Page 37 of The Nightblood Prince

Our new home was a small cottage with a thatched roof and mud walls, a stout thing at the edge of the village, perched atop a steep hill that would not be easy on my parents’ aging limbs.

“At least we have some privacy,” my mother said.

The inside wasn’t much better. Dust and cobwebs and a strange, sour stench that made my stomach turn.

My father was the first to set foot inside the house, making sure to clean up all the cobwebs around the door before we entered. I wondered what he felt now that their life in the capital was gone.

I didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

That night, when I closed my eyes, I hoped for dreams of Siwang old and gray and wise on his throne.I hoped for dreams of my parents living out their long lives in peace and serenity. I hoped for dreams of Yong’An bustling and its people content.

I should have known better than to hope.

16

The nightmares continued that first night, then the second, then the third.

Yong’An in flames, children being slaughtered. My sister’s screams, my parents’ lifeless bodies. And Siwang…

My dear, beloved Siwang.

Drenched in blood, dressed in the dragon robes of an emperor, kneeling in the grand hall as a faceless man in pristine white robes swung down a dark blade.

They’re just dreams,I tried to tell myself.They are not real.

But then…

17

War broke out three weeks after we left the capital.

Apparently, Lan Yexue had made it back home just as his uncle died of a mysterious illness. And now that he was home, he was set on revenge. Rong had humiliated the young prince during his time as hostage. And such transgressions would not be tolerated by men as prideful as the newly anointed prince regent…Or so the gossiping aunties at the morning market said.

The men of the village laughed at how this foolish prince of a crumbling empire thought himself strong enough to conquer the mighty Rong.

All I could think about was Lan Yexue’s blood that gleamed like the midnight sky. The same blood that had brought me back to life. And his impossible strength and speed that were beyond the scope of mortality.

Then the nightmares grew worse.

More vivid.

More violent.

The screams, louder than ever.

I began to feel the hot splatters of Siwang’s blood as the faceless men slashed his throat over and over in that familiar throne room.

To make it worse: each time I jolted awake in sweat, half a scream in my throat, I was often greeted by another sort of heartbreak. I heard Mother and Father arguing in the night. As war began, it was only a matter of time before the price of food soared beyond our means.

“We need money,” Mother told Father. “We need food and firewood, and we need to stock up on rice and grains before the war reaches the farmlands and the emperor starts conscripting soldiers again.”

“You worry too much. Lan is just a small nation with a small army and small coffers. They stand no chance against Rong.”

“Lu-mawho sells noodles in the market said—”

“Who is Lu-mato know? I am a first-rank minister. I have met the generals who patrol the borders, seen their armies with my own eyes. Lan doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Youwerea first-rank minister, husband.”

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