Page 8 of The Nightblood Prince

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.”

6

“A toast, to victory!” A voice broke the buzzing chatter and crackling flames. Cheers followed. Sweet winter wine spilled from raised cups, trickling down the delicate hands of Rong’s most revered heirs, all hubris and greed, coated over bitter resentment and centuries of blood debts between dynasties. Each boy was posturing, angling to be the most important person in the room after Siwang. And while the girls flashed hints of demure smiles behind their sleeves, I knew they were as ambitious as the boys.

The feasts held before the hunt were always small and intimate—as intimate as any feasts with a hundred guests and twice as many servants could get, at least.

This year was busier than most. The emperor had invited guests from every tribute state to witness our empire’s military talents. To remind them that if any of them dared to rebel, this was what they would go up against.

And while the emperor held court with the adults to discuss moredelicate politics, it was Siwang’s responsibility to entertain their children.

I had overheard the emperor tell Siwang:They are the future of your empire, son. Get to know them, build relationships, most of all, seek out their weaknesses and let them know you are the alpha. You are power. You are the heir of the greatest empire this continent will ever see. Be human, be charming, but don’t let any of them forget who you are.

Fifty-something young adults, from teens to early twenties, sat organized in two rows of low tables positioned along the fire pits, where the empire’s finest cooks sweated over sizzling meats and seasoned stews. Delicacies brought from every corner of the empire, expertly crafted concoctions of flavors served on golden plates.

How far the Rong dynasty had come since impoverished winters and being bullied by the southern warlords.

Without the supervision of parents, the air was light, the conversation abundant, and the laughter louder. However, this was not an innocent gathering. This was a game of power.

Siwang sat at the head of the formation, atop a dais that elevated him above the rest of us.

The girls threw longing looks, and so did the men. His favor was what they all sought. A prize more precious than even the Beiying tiger. And the closer someone sat to Siwang, the higher they were in this hierarchy.

“How do you like the food, Fei?” Siwang asked. While the room watched him, his eyes were on me, seated at the table to his immediateleft.

I stopped pushing the thin cuts of cabbage and mutton around the plate and forced a sweet smile for him. My stomach was nauseatedwith nerves, and the only things that looked appetizing were the lamb skewers being smoked over the fires, sprinkled with cumin and chili flakes and drizzled with oil so that every bite would be juicy and flavorful. My favorite, which just happened to be one of the many things deemed too unladylike for noble girls to eat in public. And the meat didn’t taste the same once they were torn from their skewers and served in bowls. The satisfaction was in ripping it from the skewer with my teeth.

“Congratulations to our empire!” someone cheered from farther down the tables in a naked attempt to get Siwang’s attention. “Fulin is the last major stronghold of the northwest. All that’s left between us and the barren ice lands are a few puny dynasties whose armies are no more than glorified farmers. Soon Rong will rule over the great north without contest! And Your Highness will be one step closer to fulfilling the prophecy as the emperor of all emperors!”

“The emperor of all emperors!” another voice cheered in response.

“The emperor of all emperors!”

“The emperor of all emperors!”

“The emperor of all emperors!”

That is not the prophecy,I wanted to remind them.

“To the greatest army in all of An’Lu!” Someone else raised his cup of wine, and more hollers followed.

I quietly raised my cup. It would be bad manners not to go along with a toast, though familiar irritations pricked under my skin.

What was there to be congratulated about? Another city besieged and burned, with its survivors shouldering hefty tax increases to fund the emperor’s next conquest? Had any of these men been to the front lines, witnessed the cruelty of war with their own eyes, seen how corpses littered those streets?

These nightmares haunted me. Emaciated bodies curled small against rubble where their homes had once stood. I could still smell the burning of flesh as our soldiers launched fireballs over the city walls to destroy what remained of their homes and drive the already hungry and desperate into surrendering.

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