Page 103 of The Blood Orchid

I was the merchant girl from Guangzhou, the girl who lived on the road of pig’s blood, covered in clay dust, the flower who was meant to die in winter. I was the sister of Fan Wenshu and Fan Yufei, the daughter of a great alchemist from the west, brash and uneducated and sharp.

I was the girl who forced her way into the palace even when no one believed that I could.

Men were golden thread around my fingers, lies like poetry, bloodstains and screams and gold. And there was Gaozong, taking my hand and looking out over our city, my city, my kingdom.

I tensed up and realized the Empress had pressed me up against a tree, her hand at my throat.Those aren’t my memories, I thought. Our minds were melting into each other.

A blunt pain hammered through my skull, and through my skewed vision, I caught a glimpse of Gaozong on the floor of the throne room, Zheng Sili looming over him.

I need to hold on until Zheng Sili can kill Gaozong, I reminded myself. This was my only job—to occupy the Empress while Wenshu and Yufei did their job outside, and Zheng Sili took care of Gaozong. If I failed, all of them would die.

I am Fan Zilan, I thought, but the words came quieter now, the Empress’s hand choking the breath out of me, her hands like solid gold.

It was bright summer, and I was gathering mud to make clay back in Guangzhou, throwing a handful at Wenshu.

I was wrapped in white, a discarded concubine praying in a convent, waiting for greatness to find me once more.

I was studying by moonlight, my sister offering me a bite of cucumber while I traced my fingers over my father’s notes in a language long lost to me, the embers of a dream slowly glowing brighter.

I am...

My thoughts reached out, drowning hands clawing for shore, but the name slid through my fingers and turned to mist.

I was alone in darkness among sweaty blankets and blood, clutching my newborn daughter too tightly against my chest, weighing my dreams against my own heart.

I wantedmore.

The men who had underestimated me, used me and thrown me away—all of them would suffer. They could rot in dungeons, grow like mildew into its wet stones, dissolve into darkness. Because I had earned this title, this dream, this life.

I am the Empress.

I let out a breath, the tension leaving my muscles like a cool wave sighing over my whole body.

I opened my eyes, and I was sitting on my throne, watching as my husband dispatched the commoner. He had the boy pressed down against the ground by the throat, three stones crushed against his chest. The stones dissolved in a blaze of red light—alchemy could truly be beautiful beyond measure—and the boy’s eyes went wide. He coughed and sprayed blood acrossGaozong, tiny pearls of it splattering against my dress.

But I didn’t mind at all. Red was my favorite color.

“You have to destroy his body completely, or some worm will find a way to bring him back,” I said. That was all that alchemists were—wet bugs crawling through dirt, refusing to die.

Gaozong looked at me with those round, helpless eyes that told me I would have to do everything myself, like always.

“Do I need to be clearer?” I said. “Cut his head off.”

Gaozong frowned. “But I’m out of firestones.”

I rolled my eyes. Alchemists were truly spoiled with their power. Gaozong wouldn’t know how to wash his own feet without alchemy. “Then find something sharp.”

He stood up and bowed, hurrying out of the room. He always obeyed my direct orders, which was desirable to an extent, though for once I wished he’d have a single intelligent thought of his own.

Like my favorite alchemist.

I looked down at her hands—my hands—caked in dirt, crooked and split nails that I would need to have Gaozong fix later. I ran a hand through my coppery hair, grimacing at the dirt and blood tangled in it. At least my dress was silk, but travel had dulled the vibrant red to a muddy brown. The girl was too wiry, her edges as sharp and gangly as a newborn deer, though I supposed that was the inevitable consequence of growing up on a peasant’s diet. I’d taken worse bodies before, and there was little I couldn’t fix with time.

I looked in the mirror, and a sudden wave of sadness rushed through me.

After all this time, she was gone.

The thought should have elated me. In only weeks, she’dunmade everything I’d spent a century building. She was a needle slipped under my nail, a relentless annoyance.

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