It turned out that the second meeting tent was not far from Finley’s tent at all. It was a good-sized tent near the edge of the camp, built from white silken fabric that let a comfortable level of sunlight through.

Abrial waited alone for Bi Gho, sitting jitterily at the polished wooden table at the center of the tent. She sipped the steaming tea that had been left for her to drink with Bi Gho, and made a face. It was sour, like lemons: not as sweet or mild as the lavender tea she’d shared with Instructor Wei last night. She poured the entire saucer of honey into the pot, stirring it with the long wooden tea spoon.

Half an hour must have elapsed before a shadow appeared over the tent entrance. Abrial realized suddenly that she had drained the entire pot of honey-saturated tea.

Oh, well, she thought. They can just bring more, right? I hope, heh…

The silhouette pushed through the tent flap.

Abrial’s dark eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

"You?!" she spluttered, sitting up rigidly. Her hand flew instinctively to her belt, where Dohyun had been sheathed safely again. "Why are you here?"

Bi Chanjuan sighed distastefully. She let the tent flap close behind her, then crossed her arms, casting Abrial a loathsome glance.

"It wasn’t my choice," she snorted. "Jie—Bi Gho sent me. Something important came up for her to attend to. So now I have to sit here with you and answer your questions. For only one hour. She said I can leave right after one hour. If you try to talk to me about anything after an hour passes, don’t blame me if you end up with a deformed face."

Abrial’s lip curled in fury.

"You—are you trying to provoke me? What am I supposed to say to that? You know what—don’t worry! I…I won’t blame you if you attack me and end up in a surgeon’s tent! You can just blame yourself!"

Bi Chanjuan’s dark eyes crackled with a dangerous fire. Her sleek, dark hair, which was done up with a sharp silver hair binding pin, seemed to flutter around her shoulders menacingly. But then, as though forcing herself into restraint, Bi Chanjuan clenched her fists violently and strode over to sit in the chair across from Abrial. Her eyes still flashed, but she crossed her arms and legs, sitting grudgingly in the seat and avoiding eye contact with Abrial.

"Just ask your stupid questions, all right?" she grumbled. "I want to get this over with."

Abrial stared. Her face was still hot, and she’d been geared up to fight. But, apparently…Bi Chanjuan was just going to let it go? Just like that? Did her sister really have that much power over her?

"You’re really scared of your sister, aren’t you?" she wondered aloud.

Bi Chanjuan shot Abrial a contemptuous look.

"If you don’t hurry up and ask your stupid questions, I’ll break your stupid fingers."

"But wouldn’t you be in big trouble with your sister when she finds out you broke my fingers?" Abrial asked, genuinely confused.

Bi Chanjuan’s face rippled crimson with fury, then drained to a milky white, and flushed crimson again. Her hands twitched, as though she wanted to wrap them around Abrial’s neck.

When she spoke, she was gritting her teeth, as though forcing out every word were a pain:

"Do. You. Have. Questions. Or. Not?"

Abrial quirked an eyebrow. "Jeez. I was just asking. Actually, I have a lot of questions. Like…is there a name for this camp?"

Bi gave Abrial a sour look, tapping her long, golden nails on her arms. Her voice was short when she spoke.

"Of course you’d ask a simple question like that…This camp has been passed down through the generations of Wei Guang’s family for centuries. It is often called the Wei Camp. Others call it the rebel camp. Many call it the magicians’ camp in the north. Whatever you want. Doesn’t really matter."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Abrial leaned toward Bi Chanjuan over the table, her dark eyes glittering with interest. "It was passed down through Instructor Wei’s family? Cool! Why? And why do you keep calling him Wei Guang instead of Master Wei, or something? I keep hearing people call him Master Wei and stuff."

Bi Chanjuan sneered, turning her face away.

"One question at a time, you imbecile. For the second question…our families are close. The Wei and Bi clans are both descended from the court of the previous dynasty of Gongkua, before today’s Emperor took power. I can call Wei Guang whatever I want. You call him Instructor Wei this, Instructor Wei that…That’s way weirder, in my opinion. And also, what I call other people is none of your fucking business."

Abrial’s face heated up, and she clenched her fists. "He was my teacher! Are you always this infuriating? What about the first question? Why is this camp passed down through Instructor Wei’s family?!"

"Sigh…First, Wei Guang is the rightful heir to the throne."

Abrial’s mouth fell open slightly. She sat up straight as a sword.

"What? Instructor Wei is what?"

Bi Chanjuan studied her nails, casting Abrial a distasteful look out of the side of her eyes.

"He’s royalty," she said casually. "He would be king right now. If the emperor hadn’t destroyed the previous court."

Abrial’s face was pale with disbelief. She rubbed her knuckles fiercely beneath the table, thoughts flowing in a torrent behind her eyes.

"So you’re telling me…" she muttered, brow furrowed deeply, "That Instructor Wei…who’s been teaching me blade fighting all these years…should be Emperor right now?!"

Bi Chanjuan was entirely unphased. She drew out a long, golden pipe from a pocket in her robe, thin as a hairpin. Nonchalantly, she lifted it to her mouth and drew in a breath of whatever was in the pipe without even lighting it.

When she blew out, thick wisps of glittering purple smoke rose from her lips.

"King," she corrected Abrial finally. "He would be king. The current Emperor instated the practice of calling Gongkua’s monarch the Emperor instead of King after he made Gongkua into an empire by conquering the surrounding kingdoms."

Abrial had recovered slightly by now. She continued rubbing her knuckles, more slowly now, and frowned at the glittering purple smoke pouring from Bi Chanjuan’s lips.

"Does your sister know you smoke?"

Momentary fear flashed across Bi Chanjuan’s face. Then it was gone, replaced with a contemptuous glare at Abrial.

"If you tell her anything," Bi Chanjuan hissed, "I swear I’ll slit your throat in your sleep. Do you know how much restraint it’s taking for me to just sit here and talk without strangling you?"

Abrial raised her hands in surrender. "I didn’t say I was gonna tell her! And isn’t it kind of unfair for you to think you’re the only one struggling not to attack right now? I really wanted to punch your face in when you first stepped in here!"

Bi Chanjuan’s glare turned murderous. Abrial saw the hand in her turquoise-clad lap clench violently, then relax. Bi Chanjuan’s expression returned to twitchy calmness, the corners of her cherry-red mouth spasming dangerously.

Abrial leaned back in her chair again, oblivious to Bi Chanjuan’s quietly boiling rage.

"Hey…can you tell me why Instructor Wei isn’t king, then? I’ve never even heard about the history of Gongkua. I just knew it was an empire, and that everyone is supposed to love the Emperor and hate magic. If the Wei clan used to rule Gongkua…wouldn’t they have to get overthrown for an Emperor to come along? When did that happen?"

Bi shot Abrial a look of incredulity. At the same time, a glittering violet cloud spewed out from between her cherry lips.

"You don’t even know that part of Gongkuan history? Not even a watered-down, propaganda-pumped version? Aren’t you from a noble government family or something?"

Abrial’s face flushed wine-red. She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair grumpily.

"There weren’t any books in my house," she muttered defensively. "And my parents never let anyone teach me about history! "It's not my fault."

"No books?" Bi Chanjuan removed the pipe from her lips, resting it limply in her lap. Her dark eyes echoed with disbelief. "How can noble parents not make their kid read books? Did they even educate you? Didn’t other noble people think you were stupid?"

Abrial’s lip curled into a scowl. She shot Bi Chanjuan an irritated glance.

"Of course I’m educated! I think…?" Abrial trailed off, her gaze faltering. Then it hardened again. "Well, I know enough about things! I had instructors in arithmetic, and folklore, and music, and blade fighting, and mental fortitude, and architecture, and — "

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re rich—but can you read?"

"Yeah, of course I can! I learned how to read poems and lyrics. And music. Just not books."

"Makes perfect sense," Bi Chanjuan remarked sarcastically. "You learned how to read poems, but you’ve never read a book. What kind of childhood did you have that there were no books in your house? There were books outside, weren’t there?"

Abrial glared ill-temperedly at the grooves in the bamboo mats laid across the tent floor.

"I didn’t go outside," she muttered.

"What?" Bi Chanjuan laughed. "You didn’t go outside?"

"I was always in the house."

"What were you, a fucking hermit?"

"My parents didn’t let me outside for eighteen years! I DIDN’T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE!" Abrial had vaulted to her feet, fists curled, a dragon with flesh of anger rearing in her core. Her dark eyes were seething so intensely that they seemed to burn red.