Page 39 of The Nightblood Prince

Luyao was no match for Siwang. With a single swing of his fist, Siwang all but knocked Luyao out within the first breath of the match.

More men volunteered for the chance to fight, ravenous for the honor of beating the Crown Prince of Rong in combat. The same excitement I had seen ten thousand times before—in the emperor’s court and during the imperial hunt.

None had ever succeeded before, and none succeeded today, not even as exhaustion slowed Siwang’s stealthy feet.

The sun climbed higher into the sky. By the time sweat beaded on Siwang’s forehead, and the raised hands of brave challengers fell in masses, it was almost noon.

Half a smile at his lips, our beloved prince gazed at this battalion of astonished men, whose trust and respect he had just earned like conquered land.

He straightened his back, as if ready to go for another round, though I noticed the way his chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his porcelain facade.

Then, almost in unison, the soldiers bowed for their prince and general.

His half smile blossomed into a full smile, pride gleaming like the golden sunlight he radiated.

Just like that, he’d won the hearts of thousands of men.

All in a morning’s work.

Siwang laughed. “I want to tell everyone that you can take the rest of the day off, but I’ve already borrowed enough time. If I stole more, your commanders might riot. Why don’t we take the rest of the morning off, at least?”

Siwang looked to the commanders, who stood in a line before the gathered crowd like guards, ready to step in if anyone posed a real threat.

They exchanged glances, then nodded in unison.

Again, the crowd cheered. Nobody seemed to notice that the morning was almost over, so he wasn’t giving us much of anything. Yet, the excitement was palpable.

“Thank you, for your time, and for showing me just how magnificent Rong’s soldiers are. Every single one of you is Rong’s pride. Don’t you ever forget that.”

I let out the breath I was holding when Siwang disappeared among his waiting guards and the crowd began to disperse.

Luyao met my eyes from across the courtyard. If he had not intervened, would Siwang have found me out? I wasn’t sure what would hurt more. For my identity as a girl to be found out and to be sentenced to death on the count of treason, or to be completely forgotten by Siwang in just one year?

“Luyao.” I called out his name. “Thank—”

A slender eunuch in dark blue robes caught my arms.

“The prince wishes to see you in his tent.”

Shit. “I…”

“Now.”

Siwang’s tent was north of the camp, far from the barracks, surrounded by smaller tents that housed his advisors and hand-selected warriors who went wherever he went, men whose entire lives were dedicated to keeping him safe.

In the distance, lunch was being served. Congee with beans, slender shreds of pork sparingly dispersed atop it like a dainty garnish, and sides of fermented cabbage for the soldiers to share. A lot of the recruits were from the north, where fermented vegetables were a must with every meal.

It wasn’t much, but it kept our bellies full, which was more than most had, especially those at the borders.

There was a reason many of those who voluntarily enlisted were from poorer families: they came only for the prospect of a hot meal, knowing they might pay with their life when it was time to meet Lan’s army.

If the only other option was starving to death under winter’s breath, then was there ever a choice?

In the army, they had the prospect of growth.

Promotions, though rare for boys of no name and no means, were possible.

Something was better than nothing.

My stomach growled. If I didn’t go back soon, there wouldn’t be any shreds of pork left; the congee would just be water and a few floating grains of rice. It would be foolish to even dream of seeing any fermented vegetables left at the table.

The prince’s guards gave me suspicious glances when I approached the tent, but lifted the flap for me to enter.

Inside, Siwang was holding court with six men: three of them in silk winter robes, two men in armor, and Caikun, standing just a few steps behind Siwang, was in his commander’s uniform.

I didn’t recognize any of the other men, but to hold court with Siwang meant they were important in some way. My feet whispered against the soft rug. The men stopped what they were doing and looked at me. Narrowed eyes and confused glances, probably wondering the same as the guards outside.

What was a scrawny, green recruit like me doing here?

Even Caikun seemed surprised when he saw me, a slow frown forming between his brows.

I lowered my head and hoped they could not see my face, that they would not recognize me.

“He’s with me,” Siwang said casually, dismissing my presence with a wave of his hand. “Continue, General Wang.”

Siwang had changed back to his black dragon robes, fine silk hugging his wide shoulders and tall frame even better than the tattered linen robes he’d worn earlier.

He’d taken the time to comb out his hair, previously disheveled from the fights.

Now it sat in an elegant topknot on his head, held in place by a small crown of gold and a slender hairpin.

I looked away before he could catch me staring.

“Everything said in this tent is confidential, and nobody is going to say anything. Right, Little Li ?” Siwang turned his attention to me.

I shuddered at the way he said my nickname, one that only my comrades called me. “Right, Your Highness.”

“Continue, General Wang,” Siwang repeated.

“Well, um, as I was saying, the soldiers are improving. Some are better than others. The Second and Third Companies of the Fifth Battalion are battlefield-ready.”

“And the others?”

Silence. Hesitation. An answer that didn’t need to be spoken outloud.

Siwang sighed. “Keep training them. We are losing men quicker than ever. Send the most qualified soldiers to the front lines within the moon, and toughen your training on the others. The front lines are waiting.”

“But Your Highness, Lan’s soldiers are killing our men quicker than we can train them. This isn’t sustainable. We—”

The general paused midsentence, as if suddenly remembering my existence. He shot Siwang a troubled look.

“Do your best, General Wang. I will try to come up with a solution. We are going to beat Lan’s armies. I know we will.”

By the somber looks around the room, I wasn’t sure Siwang’s advisors were as optimistic.

“But Your Highness—”

“This is enough for today; leave us.”

“Your—”

“Leave us,” Siwang repeated, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, something he used to do under stress.

A headache was setting in. Before, I would have gone to his side and rubbed his temples for him.

Now I was just his foot soldier. Someone like me was not allowed to touch the Crown Prince without his permission.

The men must have realized Siwang was irritated, and relented. If they kept nagging Siwang like a bunch of aunties, they would only anger him further.

Siwang was just and calm in the worst of situations, though he did have a temper worthy of an emperor.

Throughout history, countless eunuchs, ministers, and generals had lost their heads by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Cautionary tales.

Steadily, the advisors filed out, one by one. Until Caikun, Siwang, and I were the last three standing.

“You too, Caikun.”

I stole a glance up at Caikun, whose icy gaze made every muscle in my body go tense.

I’d lost my fight earlier. Was he ashamed of me? Or was this a warning?

Just as Siwang had been raised to rule and to lead, Caikun had been raised to protect Siwang with his life, to study beside him, support him, and be everything the prince needed him to be. A best friend and a guardian.

Relax, you saw how quickly he beat me earlier, I wanted to say. The person you need to worry about is me.

With a reluctant bow, Caikun exited the tent.

In his absence, the full weight of Siwang’s gaze descended on me like the judgment blade of an executioner, precariously balanced at the nape of my neck.

The Crown Prince of Rong, and the chief general of the Third Army: if he wanted me dead, I would not live.

Siwang exhaled, a soft sound that dispersed the tension, if only a little. “Drop the act, Fei.”

Words I’d been dreading since his eyes caught mine in the courtyard.

He’d recognized me. Of course he had. He was Siwang. It was fatuous, thinking I could bypass those eyes.

When I finally met his eyes, Siwang’s lips were curled at the edges, his eyes clear and benevolent—for now. This meant nothing; I was not safe. More than once, I had witnessed those eyes change fast as a summer’s storm.

I slipped the headband from between my brows.

He might hold the power, however I had the advantage of foresight. Though it was unlikely, if I was smart and fast on my feet, then maybe—just maybe—I could outscheme my beloved playmate and beat the prince at his own game. Whatever that game might be.

Siwang’s eyes lingered on me. Lips woven into a conspiring smile, he perched at the desk’s edge. “When I saw your name on the enlistment sheet in place of your father’s, I thought I was dreaming again.”

Something in my belly turned sour. “You knew my father was conscripted, and you didn’t do anything to stop it?”

Did he not remember how Father had struggled to walk up the steps of Heaven’s Hall on rainy days, how the imperial doctors consulted him on his ailing heart, constantly telling him to rest and not to get angry?

“I was the one who put him on the list.”

Something cold coiled in me, freezing my every muscle, every thought, every heartbeat. I wanted to grab that blade at his hip, slash that ravishing neck of his, and watch him choke on his own blood.

In the end, the only thing I could manage was silence. A stray tear gathered in the corner of my eye.

“Relax, Fei. I did not intend for him to serve as a soldier and fight the war. I wanted him to be my advisor.”