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“I heard what you said,” he said, his eyes glistening.
She drank in his gaze, for he was looking at her like she was home at the end of a long day. She felt as breathless as if she had run a great distance, and exhilarated and overwhelmed and shy. “And you’ll forgive me for everything?”
“There’s nothing left to forgive,” Bao told her, with the kindness she now knew was as much a part of his gentle soul as his music. And then, weak as he was, weary and drained of blood as he was, he lifted his head and kissed her. His lips were ice-cold, but Lan kept her hands on either side of his face and kissed him harder. Something like a warm summer wind rose from the bamboo flute, but Lan kept holding on, and slowly Bao’s mouth grew warm beneath hers.
“I love you, too,” he said, muffled against her kiss, and she pulled away to see him beaming up at her. His eyes grew bright and vibrant again, and his skin pink and full of life. When she touched the bamboo flute in his hands, it was as cold as he had been a moment earlier.
They looked at each other for a long, silent moment, and then theyboth broke down into tears. Bao wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face into his neck and wept and wept. Lan knew that at that very moment a great battle raged outside the walls of the city. But she didn’t care.
All she cared about was that she had found a home for her heart at last, and she would never let him go.
23
The smell of war hung in the air as Bao and Lan hurried out of the infirmary, hand in hand. Behind them, the patients called out querulously and the workers magicked by the witch were recovering, but Bao was focused on the scene before them. Iron lanterns glowed all around the poppy garden, making it look malignant and otherworldly as the acrid scent of smoke, rubble, and death circled the ravaged bushes in a dense fog. The place was teeming with soldiers: men in the shining armor of the Great Forest, the Sacred Grasslands, and Dagovad, and the black-garbed women of the Crimson Army, their lips blood-red beneath their sheer masks. They bent over fallen allies, tied up prisoners, cleared away broken stone and shattered trees to make paths, and pulled up every last remaining plant by the roots, to be burned in massive piles.
An enormous hole gaped in the wall separating the garden from the outer districts, giving Bao a clear view of the wreckage: blackened buildings, some still aflame; people running through columns of smoke;overturned wagons and destroyed goods; and bodies everywhere. The Gray City lay in ruins, exhaling plumes of devastation into the night sky.
Bao was more than familiar with the tang of sweat and blood and vomit in his line of work, but seeing the absolute horror that humans could enact upon their own kind made him physically recoil. “It’s over. Vy lost, as she knew she would,” he said, heartache and relief warring within him. This battle and defeat were inevitable and necessary to rid Feng Lu of his family’s bloody legacy. For centuries, the Gray City had bided its time like a poisonous mushroom while weaker kings turned a blind eye, and it had grasped for power under the guise of benevolence and humanity. Yet Bao couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss.
“It’s all right to be sad,” Lan told him softly, arms tightening around him. “I feel it, too.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to see if I can help,” he said, hurrying over to a group of Crimson Army warriors. His throat didn’t clench at leaving Lan’s side, but he felt her absence just the same. He searched the warriors’ faces for Wren as they carried several fallen soldiers to a cleared space by the wall, but did not see her. “What can I do?”
“Whatever you see that needs to be done. There are supplies on that wagon if you need them,” one of the women answered, before hurrying off.
He hurried over to the wagon, which had clearly been lifted from the infirmary and contained bottles of ointment, splints, needles and thread, buckets of clean water, and cloths. He grabbed what he needed and got to work, helping those who had suffered the greatest injuries. He set bones and stitched wounds almost mechanically, feeling grateful for the years of training he had received from Master Huynh. Lan had found Lord Nguyen safe and unharmed, and the two of them stayed close to Bao, assisting him when he needed it and giving blankets and water to the injured soldiers.
Someone knelt beside him as he finished dressing a wound. “The river witch!” he exclaimed, recognizing her face. She looked different from when he had seen her last: stronger and healthier, her narrow eyes ablaze with purpose under her cloud of stark-white hair.
“That’s Huong to you,” the woman said tartly. “I may not have been there for most of your life, but I am still your aunt, and you should show me some respect.” Her eyes fell upon Lan’s charm hanging from his neck. “I owe you an apology, Bao. I punished you when I wanted to hurt someone else. I’m truly glad that you broke the spell.”
Bao searched within himself for anger, but could not find it, for in the weeks he had spent looking for this woman, he had found something precious instead. “I forgive you,” he said, and realized that he meant it. “And truthfully, it was Lan who broke the spell.”
They turned to watch her and Lord Nguyen working together on one of the soldiers, wiping his forehead and tucking a blanket around his shivering body. “I wouldn’t have gotten out of your mother’s dungeon without Lan’s help,” Huong said, smirking. “She and Lady Yen helped free me by jumping into the sewer in human filth up to their knees.”
Lan came over to them for more water, and Bao grinned at her, she of the silk slippers and gold hairpins. “The daughter of a king’s minister wading through a sewer?” he asked.
“Sometimes, the daughter of a king’s minister does what she can with what she has,” Lan replied haughtily, and returned to the soldier. It took all of Bao’s willpower not to throw himself at her and kiss her right then and there.
“I see Vy got a bit of blood from you, too,” the witch said softly, laying her hand upon his elbow, which was still wrapped in bloody cloth. She shut her eyes for a moment, her lips forming imperceptible words, and when she looked back at Bao, the pain and itching from the cuts Vy hadmade were gone. “Strange how much I wanted to see her fall and the city destroyed, and now that it has happened, I feel more empty than overjoyed.”
“I feel the same,” Bao admitted, with a heavy sigh. “Where is she?”
Huong’s eyes slid past him, and he turned to see two soldiers of the Great Forest marching a prisoner out of the infirmary, followed by a short, powerfully built man with a blue-black beard. The woman’s hands were bound tightly behind her, but still she held her head high like a queen, her eyes flashing as she surveyed the destruction. Mistress Vy’s gaze landed on her sister and her son, and slowly they rose and came to meet her.
“I am General Yee, the Commander’s second in command,” said the bearded man, regarding Huong and Bao with keen eyes. “We found this woman hiding in a secret room on the upper level of the infirmary. Commander Wei gave me the power to order her immediate execution as a treasonous criminal, but she claims she is your kin. I felt it right to allow you a chance to speak before she meets her fate.”
“Thank you, General,” Huong said, her eyes never leaving her sister.
Vy lifted her chin. “So, you made it out at last. I suppose I shouldn’t have doubted you. You’ve proven before what a slippery snake you are. And I see that my son managed to survive the curse you laid upon him.” Her heavy-lidded gaze moved to Bao, and he forced himself to face her without flinching. “I’m surprised to see you both so solemn and not celebrating my defeat.”
“We are your only living family,” Bao said, startled by the ferocity in his own voice. “For better or for worse, you are mymother. The fact that you think I should be joyful about seeing you brought low and your city razed to the ground shows that you know nothing about me.”
“Save your breath, nephew,” the witch told him. “She has alwaysbelieved other people to be as callous and petty as she herself is. She doesn’t understand pity or compassion.”
Vy spat at her sister’s face. “Save your pity and compassion. And if you’re hoping for a flowery apology or explanation, I have none. I fought for what I believed in. I kept my people happy and upheld my family’s values, and when I die, I will have lived my life for a noble cause. How have you lived yours? Bitterly, with your tail tucked between your legs like the coward you are. I sought to save all of humanity, and you sought to soothe your wounded pride.”
“You speak the truth,” Huong said, wiping her face. “But I would rather die a coward than a self-righteous murderer. Everything you’ve said sounds a lot like the nonsense Xifeng spouted when she was trying to justify the means by which she secured her rule.”
