Page 46 of The Nightblood Prince

I didn’t see Siwang the next day, or the day after that. I volunteered to return equipment to the armory after every lesson and walked past Beifeng’s stable at every opportunity in hopes of seeing him.

But it seemed that in life, the more you wanted something, the more it refused to be yours. How the tables had turned. As a child, I’d hated that Siwang was always around, trailing at my heels, bright-eyed like a puppy.

Now I was the one who wanted to see him, constantly.

How embarrassing.

Caikun, along with a handful of senior commanders and military advisors, was absent as well; these were the people who had Siwang’s ear, whose opinions were required to make big decisions in war.

Panic simmered in the camp like oil sizzling in a hot pan. I didn’t tell anyone what I’d overheard that day on the practice field. Still, they sensed the tension in the air, smelled the brewing storm, felt Death breathing down our necks.

I looked around at my friends and acquaintances and the other faces that had become familiar with every sunrise and sunset.

Caikun had trained us to the best of his ability.

However, four months would never be enough time to turn boys into men, or civilians into soldiers.

We were not qualified to be the reinforcements the First Army needed.

Still, I wanted to go and help.

Four months ago in Duhuan, I had run in the face of danger. Now I wasn’t sure if I could do the same. Not when so many men had so bravely marched into battle to protect those they loved. If they could do it, then so could I.

My visions could be changed. The bloodshed of my visions was still preventable—if I tried hard enough, anything was possible.

An empress was the mother of the land, and mothers protected. Was this what the prophecy had suggested all along? That I must protect those I loved, fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves?

By the time I gathered the courage to seek out Siwang, three days had passed.

My heart was pounding when I approached his tent. I bowed to the soldiers stationed outside, half expecting them to shoo me away for daring to venture this close to the prince’s quarters without invitation and during this time of crisis.

They didn’t.

“The prince has been waiting for you,” one said to me, and stepped aside.

The day was gloomy. Pale clouds covered the sun, leaving everything tinted in teary gray. The tent was dimmer than last time, the candles unlit.

He sat at the same table where we’d shared our meals, a teacup in hand. I smelled the wine on him.

“I was waiting for you to come to see me, of your free will.” He let out a soft sound, a cross between a laugh and an exhale. “You were taking so long, I feared we wouldn’t get to say goodbye before I left.”

“You were avoiding me because you wanted me to come to you?”

He shrugged. “I’m always the one chasing after you. For once in my life, I want you to chase me.”

I stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. “We are not kids anymore, Siwang. I have been worried sick. If you wanted to see me, you should have…” I sighed. This wasn’t worth it. Neither of us wanted to argue with the other. “You’re leaving?” I added after a moment of silence.

“Tomorrow.”

My heart sank. It was so soon. “If I hadn’t come, would you really have left without saying goodbye?”

“Just as you tried to leave me without saying goodbye?” Siwang snapped. Something he had never done with me, and as soon as the sharp words were out, he seemed to deflate. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you punishing me for what happened a year ago?” When he didn’t answer, I asked another question, perhaps the first question I should have asked: “Are you leaving for the palace, or the front lines?”

“Do I look like someone who cowers in the face of danger?”

“You are your father’s 心头肉 , the flesh of his heart, the center of his world. He will want his heir and favorite son to be safe, not on a battlefield infested with monsters.”

“Are you talking about my father, or yourself? If you don’t want me to go to the front lines, then tell me, Fei. Don’t go around in circles and waste what little time we have left.”

My lips parted. However, no words came out.

He waved me closer. “Sit down.”

I did as he asked, knelt by the table as he flipped over another porcelain cup, poured a suggestion of wine, and offered it to me.

There was something so captivating about the way Siwang’s long, elegant fingers held that tiny piece of porcelain.

The way his head tilted back with each drink, delicate strands of inky hair framing his face like he was a painting.

Siwang wasn’t one to indulge in alcohol. He loved control too much to relinquish it for something as trivial as wine. I remembered the state dinners with envoys and high officials—his wine pitcher was always filled with water.

He drank alcohol only when the stately visitors pushed wine onto me and he would step in and drink for me.

Perhaps this was why he drank from teacups instead of the bronze jue most men of nobility used. Or bowls, as many of the hunters I’d encountered on the road did.

There was something so ineffably Siwang about this moment; if this had happened at a winehouse in Yong’An, every man in the city would have grabbed the nearest teacup and started imitating in hope of re-creating his effortless grace.

He was so unfairly perfect. Right up to my departure from the palace, my etiquette teachers had slapped my hand for the way I sat and walked and ate, constantly comparing me with Siwang and all his charms.

The same went for the scholars, who had taught us poetry and history and novels and proverbs, which Siwang could recite in perfect rhythm after one read. Whereas it often took me two or three times to remember the words, and when I tried to recite it was never as lyrical.

Siwang was perfect. Everyone who’d helped raise us would agree. And I was just…well.

Why would a goddess reincarnate as a peasant girl from the middle of nowhere? The slander they used to say behind my back echoed, because they were right. If I really was a goddess reincarnated, then why was I so…ordinary? Why was I so unworthy of this impossibly perfect prince?

Compared with Siwang, I was never good enough.

I took the cup in my hands but didn’t sip from it.

Rice wine gave me a headache, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

A blurring numbness that made my hands and feet seem fragile and my heart heavy.

The wine also had a way of interfering with my visions, either blocking them entirely or propelling them into an intense mirage of nightmares, impossible to outrun.

If Siwang noticed that I didn’t touch my drink, he didn’t comment. He kept tilting his cup back, then pouring himself more. His face was already red, but his eyes were still sharp as ever.

Tipsy, but not yet drunk.

“The First Army has lost both Xiahui and Guilan. They are now trapped in the city of Changchun with limited food and water, surrounded by enemy soldiers.”

He didn’t have to say what would happen if we lost Changchun, our last stronghold for miles.

Only seven major walled cities separated Lan’s army from my village now. From everything I’d seen, this war wasn’t going to end itself.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I know most of the men in my company aren’t ready, but I am, Siwang. Take me with you. Let me fight.”

He laughed. “You are not coming with me. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m one of your best soldiers!” A lie. I was not good. I was barely average. But I had magic. My glimpses of the future, however brief, however rare, were an asset in this war where Rong needed every advantage we could get.

“You are just a fool who thinks too much of herself. You have not seen the men my father had trained, and how fast those vampires killed them. Tore them apart like rag dolls. Even if you were a seasoned warrior, I wouldn’t let you risk your life like that.”

“But you are fine with all these men risking their lives? Men with parents and lovers and families who depend on them?”

He set the teacup down, not loudly, not aggressively, though with enough force to make me pause. “It’s not the same.”

“Because of that asinine prophecy?”

“Because…” He paused and looked away, hesitation humming in the air between us.

A quiet secret at the tip of his tongue.

“I won’t risk losing you a second time, Fei.

This is my final answer. You will stay here.

And if a day ever comes that this camp is no longer safe, then you have my permission to flee.

Go home, take your family somewhere north and far from the bloodshed. ”

My breath snarled like a ribbon in my chest. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Siwang didn’t answer. He had come to the last dregs of his winenow. He swirled the liquid in his cup, somber as I’d ever seen him.

“They say that Lan Yexue started this war because of me.” I searched Siwang’s face for a reaction. “Let me end this.”

“Over my dead body will that monster touch you.”

“The people of Rong cannot take any more bloodshed. If we can’t plant crops soon, then there will be no food come autumn. Our people cannot take a famine as well as a war.”

“I have written to my father, and he has agreed to let the women join the farming forces and—”

“Siwang, if you are going to rule, then you need to make these decisions for the greater good. If you cannot stop Yexue, then why not let me try—”

Siwang slammed his hand on the table. When he looked up, I saw that his eyes were brimming with tears. “I don’t care for the greater good; I never have. I will sacrifice myself before I sacrifice you.” His voice cracked, just a little, and my heart cracked with it.