The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) (28 page)

I could not watch anymore. Straightening, I glanced at Taizi one last time before I took a step back, but I froze. Pheasant was there, standing next to him.

“Go away, go away!” Taizi hollered. “It’s all your fault!”

Pheasant’s shoulders slumped. He murmured something and tried to hold his brother’s shoulders, but he pushed him aside. “You’re a traitor. Traitor! I hate you. I hate you. Stay away from me!”

Pheasant’s hands dropped, tears mapping his handsome face.

Then he ran.

My heart wrenched. I turned around, searching for him. His head appeared and disappeared above the crowd around me, and I shifted behind the people to keep track of him. Finally, I pushed aside the servants, eunuchs, and ladies, ignored their frowns, and ran after him.

I found him in a garden at the back of the bedchamber, where he held a branch and slashed at the air like a madman.

“Pheasant,” I called.

“What?” He threw away the branch. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on?” I walked closer to him.

He sat down on a rock. “He saw me come in with Father. He thought I had betrayed him. I didn’t! I was trying to stop Father!”

“Perhaps you can explain to him later.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to warn him when Father came, but he didn’t hear. He’s never going to forgive me, and now…” He buried his head in his hands. “Now his favorite boy is dead. Do you think I wanted that?”

His voice was hoarse, and his shoulders trembled. I could not stand to watch him like that.

I put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Pheasant.”

He buried his head in my gown. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. I could feel his frustration, his helplessness, and his sadness rise to touch me, tap my own well of grief, and make me part of him. I held him tighter. I wanted to tell him that tomorrow things would be fine and that tomorrow Taizi would forgive him. I even wanted to tell him I would like to meet him in the garden again.

Footsteps sounded behind me. I raised my head. The Emperor’s golden regalia. I dropped my arms and shrank from Pheasant.

It was too late.

He lunged toward me and slapped me. The force sent me spinning. I tried to grab the stone lamp near the tree, but I slipped and crashed against something behind me. Blackness cloaked me, and for a long moment, I could not see. I heard only voices. Many voices. Men’s. Women’s. Shouts. Gasps. Groans. Arguments.

“Father!” Pheasant’s voice was loud and desperate. “What are you doing?”

“Vile woman. How dare she seduce you!”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I saw her with my own eyes!” the Emperor bellowed. “She put her hands on you. What a wanton woman! She deserves to die!”

“You can’t!”

“Don’t you dare protect her!”

“It’s not what you think. It’s not! She didn’t seduce me. I did! I seduced her. She was unwilling. She didn’t wish to betray you.”

“You!”

“I am to blame. It is my fault. All mine! Punish me. Punish me, not her!”

I groaned. Pain erupted in my head, but I pushed against the ground, trying to rise. A group of women stepped away from me to stand beside the Emperor. I could not see their faces. Or were they women? They wavered before me like empty gowns.

“Guards!” The Emperor’s voice stabbed my heart. “Lash him. Twenty rods!”

Many legs flashed before me. They lengthened and transformed into full figures, hazy but menacing, and they rushed toward Pheasant and shoved him to the ground. Their arms raised high, their rods long and thick, they struck. A thud. Followed by a heavy groan. Another thud. Then another groan.

“Stop it, stop it,” I said.

But the awful sound continued, echoing, drowning out my voice, and there were waves of groans—thick, lingering, and painful—stabbing my heart. Then nothing.

“He passed out!” someone shouted.

I jerked. There. Pheasant, lying on the ground, the back of his white robe a splash of crushed rose petals.

“Take him to the physicians.” The Emperor’s golden robe stood before me. I shrank in fear. But I would have liked to follow Pheasant, to see him and hold his hands. I would have liked to call his name and let him know I was there. “Kneel.”

I struggled to rise. I could not feel my hands, feet, or knees. A salty taste burst in my mouth, and something wet dripped on my hand. I did not wipe it away. The Emperor was going to punish me. He would never forgive me. Everything was over.

“You shall never rise again.”

He strode away. Behind him trailed a group of women. One stopped, the corner of her small mouth pulled up. I blinked a few times before I realized who she was.

Rain.

This time, she had succeeded. She had followed me and chosen the perfect time to expose me and Pheasant. What else could I say? I had been careless. I had forgotten what kind of court I lived in.

Soon she left too.

At first, I could hear the whispers of Plum and the other attendants and the gasps of the servants. But soon, all faded. I was alone.

The sun, crawling to the middle of the heavenly dome, grasped me with its talons of brutal heat. By late afternoon, my vision blurred, and my knees felt ready to snap off my body. A harsh voice, from a eunuch who watched me, scolded me every time I slouched. Countless times, I collapsed sideways, and each time the voice berated me and forced me to keep my position.

The moon replaced the sun, and the sun returned. Still I knelt.

“Mei, Mei!”

Father’s voice. Faint but urgent.

I lifted my head. And there it was, its yellow, bulbous eyes locked on me. It had a striped torso, lean and majestic, its flinty paws clawing the grass. It stared at me from near the pine branch a few paces from me.

A tiger.

Time slowed. For a moment I looked into its eyes, unable to speak or move. How beautiful they were, the eyes of the powerful. It looked complacent, content, and arrogant, the epitome of beauty and supremacy. It did not appear to care about me, the forest, the sky, or anything around it. It was an animal that was used to killing and knew it could do it easily. It was a king who could always have his wish, a king who could never be defied. And it wanted me.

“Run, run now!”

Father’s voice tore through the forest and hit my ears. I turned around.

It was already before me, so fast I did not have time to scream. But then Father appeared, blocking me, his arms outstretched, a branch in his right hand. “Run! Now!”

I flew in the air instead, and a storm of tree branches, leaves, rocks, and clods of dirt whipped my face. Father’s voice chased me, followed by a deafening roar that shook the mountain. And then the ground slammed against me, all the sounds vanished, and the sky darkened. When I awoke, I went home alone, unable to recall anything.

Later, people found Father. He was caught on a pine tree on a cliff near my family’s grave site, a branch pierced through his chest. No one knew about the tiger or what happened to him, so Mother assumed that he had tripped, that it was an accident.

But kneeling there, I saw how Father really died. And I remembered everything.

• • •

The sky seemed to spin, and roof tiles fell like raindrops. A piece landed in my mouth. It tasted like dirt but smelled like fresh pine resin. I looked up.

Staring at me with yellow eyes, the tiger opened its mouth. “Caw, caw.”

My heart leaped to my throat. It had returned. I lurched forward to grab something but could not move my feet. It strutted toward me. One step. I shivered. Two. I wanted to scream.

Then it flapped its black wings and vanished above the tiled roof of a distant hall.

A crow.

Trembling, I closed my eyes.

• • •

“Calm down, Mei. Calm down,” a soft female voice said, and arms embraced me.

I tried to raise my head, but it felt so heavy. “Who is there?”

“Drink it.” A spoon touched my lips. A plump hand held my shoulder. The Noble Lady.

“My father…my father died to protect me, he died to protect me…” I said. I knew it, deep in my heart. All these years, I could not remember, but I had always known something was there, some unanswered question. Had he not died, my family would still be happy and thriving… I was responsible for Father’s death, for what happened to my family’s fortune, for Mother’s disappearance…

“What are you saying, Mei? Don’t talk, Mei. Don’t talk. Now, listen to me. Drink this. Slowly, yes. You’ll feel better. Look, you’re burning hot.”

I coughed. The liquid scalded my tongue. It tasted hard and bitter, like a piece of bark I chewed once in the woods with Father. We had spent so much time there, looking at our land, talking, feeling the breeze on our faces… I shook my head and pushed the spoon away.

“It’s rice porridge. It’s good for you. I’ll feed you. You can’t stay like this without food.” She patted my back.

Her touch was gentle, and I lowered my head obediently and sipped. It did not taste so bad, and soon the sweet flavor of rice porridge spread in my mouth.

“You must stay strong, Mei. You must hold yourself together. Do not give up. Hang on.” She squeezed my hand.

Then I remembered where I was and that I was being punished. “How long have I been here, my Noble Lady?”

My voice sounded coarse and old, like a sick, elderly woman who had not spoken for a hundred years.

She fed me another spoonful. “Today is the second day.”

It felt longer than that. “How is Pheasant?”

“He is well now. The physicians applied ointment to his back and bandaged him. They also gave him medicine so he could sleep. I think he’ll recover soon.” She lowered her head to study me. “Plum wanted to come and see you, but she is not allowed. What happened there?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I told you, Mei, to stay away from him.”

“I’m sorry.” I had failed her. I was so close, and I had failed. Again.

“I’m sorry too.” She put the spoon in the bowl. “You were doing so well. I wish I could do more. I pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

Hopelessly, I gazed at her. Did the Emperor really want me to kneel until my last breath?

“I’m afraid I ought to leave.” She dusted off her gown and rose.

“But…” I reached out to stop her, then my hand dropped in midair. I could not burden her. “That’s right…my Noble Lady. You must not make him angry with you.”

She sighed, waved to her servants, and left.

It was only me again. I slumped, staring at the ground. My eyes burned, my lips cracked and bled, and my back became hard and brittle, ready to snap. The ground seemed to do strange things. One moment it looked like a pile of white bones. Then it sank into a dark pit, and then again, it raced ahead like a wicked sandstorm.

The night would come soon. It would be the second night I had knelt. Would I ever see the morning light again?

So it was true. I had caused Father’s death, and that was why I had to do whatever I could to fulfill his wish. And indeed, I had had my chances. It was unlikely now…

After a while, I heard a man’s voice.

“Up now,” he said. “He pardoned you.”

I jolted upright. No more kneeling? “Why?”

“Don’t know.” He stood a few paces away. It was the Captain, the man with a patch of purple birthmark covering half of his face, who always did the Emperor’s bidding.

Waves of relief washed over me. I struggled to rise, but I was too weak. More determined, I pushed against the ground and hoisted myself up. I fell sideways. Panting, I steadied myself again and continued to struggle. But no matter how hard I tried, my knees would not straighten.

I could not stand.

I scratched my kneecaps. Nothing. I pinched my leg and twisted the skin hard. Nothing. I dug my fingernails into my skin. Nothing but a long, bloody trail on my leg.

I wanted to cry. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Let me help you.” He stepped closer.

“No.” I clenched my hands together. “May I borrow your sword?”

“A guard never parts with his sword.”

“Then stab me.” I pointed to my legs. “I cannot feel anything.”

He frowned. “It’s probably bad blood.”

“Bad blood?”

“You’ll never walk again.”

I glared at him. A sword man should be allowed to use only his sword, not words. Who did he think he was? Only a callous killer, that’s all he was.

“I’ll show you.” He took his dagger from his boot, squatted before me, and struck my kneecap with the end of the hilt.

I should have felt pain, and my leg should have responded.

But nothing. No pain. No response.

“See? Bad blood.”

I covered my face with my hands. He said something more, but I did not understand. A thought sprouted in my mind like a malicious weed. Unuttered, tenacious, and shapeless, it rooted in my head and grew bitter fruits of destruction.

I was a cripple.

Furiously, I clawed my skin and beat my legs.

“If your bad blood travels to your heart, you will not see the full moon this month,” he said. He sounded like he cared for me, but his voice was cold as usual.

“Go away.”

“I’ll give you a clean cut.” He put his hand on his sword. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“Go away!”

“You must decide fast.”

I would rather die than live as a cripple. With all the strength I could muster, I dragged myself to the edge of the garden. The stones on the ground rubbed against my raw skin, but I could not feel it. I continued to crawl. Finally, I sat in a corner and buried my head in my sleeves.

So quiet. Like death. I closed my eyes. Would I see Father soon? “I ruined everything,” I would confess when we met. “You were wrong about me.”

I drifted into sleep. When I awoke, night had descended. But there was no light from a candle or a lantern nearby. I looked around. I was alone, curled up in the corner like a forgotten cat.

A pair of arms lifted me. Bewildered, I raised my head. My hand swept a chiseled jaw.

“Pheasant?”

“There you are.” It was him. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing here?”

His familiar voice almost drove me to tears. “I can’t walk,” I said.

He settled me against his chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

His arms were strong, his skin warm, and his heart beat steadily against my chest. I clung to him like a cicada grasping its leafy home.

He passed a dark building, moving gingerly, and turned right toward an entrance to another garden. Once we entered it, he crossed a bridge.

“Where is everyone?” I whispered. It was quiet. We were alone. I liked that.

“At the other side of the garden with Taizi.” He looked around the small area surrounded by many trees. “They’re burying the flutist.”

“And you?” I touched his arm.

“I’m fine.”

But his pace was slower than usual. “You lost consciousness.”

“That’s nothing.”

“Did he forgive you?”

He nodded, and we did not speak for a while.

“You shouldn’t have said that to the Emperor, Pheasant.”

He shook his head and walked toward a stone bench. Then he put me down and put a finger to his lips. There were faint lights coming from my left. Some murmurs drifted to my ears. The night was so quiet, I could hear someone reciting the end of a burial text nearby.

Finally, voices urged the heir to return to his bedchamber. Their footsteps rose and soon faded. I leaned against the tree next to the bench and stared at the sky, where a round moon hung like a shattered plate. A sprawling branch over my head poked my shoulder. I sat still, recalling what the Captain had told me. I was a cripple, broken, like a table without legs, an abomination, like the heir.

I felt the bench’s hard surface against me. “The Captain recommended he cut off my legs. He said it was bad blood.”

“What?” He lowered himself to the ground to stay at my eye level, looking stiff.

I turned to Pheasant. The pale moonlight draped on his head like a luminescent net. “I can’t walk.”

He turned his face away from me. “He must be crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t listen to him.”

“What if he’s right?”

He turned around and cradled my face in his hands. I could not believe how much he had changed. All traces of that easy manner of his were gone. He looked different, intense and melancholic.

My heart poured out for him. “Oh, poor Pheasant.” I held him. It just occurred to me that he could not sit because he still hurt from being whipped. “What have I done to you?”

He stroked my hair. “Don’t say that. I would do anything for you.”

My eyes moistened. As long as I had him, I did not care what happened to me. I could have held him and died at that moment, and I would have had no regrets.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

“What?”

“He promised to leave you alone.”

“He forgives me?”

“Yes. He won’t beat you, demote you, or expel you from the court.”

I searched his face. I should have known that Pheasant would protect me, that he would convince the Emperor to spare me. “What did you do, Pheasant?”

He did not answer.

I held the front of his robe. “You promised you’d never see me again?”

He looked away.

My hands trembled. “Is he going to send you away?”

“To study classics.”

“And?”

“Remember what I told you? Before my mother’s deathbed, my father promised I could marry any woman I wished, any woman of my choice.”

I remembered. He was her youngest son, her most beloved son. She wished him to be happy, not a pawn of the throne.

“Now, he has chosen one for me,” Pheasant said. “And I agreed.”

My hands slipped, and I faced the emptiness of the night. So vast and open. I felt the weightlessness surround me as if I were falling into a void, like a leaf blown into a gorge.

“Take care, my love.” He stood up, stretching out his hand as if to touch me. “I promise I will not see you again.”

“Wait.” I clutched his sleeve. Our gazes locked, and his eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Just a moment longer, all right?”

He nodded.

“When do you leave?”

“At dawn.”

So soon. Next time I saw him, he would belong to someone else. “Can I see where they struck you?”

He reached for his belt and untied his robe. Around his waist and back were bandages, beneath which flowed the blood that had bled for me. I did not touch it. I only stared. “Pheasant, have I told you about my father?”

He shook his head.

“He died to save me. I was twelve years old. He took me to my family’s grave site and showed me our family’s land. We were talking so merrily. He loved me, Pheasant. I was his favorite. But a tiger attacked us. No. Attacked me. He pushed me away to save me. For years I could not remember, but now I do.”

He squeezed my hand.

“He wanted so much for me. He raised me like a son. He believed in me, believed in some prediction, and then he died to protect me. I wanted to make him happy, to make him proud of me. I wanted to walk the path he chose for me. I couldn’t be with you”—I raised my head—“even if I wanted to.”

He stroked my head. Once, his tenderness would have crushed me, pained me. Not anymore. I traced his skin near the bandages. He cringed. “But I think there is nothing I can do. I have to disappoint him.”

I had to make a choice, my own choice. It was neither a right one nor a good one. Because with the choice, I would banish my father’s dream to the court’s shadowy corner, where it would wander like a homeless ghost, and because of it, I would bring my family no fame or glory.

I untied my robe and let it fall off my shoulders. Then I took Pheasant’s hand and kissed him.