Silver Phoenix (46 page)

Cindy Pon

Heat flared in Ai Ling’s pendant. The woman, encased in a blinding white blaze, was lifted and flung to the back of the room. She landed with a hard thud against the throne, the dagger skidding across the stone fl oor.

“You pathetic little newt!” she screamed in a shrill voice.

“You can’t hurt me.”

Ai Ling fell to her knees, and the room grew bright and bleary around the edges. Pain seared through her gut. She began to tremble, feeling both hot and cold.

“Why was I not invited to the festivities?” A rich male voice echoed through the hall.

Ai Ling saw him through a long tunnel. A lone figure in the doorway. She could see nothing but him, the smallest detail illuminated as if he were immersed in a shaft of sunlight.

He wore a deep slate robe with gold trim around the collar and sleeves. He walked to her with command and authority, and Ai Ling blinked, willing herself to stay conscious. He stood a hand width away from her. Her eyesight wavered, the elaborate gold embroidering on the edge of his robe blurring. She smelled the faint scent of spiced cologne.

“What games do you play, Gui Xin? You thought you could dispose of my true love right beneath my nose?” He looked over his shoulder at the woman who rose to her feet, apparently unhurt.

“Silver Phoenix was weak. She was no love match for you,”

Gui Xin said.

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“Heal her.” Ai Ling heard the annoyance in his voice. Her head ached from a dull ringing in her ears. She clutched at her wound, felt the sticky warmth of blood between her fi ngers.

“You were nothing beyond a temporary consort,” he said.

“You think too highly of yourself.”

“I learned from the best,” the woman replied in her lilting voice. “Do you truly believe I spent the last century merely pleasing you in the bedchamber? Embroidering?”

Gui Xin laughed.

Someone crouched close to Ai Ling, gently shifted her arm to place a hand across her stomach. A searing heat erupted at the touch. She gasped and felt her entire being shudder violently against the cold fl oor.

“Ai Ling!” Chen Yong. A clatter of steel and plate reverberated through the hall.

“Stay back, fool. He heals her,” the other man said.

Ai Ling watched through tear-filled eyes as the small head bent over her stomach. The child nodded in satisfaction.

He had no eyes; the sockets were filled with dark sapphire stones. She realized then that this was no child, but a person of short stature. He smiled at her, the sapphires glittering in the lantern light.

He then stood to his full height, the size of a child of fi ve years, and strode away with such confi dence one never would have guessed he could not see. Ai Ling drew another deep breath; was drained, but not in pain. She sat up, and the world spun momentarily.

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“Silver Phoenix never loved you.” Gui Xin glided toward them. “I can’t believe you are such a romantic fool, Zhong Ye.”

Ai Ling’s heart lurched. She wanted to scream, run from him. She jabbed her nails into bloodied palms. He stood too near, unmoving.

“I’ve subjugated legions of demons, made them do my bidding. Your precious Silver Phoenix would be dead again, cast back into the underworld, if she hadn’t proven to be so . . . lucky.” Gui Xin paused in front of them, so close Ai Ling could see the individual gold threads of her sheath.

Zhong Ye tilted his head. “You talk too much.”

Ai Ling watched as if removed from her own self. She turned to see Chen Yong, surrounded by the faceless guards.

He met her gaze.

She had led him into this. She would cry now, if she had the strength.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have targeted your true love.” Her melodic voice did not diminish her sarcasm. “Perhaps I should have aimed higher.”

A movement from the back of the chamber caught Ai Ling’s eye. The dagger Gui Xin had used to stab her rose into the air and flew like a silver streak toward Zhong Ye.

Before she could grasp what was happening, the dagger erupted in a plume of dust a few feet from him.

“You surprise me, Gui Xin,” Zhong Ye said. His expres-264

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sion and stance had never changed. “You’re smarter than I thought . . . and more naive as well.”

He raised a hand. Two guards strode forward and caught Gui Xin by both arms, intent on dragging her out. The same guards who had been at her bidding just moments before.

But two men were not enough. She thrashed on the floor.

Two other guards grasped her by each leg, and hoisted her off the ground like a sow going to slaughter.

She writhed even then, in midair. A green sheen flared around her, and the guards let go, yelping. Ai Ling smelled burned fl esh.

Gui Xin stood, smoothing her hands over her sheath.

“Don’t be a fool, Zhong Ye. Reconsider.”

A green glow still rippled about her. The guards stood at a distance, wary.

“No.” Zhong Ye spoke in a quiet voice so filled with threat that Ai Ling shuddered. “Accept your fate, Gui Xin.”

“Like you accept yours?” Her smile was cutting.

The green glow suddenly evaporated with a faint buzz.

Gui Xin’s head snapped back, and she gasped, the cords of her neck standing taut.

“Kill her,” he ordered the guards.

They picked her up and she was stiff, rigid as a plank. The room spun as her rabid screaming reverberated through the hall.

“Wait.” Zhong Ye raised one hand. Gui Xin had the sense to quiet herself.

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“Don’t burn all of her.” Zhong Ye smiled coldly. “She can dwell forever with the restless spirits of the underworld.”

Gui Xin gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. “I’ll meet you there, Zhong Ye. You cannot live forever.”

He waved the guards away, and turned from her without another glance. He kneeled down beside Ai Ling and caressed her cheek. She flinched. “My blind one healed you,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

She stared into gray eyes. His hair was black, streaked with silver and plaited in a long queue. His eyebrows were so light they were nearly indistinguishable on his pale face.

She willed herself to hold his gaze. And a sense of recognition sent terror ricocheting through her. Zhong Ye released her with gentle hands.

“You finally return to me.” He paced across the hard floor without sound, the fl aps of his ornate robe whispering with each step.

Ai Ling felt light-headed. She tried to raise her hand to touch her wound, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place—just as Gui Xin had been. Her heart thumped harder against her chest. She took a breath, felt hysteria welling within her. She looked toward Chen Yong, who stood rigid, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. He was bound as well.

She fought the urge to scream, to sob.

Zhong Ye slipped a hand inside his tunic, drawing out a long piece of red silk. A breast binder. He raised the fabric to his nose and breathed deep. “To think you hanged 266

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yourself with this on our wedding night, Silver Phoenix.”

He fingered the delicate material. “I’ve waited over two centuries for you to come back to me, love.”

“My name is Ai Ling.”

He smiled. His brows lifted ever so slightly as he approached her, tucking the piece of fabric back into his robe. “Yes. And to think Master Wen brought you into this world. I nearly had him executed.” He chuckled.

“Fate amuses me. Who knew my worst enemy would be the one to bring my love back?” He raised his hand and stroked her cheek again. She jerked her head away, wanted to step back, but she could not move.

“You’re taller in this life. Not so womanly in shape. But still beautiful, if in a different way.” His hand glided down to her shoulder, the palm clasping the back of her neck. His fi ngers massaged the roots of her hair.

She didn’t realize her one braid had been freed until her hair floated around her face, settling against her neck and cascading across her chest. But Zhong Ye had not touched the ribbon that bound her hair. He had somehow loosened her braid without his hands. Ai Ling bit her lip until she tasted blood, mortified that she stood with her hair loose in front of Chen Yong and this stranger who spoke to her like a lover.

“Still beautiful indeed. And still untouched.” He smiled, pale lips drawn over perfect teeth. “Yes, I can sense it. You are pure. My fruit to pluck and taste.”

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