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Xifeng often felt as though her eyes, nose, and mouth were all separate entities instead of parts of a whole—possessions whose worth Guma assessed, like pearls and combs and silks. Who would endure more pain if she broke her nose or scratched her eye—herself, or Guma?
“You’ll be safer in the palace.” Her aunt’s voice held the same fear as when she had seen the volume of poetry.
Xifeng remembered Guma falling to her knees the night before, pleading hands outstretched. “Who was the man I saw in the vision?” Three words appeared in her mind, but she dared not say them aloud:the Serpent God.Guma had spoken the phrase once many years ago, when Xifeng had woken from a nightmare and described what she had seen.
“He’s someone you would do better to forget.” Guma swiftly changed the subject. “The spirits of magic only give hints and instructions through the cards. It is for you to take your destiny in your hands. If the Emperor won’t send for you, you must go yourself.”
Xifeng sipped her broth. Away from the plumes of incense, the notion of becoming Empress seemed ridiculous once more.But why should it?she asked herself. Thanks to Guma, she had better than a lady’s education, and she was certainly beautiful enough.
“I will finish the pink silk by myself today. Brush your hair, wash your face, and take some air this morning. You look haggard,” Guma said distastefully, shuffling toward the door. “And cover your head from thesun. We can’t have you getting as dark as a common farm girl if you’re to go to the palace. The Empress and her ladies never have to go out into the sun.”
Xifeng rubbed her bruised forehead and rose from her pallet with a wince. The basin of water confirmed that she did look ill, so she scrubbed her face well and pinched her cheeks to make them pink. The problem with her looks was that people expected her to maintain them, Guma most of all. Any careless morning in which she did not wash or brush her hair properly, and she would be deemed lazy or slatternly.
She felt better as soon as she stepped into the cool spring air. The sky shone bright blue, rinsed clean by the rain, and the town bustled with activity.
The couple downstairs had thrown open their teahouse doors, and several customers sat bickering about who owed whom in a misguided bet. Two elderly men squatted outside, smoking, and stopped talking to ogle her. One of them released the contents of his nose onto the cobblestones, and she turned away in disgust, only to see a woman empty her chamber pot in front of her house, forcing her small son to squeal and jump out of the way.
Xifeng strolled toward the square, making a mental list of the things she would never have to see again if she managed to get to the palace. The butcher’s assistant, who had a limp and a lazy eye and still dared to lick his lips at her. The apothecary’s wife beating their servant again, on the pretext that the girl was inefficient when everyone knew it was because the apothecary had taken a shine to her. The delivery men scratching their private parts before digging their hands into tubs of flour and rice that would be sold to families for their supper.
“Good morning toyou,” leered a man coming out of the bathhouse. “What, too high and mighty to return a friendly greeting?”
“What’s the matter with you?” his friend hissed at him. “Do you want Wei to kill you?”
She kept her eyes forward, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Some days, she didn’t mind the attention. But today, the card reading still preyed on her mind and she longed to be alone to think, far from the scrutiny of Guma and the townspeople. She turned her steps toward the rolling hills that hugged the edge of the Great Forest, wishing she had a palanquin to hide in like the new concubine.
Soon, the crowd thinned and the only people she came across were women carrying their washing from the river. A fencing demonstration was taking place on the adjacent field, and Xifeng shaded her eyes to see two men parrying with swords that flashed in the sunlight. They stopped, switched weapons, and continued more slowly. She recognized the craftsman for whom Wei worked, perhaps testing a new blade with a customer. Which meant that Wei was nearby...
Xifeng caught her breath when she saw him. He was bare chested today, gleaming with sweat from fencing. His tawny arms were etched with black markings, ones he had insisted the blacksmith give him with a blade lit by fire, to match those of soldiers in the fierce southern armies. Any girl would have gladly laid down her virtue for him, but he belonged toher.
His fate entangled with hers—only hers.
She stepped onto the field with a pressing need to breathe the same air he did. He turned to respond curtly to someone beside him, and that was when she noticed Ning.
She had seen those movements from the girl too often lately: the flutter of those tilting eyes, head turning coyly over one shoulder, wrists twirling to hide her teeth as she laughed. Wei was dismissive with her, but she behaved as though they were on the brink of courtship.
The ground seemed to tilt beneath Xifeng, and a great rushing sound began in her ears.
Not again, please,she begged, standing stock-still, thinking of what had happened last night that she could not remember—and of the serpent man shedidrecall. There was a twisting deep in the center of her body, like a creature curving around her heart. And then the anger came.
The field flickered in and out of sight, and another image took its place: the swamps on the southern edge of town. If it was a dream, it felt as real as life. She heard the squelching of mud beneath her feet as she walked. She took in the scent of damp earth and felt a veil of gnats brush her face. Ning followed close behind as Xifeng led her into the maze of festering gray water.
The creature inside brandished its fangs with delight. Xifeng felt a flash of lidless eyes like beady jewels. It, too, knew what lay hiding in the reeds and the mists: a frame of rope stretched over sturdy branches of cypress and two rows of deadly wooden teeth. Each spike was the length of Xifeng’s arm from elbow to shoulder and had been sharpened to a fine point.
Stop it,Xifeng pleaded.I don’t want to see this.
But this was a waking vision, not a dream from which she could rouse herself. And some secret part of her rejoiced at the sight of the alligator trap gaping for prey. She bent down as to a lover, stepping aside so Ning could approach, the blanket of grass slicking wet kisses against her skin. And then the girl stepped on the trigger rope and the trap snapped shut, stilling the air around them. Even the birds went silent.
Ning screamed—or was it the creature?—and Xifeng felt horror and anguish and obscene joy at the sight of her collapsing on top of her destroyed legs. She held her shaking hand above the mess of flesh andwhite bone, feeling the warmth that still radiated from the girl’s broken body. From deep within her, the voice spoke.
She will never again look at what belongs to us.
“No,” Xifeng moaned aloud.
She will never again want what is ours.
“No!” she shouted, heart surging. When she lifted her head, the swamp was gone. She was kneeling on the field with everyone watching her, the men with their swords limp at their sides, the women openmouthed, Ning’s face stunned and her legs whole and intact.
And Wei himself crouched before her, hands on either side of her head, lips repeating her name. Still Xifeng could not respond, and without another word he scooped her up into his arms and carried her away from the crowd of shocked faces.
