Three days later, the shadow guards brought answers—and a woman.
The fire had been set by the old general, Wu Qi's father. And the woman was Baoyin, the princess's dowry handmaid.
Wu Qi had sold her to a brothel. She'd tried to take her own life in protest, but succeeded only in shattering her mind.
"It's you, Shen Yuan. How good to see you." Baoyin looked at me and giggled, vacant and childlike.
"Baoyin, why were you sent to a brothel? What happened all these years?" I crouched before her, speaking each word with deliberate patience.
"Brothel!" The word hit like a slap. She threw herself to the floor, sobbing. "Please, Your Grace, I was wrong, I'll never speak to the princess again, please don't send me there, I won't say a word, not to anyone—"
"Baoyin, look at me. I'm Shen Yuan. I'm here to help you. Tell me everything. No one will ever hurt you again." I gripped her shoulders and forced her to meet my eyes.
She stared at my face. Something clicked. Her gaze sharpened.
"Shen Yuan—hurry—save the princess! She's been chained inside her room. Wu Qi won't let anyone near her, won't let her speak to a soul. She'll lose her mind—please, save her—"
Baoyin shook my arms with manic intensity. Something in my skull went white-hot, and I could no longer hear my own breathing.
* * *
At the banquet that night, what I'd seen behind the rockery—all that tenderness, that passion—I had believed every second of it.
Coward that I was, I saw only what I wanted to see. The princess's bliss with Wu Qi, their perfect marriage.
What I had not seen was this: as she was kissed with her back to me, her eyes were streaming with tears, and her hands were trembling with terror.
I had invented a fairy tale and clung to it while the princess clawed at the walls of her hell, and I'd turned my face away.
I was guilty. I deserved to die.
Using the emperor's name, I had the old general beheaded. I dragged Wu Qi from the road outside the city, already marshaling troops for his coup, and threw him into the darkest cell I owned.
I stared at the blood-soaked wretch strapped to the rack, hating him with every atom of my being.
"She was the finest woman alive. How could you do that to her?"
My whip split his chest open. He grunted, raised his eyes, and smiled—a smile forged from contempt.
"What are you? You're nothing. You have no right to meddle in a husband and wife's private affairs." He laughed, wild and vicious. "Tell me, have you seen what she looks like in bed? Could you satisfy her? You couldn't. You're a gelded dog. What do you have that I don't?!"
"Then you should have treated her well! Why did you torment her? Is that your love?"
My voice broke. Wu Qi only sneered.
* * *
"In all these years, did she ever look at me? Really look at me? Love—easy for you to say. I wanted to learn, but who was there to teach me? Her eyes held only you. Was there room in her heart for me?"
"She knew you had spies in the manor. Not once did she ask you for help. She protected you to the very end. What is so special about you? Where exactly did I fall short?"
My ears roared. My vision went red. And the memory of the banquet crashed over me.
Gutless, wretched fool that I was—I had looked and seen only what I wished was true. I had been blind to the princess drowning in the abyss at my feet.
I was guilty. I deserved to die.
Under the emperor's seal, I had the entire Wu clan wiped from the earth.
I built the grandest tomb I could for the princess, and planted her favorite peach blossoms around it.
I freed Baoyin from the brothel and settled her with a kind family.
But it wasn't enough. Not enough. Not remotely enough.
Every waking minute, guilt devoured me alive. I could not sleep. The moment my eyes closed, her face filled the darkness—every smile, every glance, every word.
I moved into the old palace rooms where she had lived before her marriage and filled them with her belongings, collected piece by piece. In the dead of night, I held them and replayed every memory, one by one.
* * *
Like that, I could pretend she had never left.
I knew I was losing my mind. I didn't want to be sane.
I became obsessed with sorcery. I scoured the countryside for shamans and mediums, anyone who claimed to know how to raise the dead or summon a spirit home.
One Taoist priest told me that if I fed a spirit jar inscribed with the princess's birth date and hour with blood from over my heart for forty-nine consecutive days, there was a sliver of hope that her scattered soul could be gathered and made whole again.
I smiled wide and handed him the knife myself.
I would pay any price. Even my life.
It failed. After forty-nine days, the princess still didn't come back.
* * *
The court was crumbling. The old emperor lay comatose from my poison. I held absolute power and cared about none of it. The people cursed my name, and I no longer listened.
Princess, everyone who ever hurt you is dead now.
Will you let me bury the entire kingdom alongside you?
The King of Qi raised his banner and marched on the capital. Servants fled with armfuls of treasure. The vast palace emptied until only I remained.
I curled up in her old chambers, lit every candle, and sat among her things, drinking alone.
Through the haze of drunkenness, I saw her.
She wore a white gown, as beautiful as an immortal, but her face was crumpled with sorrow, and tears traced silent lines down her cheeks.
I stumbled forward to wipe them away—then stopped, inches from her face.
I was terrified. One touch might shatter her into dust all over again.
"Please stop crying, Your Highness. And please don't leave me behind again." My voice was a plea wrapped in a sob.
She nodded, then shook her head. Her lips moved without sound, forming five characters:
"Live well."
The vision broke apart, and I was alone in the enormous, gutted palace.
* * *
"I can't, Your Highness. I've been waiting for an entire year—and a year is so very long—the waiting has nearly killed me." I fell to my knees and wept without restraint.
The last priest had told me: if I died on the anniversary of her death, in the same way she died, our fates could be bound together across lifetimes.
Today, at last, was the day.
I tipped every candle. The flames leaped and spread. I closed my eyes.
"If there is a next life, Your Highness, I swear I will be brave enough. I will stay by your side forever, and I will never let go of your hand."
* * *
A Jin's Extra: Love Is Never a Sin
The first time I saw the prince, I thought: he's beautiful.
Red lips, white teeth, skin like jade. He spoke in a sweet, soft voice, like a girl, and it was no wonder the others picked on him.
When he asked my name, I felt—inexplicably—shy. I couldn't bring myself to look into those star-bright eyes. I ducked my head and mumbled that I didn't have a name.
Because I didn't. No parents, no family. From the day I could remember, I'd fought other children in the shadow guard camp, wrestled beasts for my meals. Who would bother naming something as lowly as me?
The prince smiled. "Shall I give you one? How about A Jin? The character for 'ember.' Do you like it?"
He was the first person ever to name me. The first person to ask if I liked something.
Of course I liked it. The name, and the person before me.
* * *
He was so kind to me. He taught me to write with his own hand. He snuck pastries from the kitchen every day.
How could someone this gentle still be bullied by those princes? Were they blind?
I was furious, but I couldn't hit royalty. All I could do was stand between him and the fists and take the blows myself.
The prince was such a crybaby. Those knocks were nothing compared to camp training, but he wept for me. What was there to cry about? Protecting him was my job.
He was brilliant most of the time, and wonderfully stupid others.
I was his shadow—always behind, always watching from the dark. I stepped into the light only when he was in danger.
Year after year, the entirety of my youth was a single pair of eyes following a single person.
His drowsy, bleary face at dawn. The delicate way he ate his three meals. The serious set of his mouth during lectures.
He was remarkable. Essays, classics, archery—he excelled in everything.
Not like me. I nearly fell asleep just eavesdropping on the lessons. But I didn't need to understand the tutor's words. My only job was to keep the prince safe.
* * *
A rainy day. Those wretched princes had cornered him again, splashing mud all over his favorite white robes. Infuriating!!
I dropped from the sky, hoisted him under one arm, and ran. We hid inside a grotto in the garden.
The rain hammered harder. We were crammed into a narrow space, my sleeve brushing his. Very close.
I've worn this shirt two days without washing it. Does it smell?
I reddened, sniffed myself in secret—and caught only the clean,grass-green scent that always clung to him.
Does the prince use perfume? How does he always smell this good?
While my mind wandered, a warm kiss landed on my cheek. I turned, met his wide, panicked eyes.
"A Jin, I like you."
Thunder in a clear sky. My brain went blank. I stumbled out of the grotto on legs that had forgotten which side went first.
I needed to think. But before I got three steps, my ears—trained to impossible sharpness—caught the sound of the prince crying in the cave.
What's he crying for? It's not as if I'm never coming back.
I stopped, climbed into the tree beside the grotto, and watched over him in silence until the rain stopped and he walked back to his chambers alone.