Page 48 of A Song to Drown Rivers
“Truly?”
“It’s even better than what I’d imagined. It’s a place of dreams.”
A wide smile flashed over his lips, and he led me forward by the hand. Everywhere I turned was some new wonder, some great marvel: marbled chambers and precious stones and mother-of-pearl columns and the most ornate bronze wares forged from new flame, flocks of white swans and peacocks drifting over the neatly cut lawns. Their feathers fell like snow.
“Since you like it, can you do me a favor?” Fuchai said. The chambers were so vast that his voice echoed.
I played coy, as usual. “Depends on what it is.”
“Will you dance for me right now?” He made the request almost shyly.
“But there is no music,” I said, laughing.
“There is. I had it prepared.” He gestured to a corner I had notpaid attention to yet, and indeed there were already instrumentalists setting up, guqins gleaming in the light, flutes and drums all ready.
And so I danced. My slender arms moved in graceful circles, like the swans taking flight around me, my feet soundless and nimble over the stone. I was in perfect control of my body, every limb and muscle, and as the music swelled, I felt—not happy, never quite that. But accomplished. The sun shone down on my face and Fuchai gazed on, as if everything in the world had dissolved and he would gladly relinquish anything, except me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The training grounds lay flat and serene in thewinter chill. The dirt was bright red, the sky behind it a deep blue; together, it looked as if the horizon had been sliced in two. The palace’s best soldiers were lined up from one end of the open arena to another, their faces pink from the cold, hands gripping their swords. All stared straight ahead. They must have been freezing, yet they did not shiver, did not even waver from their positions.
But up high in the raised wooden stands, next to the king and the other concubines and palace ladies, I was warm. We were provided refreshments at five-minute intervals, and we were all dressed in the thickest coats. A hearty fire blazed below, its heat rising up to us in waves.
“This is always the most entertaining event of the year,” Fuchai was explaining as he absently stroked the back of my hand. We sat at the very front, with the best view of the soldiers. Even our seats were well cushioned. “There are prizes on the line: gold, promotions,better equipment. But of course, the real thing everyone is fighting for is honor. Watch.”
A gong sounded.
The soldiers broke formation and moved into a wide circle as two men stepped forward into the center. The air seemed to change, to tighten, crackling with tension. The contestants were both young, their chins still smooth, and the way they moved reminded me of the yearlings raised in the palace stables, all that raw energy and rippling muscle.
I barely managed to catch the moment when the first soldier drew his sword. It was just the rushing of silver, a blade of light. The sword clashed with the other in midair. There was a violent scraping sound before both stepped back, panting.
Yet mere seconds later, the soldier attacked again, charging forward this time with his sword raised. Dust flew from his heels, picking up in billowing red clouds. His body was a blur; light flashed off his armor. With a grunt, he swung all his weight into his next strike, his sword streaking through the air. Metal clanged. The second soldier caught the blow in his shoulder. He staggered, his sword arm shaking.
Cheers rose from the crowd.
“Is… that all?” I asked. “Has he won?”
Fuchai just smiled. “Keep watching.”
The injured soldier seemed to sense the king’s attention on him. His face burned crimson. Then he gritted his teeth and ran—tackling the other man to the ground. Thethudof their bodies was so loud I could feel it in my own bones, but neither slowed. Their swords lay discarded in the dust. Now they were simply exchanging brutal punches, fists slamming repeatedly into flesh. One of them turned and spat out something thick and red with a white fragment mixed inside it. It looked like a tooth.
“Ah, see?” Fuchai tilted his head. “It’s only just begun.”
The cheers grew louder, but there was a cold churning in my belly, a sickness crawling up the back of my throat. It was difficult to forget that these were likely the very same soldiers who had invaded our lands, killed our men. The fight was so—violent. Ruthless. The first soldier was straddling the other, driving his fist again and again into the man’s jaw while he squirmed, fighting for release. Seconds later, I heard the distinct crack of bone.
The concubines and palace ladies gasped in unison, but no matter where I looked, everyone was watching with glee. Everyone except Zhengdan, who was seated just behind us. Her face was tense, her brows pinched together.
She was not staring at the fight, but at General Ma in the corner.
A hoarse cry pulled my attention back to the soldiers. The current victor was grinding the heel of his boot into the other man’s stomach, his expression one of cold satisfaction. For a moment, in the shifting light and shadow, he looked exactly like the man who had stormed into our house. Who had cut Susu open, left her to bleed out on the floor—
Fuchai’s touch on my hand suddenly felt like ice. But I couldn’t pull away on my own, not without reason. I turned around and spotted Lady Yu sitting in the back, sheltered under a painted umbrella. Despite the dust swirling around the training grounds, she was wearing a set of pristine peach-pink robes, her makeup as impeccable as ever, highlighting the fullness of her lips and the round goose-egg curve of her face.
We were trained to sense other people’s attention. At once, she returned my gaze, her expression more curious than venomous. It posed a question:Do you remember our agreement?
Of course I did. Lady Yu’s family was a crucial part of my plan.
“Fuchai,” I murmured, dropping my voice close to his ear. Below us, the soldiers’ cries and grunts continued, like that of animals in pain. “Fuchai, doesn’t Lady Yu look beautiful today?”
