. I’d never hated anyone more in that moment.

“My lady…” Lotus was standing near the washroom, the muscles in her face tight with agitation. She’d poured me a glass of water. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Lotus.” I tried to stand but the chains were too heavy. “Please. You must help me. You must find the key—”

She backed away from me as if I were a rabid dog. “I-I’m sorry, my lady,” she whispered, on the verge of tears. “The prince said it was for your own protection.”

The revelation sank into the hollow of my chest: I had made myself weak by relying on Sky’s strength.

I’d believed we could be a good team, equals in every sense.

But by accepting the status quo of our society, I had allowed our union to be nothing more than a farce of equality.

Sky was the recognized head, and in all decisions he would get the ultimate say.

It did not matter what he promised me privately, in the bedroom and alone.

By maintaining our existing systems of power, he in effect secured his authority over both me and his kingdom.

I would’ve never had any power as his wife. For it would not have been me on the throne—but him.

These chains were proof of that.

A mangled scream escaped me—part desperation, part anger. How dare he do this to me—after all that I had done for him? Was this a new side of him, revealed in the face of unchecked power? Or had this part of Sky always existed, but I, overcome by love and affection, had chosen to ignore it?

Lotus had started to cry. “Please, just bear with it a little longer, my lady,” she pleaded. “Apologize tomorrow, and he’ll forgive you, I know he will. All will be well then—”

“I will never ask for his forgiveness,” I hissed. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Lotus, I demand you—”

Before I could get the words out she’d fled. I yanked at my chains, which did nothing but jar the cold metal against my shinbones. Swearing, I tested the range my chains offered me. I could see my mother’s diary resting beside my bed, not a few feet away, but it was just out of reach.

“Sky!” I screamed, never mind that he was likely nowhere in the vicinity. He’d trapped me here, and the worst part was, he’d done it with my best interests purportedly at heart.

Didn’t I get to decide that?

I thought of the first time we’d fought, when he’d found out my true identity during the war.

We’d resorted to violence back then too, and perhaps that should’ve been the first warning sign.

Both of us had too much fire in us—we were both stubborn to the core.

But Sky had been raised with the knowledge that he was always right.

I had been taught to humble myself and admit wrongdoing—and I was so damn sick of it.

A key turned in the door. I tensed, wondering if he’d come to gloat. Instead, at the broad-shouldered silhouette that filled the doorway, I gasped in surprise—and relief.

“You came for me,” I said hoarsely.

Lei’s smile was joyless. “I thought you’d been a prisoner long enough.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “How did you—”

“No time for questions,” he said, but I saw Lily’s familiar shadow in the corridor before he shut the door behind him.

Lei crossed the floor in a few long strides, kneeling beside me with a metal ring filled with keys. But his hands stilled as his gaze fell over my face, lingering on the new purple-blue bruises circling my throat. Sky had left his mark on me.

Lei’s eyes had turned black. “He’ll pay for this,” he whispered, and I shivered at the brutality in his voice.

I shook my head. “I want to forget it. I’m leaving Chuang Ning. Lei, I’m going to find Zhuque’s eternal spring.”

He looked up in surprise, and I was relieved to see the haze of murder fading from his eyes. He began to test keys on my manacles. “The mythical spring?”

“It’s real. I spoke with a Ruan seer—and she saw that I would find it.”

He took this all in stride. “It can heal you?”

“If I choose to let it.”

Lei looked as if he didn’t understand but wisely saw it was not the time for questions. “I’m coming with you,” he said, as his third attempt opened the lock and the irons chaining me to the wall fell. I rubbed at my sore wrists as he helped me stand.

“What about your betrothal?” I asked him.

He shot me a sardonic look. “You know that was only for political reasons.”

I didn’t know that. “Then you’ll break the official treaty—”

“That treaty was always meant to be broken, sweetheart.”

Peering up into his face, I remembered the rumors I’d heard about Lei consorting with Anlai court officials.

Had he been forming secret agreements with them, I wondered, agreements that stood outside the official treaty?

For the official treaty had always been controlled by the ruling imperial family.

“I have the keys to those too,” he said, nodding at the slim iron bands I wore on each wrist, “if you want them removed.”

“No!” I said. “Destroy those.” I couldn’t take off my irons again.

He gave me a questioning glance. Only now did I notice that his complexion appeared unusually pale, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Are you ill?” I asked.

He grimaced but shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Are you sure about your irons?”

I nodded, rubbing my wrists. “The dragon,” I explained tersely. “He’s been controlling me in my sleep. He used my personal guard to…” I faltered, not wanting to relive the night’s events.

Lei seemed to understand. “He can’t use me,” he said matter-of-factly. The straightforward way he said it made no sense—how could he guarantee something like that? And yet his levelheaded confidence reassured me. If I couldn’t trust myself, perhaps I could trust him.

But… I amended. This was the Ximing prince we were talking about.

I peered up at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” he said easily. “But isn’t it so much more interesting this way?”

It was like him to joke at a time like this. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my mother’s diary. “Fine. I know the servants’ route to the stables—follow me.”

“Here,” he said, before we left. He handed me my old sword, a double-edged jian made of steel.

I swallowed with unexpected sentimentality as I lifted the blade in my hands, remembering its weight and heft.

Sky had never thought to return my blade to me, I thought bitterly.

And I, consumed by palace life, had never thought to ask.

Lei was a master of stealth, prowling around corners like a jungle cat and taking out guards so ruthlessly they made not a single sound. Lily accompanied us, before leaving to wake her friends.

“I know which servants are loyal to the rebellion,” she explained, though I had not mentioned any sort of rebellion. “They’ll distract the guards and help you escape. I’ll show you the way—you can leave through the livestock gate.”

Lei had grown increasingly pale and reticent as the night progressed. After securing two mares from the stables, we tied cloths around their hooves and walked them to the servant’s gate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to train you,” I said to Lily, as the gates parted. “But you’re strong—strong enough to stand on your own.”

“I know,” she said with her gap-toothed smile, the one that reminded me so much of my baby sister. “Long may you live, Phoenix-Slayer.”

She had never called me that before. I shot her a look of confusion, but she motioned toward the open path. “Go,” she said. “Before the prince learns you’re missing.”

For Sky would stop at nothing to find me.

I mounted my mare and followed Lei’s. I did not know if it was the overwhelming emotions of the night, or the way the palace spires shone beneath pearly beams of moonlight, but looking back at the Forbidden City, I felt an odd mixture of nostalgia and regret.

But I would not come back, I promised, turning toward the distant horizon.

I would survive out there—no, I would thrive out there—and I would do it all on my own terms.

Lei glanced over his shoulder and nodded. I urged my steed into a gallop, and we fled deep into the devouring night.