His prison was a palace. After the military police had escorted Ravi out of Lizha’s Hall, he’d expected to be thrown into a hole in the ground and left to rot. The reality seemed like a cruel joke, that he’d be treated to a few hours of luxury before being shown to a squalid cell, but three days had already passed since his arrival, and he was becoming less sure of his father’s intentions by the minute.
Wunei had called this place Fei House. One of eight mansions in the palace grounds, it boasted space enough to accommodate a dozen families, though in the time Ravi had stayed there, he hadn’t seen another soul. He’d been confined to the western corner of the southern wing, a complex of bedrooms with a living room, drawing room, library and even an art studio. As impressed as he was with his overly generous lodgings, he wasn’t in the mood to paint or read. Securing an escape route was the most obvious course of action. It was obvious, but would there be any point to leaving?
Crossing his arms, Ravi leaned against the wooden frame of a window. A lavish maroon robe he’d found in the living room protected him from the cool breeze blowing through. With a full view of the city and the sea beyond it, he’d been afforded a sight that most could only dream of. Such a room would be in high demand even among his father’s lords; the thought that it would be unoccupied seemed unlikely. And to then treat this place like a holding cell? It just doesn’t make sense.
His gaze shifted to the palace gardens as a patrol passed by below. Four guardsmen, all armed, all vigilant. Their faces were different to those he’d seen a few minutes earlier. A glance in any direction revealed occupied watchtowers along the walled perimeter. The Daishun was keeping his security watertight. But if he’s concerned that I’ll try to escape, why give me such freedom?
Leaving the building couldn’t be difficult. Most of the rooms had windows, and though they were locked, there was nothing to prevent him from smashing the glass and climbing through. After eluding the military police stationed throughout the palace grounds, he could easily lose himself in the city streets. He’d be truly free. And for what? Who was waiting for him out there? Fuu had left him, allying herself with Sio and her league of traitors. Ai was gone. If for whatever reason she’d decided to stay in Hanshi, the chances of finding her among a hundred thousand others were little to none. With nothing and no one to run to, freedom meant only loneliness in a city that hated him. He wouldn’t run again. He’d grown far too tired for that.
There was a certain peacefulness to the sight beyond his window. The sun above was a mellow yolk, its golden haze coating all. Below was a canopy of towers and trees; the ancient fruit-bearing spires of the Cantian Orchard stood proudly alongside the great sentry pagodas, each one built to administrate, oversee and maintain order in a single district. It was a view he could get used to, even if only for the short time he had before his execution. Maybe such a thing wouldn’t be so bad.
It wouldn’t happen, however. She wouldn’t allow it. He’d noticed her reflection in the glass pane a few moments ago. All his worrying seemed foolish now. She was never going to leave him behind.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, turning away from the window. As he faced her, his eyes were immediately drawn to the object she held in her hands.
“You’re still breathing,” Ai replied. Her lips parted into a welcoming grin. “Not that I’m surprised. Bruises and broken knuckles are nothing to you, but don’t think I’d have let them maim you, my love. That pompous bitch in the courtroom never understood just how closely death loomed over her.”
“Committing regicide on your first day in the city wouldn’t have been the best idea. Your illusions are incredible, but the military police are bolstered with elite fighters trained in magic. You might not be able to fool them in a fight.”
“Timid, as always,” she sighed. Then, as if suddenly remembering she was holding something, she offered it to Ravi.
He’d been pretending not to notice. Now that the gift was held inches from his face, he was all but forced to acknowledge it. “Is that for me?” he asked.
“It is,” she nodded. Red stains dampened the lustre of her white teeth.
In her hands was a head that had once belonged to a smuggler. Only days ago he’d been the captain of a continental ferry, but then he made the mistake of betraying his passengers. I didn’t expect her to take it so personally.
“...Thank you,” he managed to say. Taking it from her, Ravi stared into the head’s glassy eyes. Its gaze was sleepy and unfocused, yet the expression upon its face spoke of a painful and terrifying end. Beneath the dead man’s wiry grey beard, there was still some remnant of warmth to his rubbery skin. The gory stump below his jaw was fresh and damp. Ravi wondered for a moment why there was no blood leaking from the wound, though quickly made an unsettling connection. “How was the taste?”
“Disappointing,” she sighed. “It was like biting into sweaty leather. I’m sure you’d make for a more exquisite meal. So tender, lean and juicy, so-”
“You can eat me, but only once. Make sure you savour it.”
“Perhaps I will.” Padding closer, she pressed herself against him. He felt the softness of her swollen breasts upon his arm. Her once-lithe form grew a little heavier each day; the world would soon welcome another twisted child of Xia’an. “Like the spider and the mantis, living meigui have been known to devour their mates.”
“I’m not sure you’d get much out of me.” Ravi didn’t resist as she leaned ever closer, the heat of her breath rolling down his neck. She bit into him with slender fangs, breaking the skin ever so slightly. Where he might have winced, Ravi’s expression remained unchanged. Such intimate pain had become all too familiar. “So?” he asked, his voice a whisper. “What do you think?”
She took her time in backing away, making sure to savour the taste of his blood that now stained her lips. Finally she spoke, a ravenous desire lurking beneath her gaze. “Sublime.”
Ravi nodded, silently congratulating himself. “I see.” He glanced back down to the head in his hands. “There’s still the issue of your ‘gift’. As nice as it would be to have a severed head for an ornament, our friend the captain here will soon be festering. We shouldn’t keep it here.”
“Here?” Ai asked, tilting her head. “You say that as if you’re staying.”
“I am. You should too.”
“What a strange thing to say. You’re being held prisoner by people who wish to see you dead, and you suggest I join you in your confinement?”
“If my father wished to see me dead, I’d be dead. He defended me in court. He gave me a place to stay, even if I am supposed to be trapped here. That said, it doesn’t look like his security is much of an obstacle. How did you get in?”
“The guardsmen were kind enough to offer their keys. It might have taken some convincing, though,” she smirked.
Ravi clenched his jaw. “Really? What kind of convincing?”
Her stare was unblinking. “The kind that leaves men unable to resist.”
“Say it plainly.”
Something stirred in those pale eyes. Excitement? “Have I angered you, Ravi? Does it upset you, the thought of me being with other men?”
“Does it upset me?” he asked. “There’s no appeal to being betrayed, Ai.”
She drew nearer. “Betrayal is a strong word for a little pleasure. Don’t you like to see me enjoying myself?” She ran her tongue over Ravi’s cheek, pausing beside his ear. “Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Has my opinion ever mattered to you?”
“I care what you think. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out. You could join me next time, or perhaps simply watch, if it’s too much for you. I know you’re a sensitive soul.”
Ravi dropped the severed head, seizing Ai before it could land on the polished flooring. He fastened his grip around her throat and shoved her against the wall, knocking a watercolour from its mount. Eyes widening, her mouth gaped as she tried to draw breath. Somehow the sight only fanned his anger.
“Close your mouth,” he said softly.
She choked, then gagged. Somewhere among the noises was a plea for him to let go.
Ravi grimaced. “If only you could see how stupid you look. Ai Mitsuki, daughter of Mei, descendent of Xia’an. Nothing but a fucking whore. I should break those pretty fangs.”
Ai suddenly froze, staring at him intently. She spoke clearly then, her words a quiet taunt. “Could you?”
Ravi loosened his grip. At first he was confused, but her expression held all the answers he could ask for. He understood with a single look. He knew what she was doing, what she wanted: for him to willingly give what she had once taken by force.
He wanted to hesitate, to resist Ai, to resist himself. Yielding to his desires here would be a defeat, not a victory, yet his body refused to listen. With groping hands, he pushed her down, pinning her against a woollen rug. She pretended to resist, feigning pleas as he tore through her shirt to expose her chest, but her exhilaration was plain to see, and soon she only grinned. Some kind of victory had been won in the woman’s mind. Ravi could only wonder if it had ever been worth trying to understand her.
Late evening’s creeping shadows had engulfed much of the room by the time Ai had sated her hunger. Upon the floor, the smuggler captain’s blood had formed a dark crust, though the other, more recent stains beside were yet to dry. Ai had climbed into the room’s double bed. She hadn’t dressed or washed herself, and immediately fell fast asleep beneath a silken duvet.
Ravi paid her no notice. Far away from their world, the sun was sinking below the burning horizon. He watched with tired eyes as the day faded into black. Hanshi was a different beast at night, with thousands of fiery lights flooding its darkened streets and alleyways like smouldering arteries. This city was quieter than the industrial fortress that was Mosun Shi. There was no blinding neon here, no concrete monoliths, but the hearts of the people were strong, and their ideals more aligned than most. He hoped there would one day be a place for him among them.
Visitors stopped by the following morning, their arrival announced by a heavy knock upon the building’s entrance and the subsequent opening of wooden doors. Even through his drowsiness, Ravi noticed there was no sound of rotating locks. The strangers approached at a brisk pace and gave him no time to prepare himself. He had only a pair of cotton bottoms to cover himself when the first of them came marching into the bedroom.
“He’s here, Minister,” reported the burly guardsman. Three others entered after him: the politician at the front, followed by a student and another bodyguard. Ravi recognised them all.
“So he is,” the Minister concurred, “And it would appear he is not alone.” He shot a pointed glance toward Ai, who was still sitting contently in bed.
This man was Shizhen Diao, head of the Domestic Ministry and successor to his family name. He was also the father of Yu Diao, Fuu’s insufferable manservant. There had never been a noticeable resemblance between him and his son, and it had grown no closer in the years Ravi had been away. His fifty years of life had not treated him kindly, though it was clear some effort had gone into managing the mess left behind. His wiry beard was trimmed and waxed, and his rough, pockmarked skin was moisturised and powdered. Little could be done with his bald head, though it admittedly had an impressive shine. In Diao’s company was his envoy, the student Seojin. Both wore formal robes woven with shades of orange and maroon.
A sour expression creased the Minister’s face as he surveyed the room, and he covered his nose with a silk handkerchief. It was only then that Ravi remembered what he had left lying on the floor the night before. The realisation was like an icy blade in his stomach, and as he turned, nausea stirred within him. He knew the smuggler captain’s severed head was down there in the darkness, resting atop bloodstains, filling the air with its thick and foul stench. He searched desperately, as if finding it would somehow make it go away. Yet he did not find the head. Nor did Minister Diao, nor anyone that might have looked, for any remains of the captain had vanished. A subtle smirk from Ai told Ravi all he needed to know.
Unable to bear the smell any longer, Shizhen withdrew toward the doorway. “This place is unsuitable for our meeting. Both of you will join me downstairs in the drawing room.”
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Ravi didn’t move. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Why not say what you came here to say?”
“Is our room so uninviting, Mr Minister?” Ai asked. “I went through the effort of tidying up last night, after all.
“The amount of tidying required to make this room habitable is too much for one individual, my lady,” Shizhen replied dryly. He glanced back at Ravi as he turned to leave. “Please ensure you are appropriately dressed before you rejoin our company. The attire of a Jishun should represent his nobility, although no such robe would suit you. Something simple will suffice.”
The visitors were quick to leave. One part of Ravi was prepared to rush after them, while another wanted nothing more to do with Shizhen or his followers. He regained his composure with a slow breath. The Diao family would face him with enmity as they always had. Taking their words to heart would only serve to empower them.
Donning his robe, Ravi marched over to the bed where Ai lay and yanked the quilted duvet from her body. She was nude underneath, and made no attempt to cover herself. The bedsheets hid nothing else. “Where is it?” he demanded as quietly as his temper would allow.
Tracing her breast with a finger, Ai cocked her head. “Where is what? Everything you could ever want is right here before you.”
“Unless you’ve a rotting head between your thighs, I doubt that. What did you do with it?”
Her expression instantly soured, but it wasn’t long before that playful glint once again illuminated her silver eyes. “I enjoyed it in a spiced soup while you were sleeping. The meat wasn’t enjoyable by itself, and I’ve heard turmeric is a boon during pregnancy.”
Ravi could feel his shoulders relaxing. He shook his head and sighed. “Of course you did.”
“Deciding what to prepare it with was the most difficult part. Would you believe it? They stocked your kitchen quite generously.”
“They’ve been generous with everything they’ve provided. That’s what I’m having trouble understanding. Even if they’re only temporary, you’d think a killer’s confines would be a little less homely.”
Ai shrugged, “Maybe you’ve been forgiven. Perhaps they’ve finally seen the qualities of the mighty Ravi Jie.”
“And what qualities are they?”
“Why, your…” She stared at him for a moment. Her brow furrowed. “Oh, I’m sure there’s something. Your friends are downstairs, why not ask them yourself?”
“Mm. I’ll do that.” He wasn’t in the mood to entertain more of her antics. Whether or not she had been serious in her suggestion to question Shizhen and his followers, it couldn’t hurt to try.
Tall wooden doors led into the drawing room where Minister Diao awaited. The table they sat around was large enough to accommodate a large family. No plates or bowls were laid upon it, only a pair of ivory cups and a plain bottle of clear liquid. Shizhen motioned to an empty seat opposite from him. Ravi sat in the first chair he came across.
The Minister wore his disdain plainly. “Common blood begets disobedience, which in turn harms any chance of developing discipline. The peasantry are products of their heritage. What of you? As the son of our ruler, you claim the title of Jishun, yet make no effort to meet even the basic standards of an individual of such stature. One can only wonder if neglect of this degree is intentional.”
Ravi took a slow breath. “This chair looked comfy. I’ve no idea how long you intend for this conversation to go on. Would you rather I be distracted by a pained backside?”
“Wise,” Seojin nodded. The student watched Ravi with great interest. “Utilising one’s full concentration in such a discussion surely puts you at an advantage.”
Ravi hadn’t expected that the Minister’s expression could grow any more foul, yet it did. “Defiance is less than amusing,” said Shizhen. “I hope you do not intend to entertain yourself with our conversation.”
“I didn’t come here with any intentions, Minister Diao. You summoned me. I’ll admit I’d like to ask about my father’s reasons for this house arrest, but that’s just a coincidence.”
“The Daishun does not explain his reasoning except where it is necessary to do so. Criminal punishment is not my area of expertise, and I am not here on behalf of the military police. This is no formal meeting.”
Ravi raised an eyebrow. “Just dropped by for a chat?”
“Of a sort.” The Minister glanced at the guardsman to his right, who promptly lifted the unmarked bottle and filled both cups halfway. “I can share what I know about your prison.”
“Out of kindness?”
“Out of mutual interest. I believe you know something that I do not. Before that, however, a drink,” he announced with a flat smile, gesturing toward the cup now in front of Ravi. The liquid was off-coloured and smelled of rice wine, but there was another scent- a sickly sweet nuttiness- interwoven.
This wine was poisoned. At least, that was the obvious assumption. Whether there was any truth to his suspicion could only be proven through testing, a trial that either he or Shizhen would have to undertake.
Ravi brought the cup to his lips, a thousand thoughts bubbling behind his blank stare. What would he gain from killing me here? I’m already condemned to death. Does he think he could poison a prisoner of the Daishun without consequence? Did my father order him to do it? Why would they go to such lengths for a simple execution? It didn’t make sense. So, if the Minister didn’t intend for him to die, then what was he planning? Is he waiting for me to accuse him of poisoning the wine? An insult of that degree pointed at a minister would be grounds for the death penalty, but what would be the point? That didn’t make sense either. There was no logic to poisoning him, which could only mean the drinks were safe. In theory.
The wine rolled over his tongue, its flavour smooth and sweet. As it reached his stomach, a wave of nausea immediately washed over him, though it passed within moments. Calm down, he told himself, realising too late that this was exactly what Shizhen wanted. An intimidated opponent was a submissive one.
“The taste is good,” Ravi noted, taking another sip. “It’s almost refreshing.”
The Minister nodded and reached for his own cup. “Thank you. The wine is actually a creation of my own. Some of my vintages predate our current age, but this particular barrel was aged for five years. I held a fascination for almond sweets at the time, and so decided to attempt an infusion of their flavour with the fruitiness of the wine. The results were less popular than I had hoped. I find myself strangely glad that you, at least, share my appreciation for it.”
Ravi said nothing in reply. Only occasional gulps broke the silence as Shizhen slowly drained his cup. The guardsmen stood unmoving, and Seojin stared unblinking.
Shizhen’s attention only returned to Ravi once he had finished. “Do you know anything about the robe you are wearing?” he asked.
Ravi glanced down. Paisley patterns and golden thread adorned the maroon silk that clothed him. Time had lessened its lustre, but it had clearly begged a high price in years past. “It’s a little loose on me.”
“As is to be expected when wearing another’s clothes. That robe belongs to the Daishun.”
“I’ve seen what kind of clothing my father wears. This doesn’t exactly match his style.”
“Not now, but evidently, there was a time that it did. He bought the robe from a caravan in the Yazi desert while on a tour of Han’s Far East. It was a dashing look.”
“You were there?”
“My father and I joined the Daishun with the intention of renewing connections to the realm’s outer reaches. For Lord Jie, the visit was a grand adventure, and a prolonged relief from his duties.” Shizhen’s eyes narrowed then, seemingly out of weariness rather than irritation. He’d bore some anger toward their journey once, Ravi saw, but the years had weathered the feeling. “When we returned to Hanshi, he ensured that none within his court missed the flaunting of his prize from the Far East. He wore it to every occasion, from grand festivals and solemn speeches to simple meetings with friends. Even today, it would be more of a challenge to find someone in this city that does not recognise that robe than to find one that does.”
“Then I must be in the minority. What changed?”
The Minister’s lip twitched. “The Daishun changed. His reasons are not mine to disclose. If you are after details on his private affairs, you shall have to ask him yourself.”
“I’ll be sure to,” Ravi replied. “Are we finished? Did you just come here to tell me about the clothes I’m wearing?”
“The last time your father wore those clothes, he was in this very building.”
“He stayed in Fei House?”
“With your mother, for a time.”
A sliver of spite caught in Ravi’s throat. “You don’t know a thing about her.”
The Minister raised an eyebrow. “I do, actually. I knew Yunri before you were born. I even played a game of mahjong with her while she carried you. That year, the Daishun vacated this building for a summer so the two could enjoy a spell of privacy.”
“An entire summer?”
“Indeed. He must have planned to impress your mother with his carefree grandeur, but when she spoke, she seemed to long for a place that was smaller, far from the city’s confines. I was shocked, to say the least. A commoner’s entitlement is without limit.”
Gritting his teeth, Ravi said nothing. He knew that if he did, he would not stop with words.
“Does that upset you, Ravi?” asked the Minister’s envoy. Ravi’s head swivelled toward him.
“What?”
Seojin leaned forward. “Your mother seems to be a sensitive subject. You react at even the mention of her.”
Ravi looked back at Shizhen, who appeared no more impressed by the interruption than he. “You should choose better company.”
“As should you,” a woman’s voice spoke from behind. Ai kissed Ravi’s cheek gently, then took a seat beside him. She wore a black dress now, though where she’d found it, he didn’t know.
“Seojin’s intelligence is second only to his work ethic,” said Shizhen. “His sociability is yet to bloom.”
“I’ve noticed,” Ravi replied. “Back to what you were saying, I still don’t understand. I carry a death sentence. Do you expect me to believe that my father decided to dress me in his favourite clothes and house me in his private retreat?”
“He certainly ordered for you to be confined here. As for the robe, I am unsure. I told you that I could share information about this place, and I have.”
“And for what? Why are you here, Shizhen?”
The Minister raised a finger. “That question could be asked of you. Your reasons for returning to Hanshi are yet unclear.”
“I gave my reasoning to the court in Lizha’s Hall.”
“Your warning about Lady Sio, yes, I heard from Mr. Singh-Jin. The word around your father’s court is that she has vanished. None have seen the Host since she spoke against the Daishu during your hearing.”
“I’m not surprised. Era would never forgive what was said that day.”
Shizhen’s lips disappeared as he pressed them together. “Yet you are still here, as if you believe she will conveniently forget your defiance. Will you stay, or is your departure already in motion? One of our guardsmen that happened to be guarding the key to your cage is missing. The door was already unlocked when we arrived here,” he pointed out. His focus turned to Ai. “And then there is your beautiful companion. I do not need informants to know that she has invited herself into this place. The security detail stationed around Fei House will be doubled. If she is found to have been involved in the guardsman’s disappearance, do not doubt that she will die alongside you.”
Thankfully, Ai didn’t open her mouth, though the sheepish half-smile she wore was akin to a confession.
Ravi rose from his chair. At either side of the Minister, his guards gripped their weapons tightly. “I’m sure the military police can handle their own affairs, Minister Diao. What’s important right now is that you find Sio, rather than wasting your time here.”
Shizhen didn’t move from his seat. There was weight to his measuring gaze. “Whatever reasons you spout for returning, I simply do not believe them. The life of Ravi Chen was one of destitution, of hardship; he was raised on stale scraps and polluted slurry. Criminals were his cohort, knee-deep in a swamp of opioids and seminal fluid. He abandoned his mother. He was rejected by his father’s court. This city did not love Ravi. Why would he ever try to protect it?”
“Because I love this city, even if it has never been kind to me.”
Shizhen shook his head. “Words will not convince me, Chen. The truth is, it does not matter why you returned. You are imprisoned, and you will face judgement. There is no part for me to play. What I wish to know is this: where is my son?”
Ravi shrugged impatiently, “I have no idea. The last time I saw him was at a shrine on Hema Mountain, at the far side of Mogu Forest. We fought. That was half a year ago. He left with my sister after that. Sio said Fuu was somewhere west of Keisato, so if you’re going to look for him, you’ll have to break the enemy line first.”
The wrinkles deepened across Shizhen’s face. “For once, I believe you. Thank you, Ravi.” He looked down for a moment, then poured himself another cup of wine. “Only for Lady Fuu would he abandon his home and duties. Not even I could sway him from that.”
Something about the man’s expression stirred a well of emotion within Ravi. It was a sight he’d hoped to see from the Daishun: a father’s longing for his son. Following the Minister’s lead, he reached for the bottle and refilled his own cup before returning to his seat. Shizhen nodded in acknowledgement.
Again, there was only silence as the two savoured their drinks. The guardsmen stood statuesque, while Ai and Seojin observed with great curiosity. Ravi set down his cup when he had finished and peered into the Minister’s eyes, this time through a lens of passivity rather than hostility. Shizhen hadn’t visited as his enemy. He wasn’t here to trap him in a net of loaded questions, nor to hurry him to his grave. If that was true, it meant there was room for a different approach- an agreement for mutual gain. A nice idea, but what could he ever need from me?
Ravi shifted in his seat. “Before I was captured, I considered rejoining my father’s court.”
Shizhen had the eyes of an owl. “Most interesting. How were you planning to attain a position of power as a fugitive condemned to death?”
“The Royal Harem, or through the Academia Seating,” replied Ravi, shooting a glance at Seojin. “Like your friend here.”
“My friend is a man of upstanding character. His credentials were established before he came to Hanshi, and he has only improved upon them since arriving. You are a man known only for his crimes. I doubt many remember your time as a courtier, despite the impressive progress you made.”
“My options are limited,” Ravi admitted. “I’m not sure how far I can reach without those who might support me.”
Shizhen smirked. “Is that your angle? As head of the Domestic Ministry, I would undoubtedly make for a powerful ally. Your situation is immutable, however. If your father does not take your head, the Daishu certainly will. With that, I can do nothing to help.”
“But your position-”
“Does not allow me to challenge my ruler. Your sentence was passed because you shot a man into a vat of boiling water using a stolen crossbow, not that the last detail made it any worse of a crime. I will not put myself at risk for a convicted criminal, nor would I ever support a commoner in their political pursuits.”
Ravi bore his teeth, though there was no more anger in his voice. Now he could only plead. “My father is the Daishun. Is that not enough for you? Are you so insulted by my upbringing that you’d leave me to die?”
“On the contrary. I find myself fond of you, Ravi, but we both know you were born to grovel with the rest. Our city has faced a great number of troubles since your campaign in the Daishun’s court. Had you only known your place, there may well have been peace in a menial life. My only advice to you is this: take rest. Face your fate without struggle. It is out of my hands, and out of yours. Only the Heavens might help you now.”