The passage of time ceased to matter. I didn’t know how long I cultivated. When I slowly sank out of the meditation and opened my eyes, I could see the colors of sunset painting the mountains. My eyesight had improved along with the rest of my senses, even if I wasn’t actively circulating qi. Although my core continued spinning.

My teacher was watching me with a satisfied expression. When I opened my eyes, he nodded. “Well done, Your Highness. You do this old teacher proud. Now, would you care to venture a guess to our next step?”

“Techniques?”

“Not yet. Children don’t walk before they’ve been taught to stand. No, first we will focus on the elements, or affinities, of qi.”

I nodded. All of that seemed familiar from what I’d read. During my cultivation, I had sensed that qi wasn’t uniform, that it contained many different things. Presumably, affinities. “So, which one do I have?”

“Which do you sense in yourself? Look to your dantian and meridians.”

I frowned and inspected my core. It was easy to guess, but hard to be sure. “Light? Or, no, shadow?”

“No. Like many in your family, including your most esteemed mother, you cultivate both light qi and darkness qi.”

Light and darkness, huh? That sounds cool. If I understood things correctly, that would be a pretty versatile build. But it sounded like it needed careful balance.

“Dual-element cultivators are not uncommon,” he explained, “but this way carries both advantages and risks. You need to keep the two affinities separate in your dantian, especially in the case of such opposing elements. For a genius such as yourself, that is fortunately little trouble. However, you can only draw in qi of one element at a time, and are in some sense limited by the qi you chose to gather in your core. For example, if you fill it with darkness qi completely, or almost completely, you will be unable to use a light art. There’s also the inherent splitting of focus to consider.”

I nodded. All of that made sense. “I understand.”

“Good. Then we will move on.”

He sprang up in one fluent movement, and I hurriedly stood as well. Although I’d been sitting for hours, I felt no soreness and was as limber as before. Straightening, I listened to my teacher explain the basic principles of techniques, pushing out qi through your meridians to achieve a desired effect.

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“And now, create a small light.”

I took a deep breath and focused. Carefully, I guided some light qi out of my dantian and through a meridian into my arm, then out of my palm. It sputtered, creating a small puff of light, before the flow ceased.

Grimacing, I tried again. This time, I kept tighter control over my qi, trying to keep it moving smoothly. When it left my body, I squeezed down at it with my will. Finally, a speck of light sprung into existence above my palm. It flickered a little, but I smiled in triumph.

“The Star’s Spark,” Ling Ta declared. “Your first technique, although it can hardly be called one. At higher levels of mastery, it can be used to blind and confuse enemies, even searing them if one comes near. You should have little trouble regaining that mastery.”

That’s about what I would expect from a simple light technique. If nothing else, it would probably be useful as a flashlight or to light a fire if I ever needed one. But I couldn’t help feeling proud of myself. I’d actually performed magic!

“Don’t rush,” he cautioned me. “Let things come back to you. With most of your other techniques, failure can be painful or even set back your cultivation if it is great enough. There is much to learn concerning the theory of qi and the function of techniques, but you can acquire that information on your own. Still, I would suggest the honored princess come back for my instruction every day. We do not have the luxury of bungling this.”

I wasn’t sure if I could even refuse that suggestion, but I had no desire to try. Of course I wanted his help in learning cultivation.

“Of course I will,” I said. Then I looked at the weapon racks. “Actually, will your instruction include martial arts?”

The dignified teacher grinned like a schoolboy. “Naturally! Now that you mention it, I would be remiss if I did not find out how well you remember the art of combat.”

I had a bad feeling about that. But before I could protest, he moved. He was faster than any fighter I’d seen on Earth. I barely had time to be surprised before he was in front of me.

Instinctively, I dodged to the side. His fist whistled by my hair. Damn, that was fast! What do I — The next instant, I found myself sailing through the air, then crashing into a mat.

Cursing, I pulled myself up. The impact hadn’t hurt, and my body moved as well as ever, but that didn’t make me any happier.

“What was that for? I couldn’t have won, you’re too strong!”

“Oh no,” he smirked. “I suppressed my strength just enough that you could have resisted.”

I shrugged, wondering at his standards. I’d moved faster than I ever had in my life, but I didn’t really know what was normal here. “Well, do you have an assessment, or did you just spontaneously decide I would make for a nice floor decoration?”

He didn’t react to the barb. “It’s quite obvious where the problem lies. Your body remembers what to do, but your mind gets in the way. You need to learn to trust yourself and rebuild your tactical experience. That can be fixed with training.”

Honestly, he was probably right. “So much to look forward to,” I grumbled.