Page 7 of The Nightblood Prince

I could not turn back time and keep the prophecy from being spoken.

However, I did have command over the present that controlled what would happen tomorrow.

Time was a river that flowed endless. And with persistence, water could break stones.

If I tried hard enough, I could change the future and save my city from ruin.

“The imperial hunt is too sacred, and the tradition of granting whoever catches the first Beiying tiger of the hunt a wish of their choice has been around for hundreds of years. The emperor can go back on his words; he cannot go back on tradition.”

The imperial hunt was held in the days leading up to the winter solstice, to honor Rong’s northern roots.

It was a way to pay respect to the ancestors who had survived through hunting and gathering for hundreds of years when Rong was still a small tribute state to the larger, wealthier empires of the south.

As our society develops, and our empire prospers, we must not forget where we came from.

The austere times when the only way to fill our bellies was by the mercy of the land or by killing with our bare hands…

were words the emperor uttered at each hunt.

So that both the Rong dynasty and its people would never forget how lucky we were, to live in a time of plenty, when agriculture and farming filled our bowls with rice and vegetables and all the meat we could pray for.

During the Century of Great Winter, the Rong dynasty’s ancestral lands froze over and they were surrounded on all sides. Its people had to bow to the neighboring nations and assimilate to their ways to survive; they’d lost so much in that time.

Their culture.

Their names.

Their language.

So what little they had left of their ancestors, they clung to with both hands.

The hunt wasn’t just a way to honor their ancestors’ struggles, though. It was an important military exercise for the empire’s top soldiers. This was a place for men to show off their martial skills, for warriors to 出人头地 . To stand out among their peers and rise above their stations overnight.

If you could impress the emperor on the hunting ground, it didn’t matter which family you descended from, which region you hailed from, whether you were of noble blood or a serf.

The emperor valued true talent above inconsequential things such as name and status and family.

If one could prove their worth to the emperor, they’d be rewarded.

And nothing impressed the emperor more than the king of these snowy mountains.

The legendary Beiying tiger: the most coveted prize of every hunt.

Many had died for its pelt, and as long as the world had desperate souls who wished for more, many would continue to die.

Last winter was the first time in almost three years that someone had killed a Beiying tiger at the hunt.

The hero who’d slain it? None other than the empire’s favorite prince.

And Siwang, that fool, had wasted the wish on flattery. I wish for the continued expansion and prosperity of Rong. So that one day our continent might finally know peace, as our ancestors had always dreamt.

Words that had moved the emperor to tears.

Save the wish for something else, my son, the emperor replied. Something more selfish, something you want not for our mighty empire, but for yourself. It doesn’t matter what it is. Anything under heaven, I will give to you. Even if you ask for the blood of the gods, I will give it to you.

I grimaced at the memory.

“Is it really worth it, Fei?” my sister continued to ask. “Do you know how rare it is for a man to adore his betrothed the way Siwang adores you?”

“To be loved and doted on by one’s husband should be a basic necessity, not something to be admired,” I shot back, then realized how condescending I sounded.

Most girls did not have the luxury of choice. All they had were their fathers’ wishes, and the coins their husbands paid for them.

“So many girls would cut off their right hand to be Siwang’s bride. And you’re going to let it all go to waste, for what?”

So that everyone might live a long and happy life, I wanted to tell her Fangyun had not witnessed the horrors of my nightmares, had not watched everyone she had ever met die a hundred times, over and over again each time she closed her eyes.

I couldn’t tell her the visions, so I gave her a half-truth. “I want a life beyond the palace walls, and to do more with my life than be a wife and a mother. If I must die for that kind of life, then I will.”

“You’re going to break Siwang’s heart. When tributes arrive from our conquered regions, he always sends the best silks and the most lavish jewels to you.

Do you remember how last year, he ordered ten men to take the fastest horses to ride from southern Lan back to Yong’An in just five days, so he could bestow you the freshest lychees for your birthday? ”

“Those gifts mean nothing to him. He’s the Crown Prince of Rong: he can have all the silk and fancy rocks his heart desires. Just because he gives me pretty things, it doesn’t mean he loves me.”

“Fei’ er, you—”

“Siwang assumes I like silk and jewels.” I cut her off before she could finish, because I knew what she was going to say.

It was the same thing Mother and Father had said when I begged them to end the betrothal and let me come home.

Fei’er, you are so ungrateful. “Did you know three stallions died for his little escapade, and for what? A few dozen pieces of fruit that tasted only a little sweeter?”

Fangyun went quiet, and I sighed. It’s not ladylike to lose one’s temper.

“The inner palace is not the paradise everyone believes it to be. You have not been smothered by its rules or heard the cries that ring through the night. Even the concubines of noble birth cannot escape an emperor’s wrath. What makes you think a girl like me can survive?”

Lips parted, my sister looked like she wanted to push for more, then held herself back. If I wanted to tell her, she would not have to ask or pry these morsels of truth from me.

Siwang might be sweet to me now, but I had seen beautiful maidens come and go in his father’s harem, watched them wander the gardens like ghosts, covered in pale balm and cosmetics to hide their bruises; always so beautifully made up and quiet…and scared.

Love and hate were two sides of the same coin.

For men like Siwang, the only thing more dangerous than his hate was his love.

To unsuspecting eyes, Siwang was a dream too beautiful and perfect to be true.

Pristine in his silk robes the color of midnight, easily swallowing the crimson of all the blood that stained his hands.

“What if the thing Siwang loves isn’t me, but the prophecy?” My loudest fear, uttered in the quietest whisper.

Anger drained from my sister’s eyes as they misted with something akin to pity.

“Marrying Siwang would bring honor to our house.” She echoed the words Father had repeated a thousand times before, like a shackle wrapped tight around my ankles, weighing on me heavily each time I thought of running.

“You have the dream of ten thousand maidens in the palm of your hand. As the Empress of Rong, you’ll have ev—”

“Everything except the ability to leave.” Something bubbled at the hollow of my throat, and I swallowed it.

I would not cry. Not in front of Fangyun.

“What use is all the wealth and luxury if my world is confined to a prison they decorate as a palace? If I have nothing to do but sit and read and embroider while I wait for Siwang to visit me? Which might happen once a week in the beginning, then maybe once a month, then once a year when he’s filled his harem with beauties from every corner of the continent.

Girls he chose for himself or who were pushed upon him by the ministers and tribute states who wish to see one of their own on the throne of Rong one day. ”

“This is the life girls have endured for centuries, sister, we—”

“What if I don’t want to endure? The world is so much bigger than the palace or that gossipy, backstabbing city we call the capital, or even Rong!

Have you ever thought about all the things out there that we haven’t seen or heard or tasted or felt?

The kinds of delights scholars write poems about?

All the beauty that inspires artists to pick up their brushes and create masterpieces between strokes?

The kinds of delights that add color and flavor to your life, the kind of wonder that makes each day worth living…

The kinds of things we’ll never get to experience because men expect us to never leave our homes, so that we can be pretty and filial and chaste and all the ideals that keep us prisoners in our own bodies? ”

My sister’s eyes softened further. She came closer and put an arm around me.

We sat at the edge of my bed in silence. It didn’t matter how many times Father had Fangyun recite his careful lectures; my sister understood why I had to do this.

She had no quarrel with my plan, or what I wanted. It was just…

“It’s too dangerous, Fei’ er. ”

It always came back to this. “I can do this.”

“You could die.”

“If I die, at least there would be no more wars fought in the name of my prophecy. Our neighbors would cease to attack our borders to claim me as their own symbol of power. Perhaps that would be a better future for all of us. Perhaps with my death, the continent—”

Fangyun pressed her finger to my lips, to keep me from uttering more of the unspeakable. “You will not die, my sister.” She pulled something from her sleeve. “Take this with you. Give me some peace of mind, at least.”

She handed me a jeweled dagger with a handle made of ivory and a sheath carved from gold.

Extravagant swirls of feathers and flowers, gathering around a phoenix in flight.

“This was your birthday gift, but since you insist on bargaining with Death, I shall give it to you now. I hope it can protect you when I cannot.”

A riptide pushed at my eyes, relief prickling like needles. “Yun’ er …”

“They will notice if you are not at the feast tonight.”

“I will leave after I have shown my face.”

“That’s good.” Fangyun turned away, blinking back her own tears. “Try not to die.”

I laughed, and my eyes wandered to the silver-tipped battle bow, one of a pair that Siwang had made for us during the last hunt.

One for him, and one for me.

“I’ll do my best.”