Page 73 of A Song to Drown Rivers
Silence. The commotion outside only seemed to grow louder by contrast, screams cutting through the night, orders shouted down the open courtyards and narrow corridors. Torches flashed past the windows, guards sent out one after the other, their armor rattling. The air felt too hot, too sticky, closing in. I could smell something burned.
Without meaning to, my fingers tightened over Fuchai’s arm, digging into his robes.
“We have to escape,” Fuchai said, as if coming out of a daze. He spoke clearly, with forced calm. “It isn’t safe here anymore—”
There’s nowhere to hide, I thought in my head, though of course I couldn’t say it.Fanli would have every exit covered. Even if we leave, he’ll send his men after you and track you down in days.
“Your carriage has already been prepared,” the guard said in a rush. His eyes kept darting to the doors. The footsteps were getting louder, approaching from both sides. I heard the scrape of sword against sword, frantic yells—then thethudof bodies hitting the ground. “Leave now and—”
“Your Majesty!” The doors burst open again, but this time it was a servant that came stumbling in. There was something off about him, not quite in proportion. My stomach gave an awful lurch when I realized what it was. His left hand had been severed.Reduced to a mangled stump. Blood gushed from it, soaking the floors. When he knelt and bowed, it was only with one arm. He wobbled, fought to maintain his balance, his face bleached white.
Even from here, the sharp scent of rust filled my nose. I thought I might be sick.
“Please—do not forget,” he gasped, each word pained, blood gurgling in his throat. I finally recognized him. He was the reminder Fuchai had appointed. “Do not forget… your father’s… dying wish. Do not forget… the Yue—”
And then he crumpled. I watched, a new dread blooming inside me, like a flowering wound. I had caused this. I was the harbinger of death, of everyone’s demise within these walls.
Fuchai was tugging at my arm. His voice in my ear. “Leave him. Let’s go.”
Numbly, I gathered my robes around myself, my cloak pulled up over my hair, and followed him out the side door, flanked by a group of guards. The points of their halberds gleamed around us like gathered stars. I refused to look at their faces; soon they would be gone too. Someone barked out orders, words of warning.Head straight to… Whatever you do, do not stop… You’ll be safe…I nodded along, my mind buzzing. But at the exit, I faltered. I could still hear the maids screaming from within the palace walls. Would our soldiers spare them? Or kill them all?
It chilled me to realize that I had not given it much thought.
“Wait,” I said. “Bring Xiaomin with us.”
Fuchai frowned at me, uncomprehending. “Xiaomin?”
“We must go, my lady,” one of the guards urged me. The screams grew louder, sharper, whittling into pleas. “There’s not enough time—”
“The maid,” I insisted. “Please. Make sure she comes too.”
“Just do as she says,” Fuchai told them, and only when the guards nodded did I let him guide me outside.
The night air stung my skin. It smelled strange, unnatural, like metal and leather and horsehide. Like war. The scene was too dark to be distinct—a relief for my conscience—just black shadows tangled together. It was impossible to tell enemy from ally. But every now and then the torchlight would flash, and the horrors would be thrown into sharp relief: a young face, twisted in pain; a torso with an arrow pierced through it, carrying flesh through to the other side; hair and armor matted with patches of dark blood; a mouth ripped open in a soundless scream.Suffering, no matter how or where you looked, no matter who these people fought for.
My stomach churned. And who did they fight for? Goujian. Fuchai. Two kings, born into power, twin sides of a knife. One who was awaiting news of his victory from a safe distance, the other who was fleeing.
The soldiers flowed in from the gates, their bronze plates and helmets gleaming together like a dark, unwinding river, one that extended from the beginning to the end of the world. I saw the banner of Yue fluttering from one soldier’s hand, the Wu flag trampled under countless feet. A cold sweat sprang up over my skin.
This is how kingdoms fall, I thought, but I didn’t feel as victorious as I’d imagined. My heart was too heavy, a solid stone in my chest.
We were closer to the conflict than ever, and a familiar face burned in my view. General Ma. He was fighting five men at the same time, his sword lashing out. For a few seconds, he appeared to be winning; he thrust the blade into one man’s stomach, then sent another crashing down with one blunt kick to the knee.
He was freeing his sword when an arrow shot through his chest.
It was that quick: a blink, a rush of shape and sound. He didn’t seem to believe it himself. When he looked down at the shaft protruding from his heart, he wore the same expression of incredulity he’d worn when Zhengdan had beaten him in that duel.
As his body fell silently in the crowd, all I could think was:Zhengdan should’ve been here to witness it.
“Be careful, Lady Xishi,” a guard whispered, his shield raised above my head, urging me along as if I had not just watched someone die. He had a kind face, his cheeks full, his eyes round and long-lashed. “Watch your step. We’re almost there.”
I could barely hear him over all the screaming, the scraping metal. The sounds of splintered bone. It felt like I was moving underwater in a dream sequence, like nothing was real. I had only been trained for the prelude to this, for the catalyst, not the consequences.
Then the guard inhaled sharply. The whites of his eyes shone.
That was all I saw before he collapsed right beside me, a spear twisted into his side. I didn’t even have time to react, to grieve. Another guard immediately stepped in to take his place, his back bared to the incoming soldiers.
“Don’t be scared.” Fuchai had grabbed my hand and didn’t let go until we were escorted through the cover of a corridor, and then inside the prepared carriage. The horses were already pawing the ground, their nostrils flaring, uneasiness rippling through their muscles.
