Walking into Marcus's lab felt like entering a strange art museum. She could only guess what half of these instruments did. They were glass and curvy and bubbling, but she had never seen anything close to them in the textbooks at home. Ruyi and Claudia set up their own little workstations there and stuck to what they knew: the simple cauldron and rod. Claudia took to refining Ruyi's elixirs using the netherwort they'd gathered in the spring. Marcus said if they could start brewing big batches of them, he could distribute them to his allies and maybe get a few weeks of elixir training in before things really heated up. He also said it was probably too late to make much of a difference. He said he didn't want to mislead Claudia, but every bit counted.

Ruyi, meanwhile, started sifting through the notes Marcus had given her. He’d had them in a case, locked away, and they were neatly tabbed, organized, annotated in a neat script. She got out a blackboard and started scribbling her own notes, and then scribbling on Marcus's notes. It was like a visible reflection of how their minds worked: Marcus in neat lines and Ruyi flapping all over the place.

It was nice to get into researching again. Ruyi had missed having something to do. For all her life, she'd been chasing something. She felt itchy when she wasn't in motion. Soon, she had her mattress brought down into the lab, so she didn't have to leave except to bathe, when Claudia started to complain of the smell.

She could do this. She would do this.

***

Jin kept adjusting the crown on his head. It was the Emperor's crown, still decked out in all its rich rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, but it just didn't seem to fit quite right. But getting it adjusted was a vanity he couldn't afford, not right now.

He sat in his throne room and gazed out at the generals readying for war. There was Mother, representing the Li clan, and Father, representing the army, side by side. Mother looked concerned; she was looking at Jin. Father looked severe; he was looking at the map. Then there was Duke Huo, representing the Phoenix Wing Prefecture, and Duke Zhu, of the Heavenly Bamboo Forest. Duke Huo was the portly man with fearsome sideburns and a fiery expression; Zhu looked almost comically different sat beside him. He was thin, calm, and tall, with a trimmed moustache and droopy, watery eyes, and a soft-spoken way that belied a huge ego.

Father was pointing, giving his updates. "Of the 20,000 men in my service," he said, "16,000 yet remain. 4,000 defected to their home tribes, but the rest I decreed would be hanged as traitors if they did, and that has stemmed most of the bleeding. In sum, we have something like 45,000 active foot soldiers at our disposal, while they have nearing 70,000. Though at the top end, our elite soldiers number about the same as theirs; perhaps we even hold the upper hand. My assessment is that holding against them is eminently doable. Retaking lost territory is… considerably more difficult, but possible."

Jin mulled it over for a moment; they were all looking to him for an answer, these folk who had been ruling their provinces for longer than he had been alive. But he could make no room for doubt; he was emperor now. He adjusted the crown on his head.

"What do you think we should do?" said Jin. He almost added "father" to the end of it, then remembered himself.

Father pursed his lips. "We cannot let this insurrection stand," he said. "We must at least make an attempt to retake the east, lest it fester beyond our control. My recommendation is purely military. What you do should depend on your ultimate goal. What do you want, Your Majesty?"

That, at least, he could answer easily. “Whichever way causes the least amount of suffering."

"Then you should take the fight to them!" said Duke Huo.

"If I may—how precisely does that prevent suffering?" said Duke Zhu softly, arching a dainty brow. "That would seem the rash decision. We should focus on protecting our own."

Huo glared at him. "If we do not confront them, they will come for us. They are already planning it, I guarantee you that. Do you think Qin is satisfied with how things are? That you have killed his son, ejected him from the government, and now branded him a traitor? I’ll wager he masses his armies on the border as we speak!"

Jin bit his lip as he looked from one man to the next. Then he looked to Mother, pleadingly, and Mother looked to Father, sighed, and shrugged. "I have no strong opinion on the matter," she said. "We may give our opinions, but it is your duty to decide… Your Majesty," she tacked on hastily at the end. None of them were used to it.

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He thought in silence, uncomfortably conscious of the weight of his decisions. You'd think he'd be used to it after so many years living beneath his destiny, but it never got easier. Folk would suffer no matter what he chose, folk he would never know; would never have the chance to know.

He thought about what Ruyi would do. He was thinking about her so much these days—and writing to her so much—it came naturally to him. She always had a way of making complex things simple; she just went with her feelings, and that was that.

Maybe I should too. He sighed and spoke. "Duke Zhu, you make good sense," he said, "but Father's—apologies, that is, General Yang and Duke Huo—are right in this matter. For the good of the realm and its people, we cannot allow this rebellion."

Zhu frowned. “As you wish,” he said silkily and sat back, steepling his fingers. Jin knew at once he had offended the man, but there was nothing for it.

Mother put a hand on his arm, nodding encouragement, and he found his voice. "Prepare your forces," he said. "In three days, we march east."

***

Tingting begged Jin not to hurt her father. He didn't; instead, he threw her father in jail. She thought he might hang her—that was what a lot of the Lower City was clamoring for. They seemed to think she was some kind of monster. For a while, she was too scared to go outside her bedroom after that. She had never been hated like this before.

But, though they hated her, a large part of the dynasty didn't, or so Jin said, especially in the east and the north. She was still a symbol of the old ways, the nobility, and Jin would need the nobility if he was to succeed. So instead, he put a representative of the people on his high council, and he put her there too—a compromise.

He also gave her a spot on his war councils. It was an honorary position, she suspected—he needed to show the crown supported his war—but she was fine with it. She trusted him. In some ways, he was not like Ruyi at all, and in others, he was just like her. His face, in particular, was really pretty; it looked a lot like hers. Sometimes she couldn't bear to look at him.

Today, she sat in on a council for the southern division of the army. Half the army went north, half south, and they would push east together. This meeting featured the two rising generals: Chen Huo on one side, Sen Li on the other, each commanding their own little army. They had been tasked with retaking the Yellow River Valley and its moated fortress.

Only 10 minutes in, and they were already at each other's throats.

"You are a duelist, not a commander, so I understand why you don't know this," snapped General Chen, "but in war, speed is everything. If we let them set up their ballistics, we'll never breach the moat."

"In our duel, I finished your brother in two strikes," General Sen said coldly. "Believe me, I know the virtue of speed. I also know it can be foolish. Rush in and we risk running into a trap. We should scout the land thoroughly before we thread it. It is a matter of a day."

"A day could be the matter of winning and losing! They've only just arrived—they'll see what a gift they've given us, a chance to set up!"

"That is exactly what they want you to think," said Sen. "What we should want is a clean victory. And that requires deliberation. You are not risking my people on some fool charge."

Chen looked like he might explode.

"Um!" said Tingting. She couldn't bear it anymore; every time they spoke, the tightness in her chest got a little worse. She felt like she might explode too. "Um, excuse me.”

They both turned to her at once, glowering, and Tingting nearly lost her voice. "Ah," she said, "what if you split up? What if Huo comes down from the north first and, once they have the defenders distracted, the Li can come up from the flank, once you're sure it's safe? That way, you can both try the ways you want…"

Tingting shrank in the silence. "…Sorry," she mumbled, "just an idea. You don't have to listen to me."

"No, no," said Sen slowly, "that is not a bad idea."

"I'll do it, sure," said Chen Huo. "You?"

"I suppose it is acceptable," Sen agreed.

Sen’s eyes flashed over Tingting again, and Tingting shivered. She was so pretty, and her eyes were sharp as swords; they scared Tingting. Tingting had been so discouraged when she saw Ruyi with her. How could Tingting ever match up?

The meeting ended that way. They all filed out of the palace hall.

As it happened, she and Sen walked out together. At the door, Sen turned to her.

"That was good," said Sen. "You should do that more."

"Oh…" Tingting blushed, "um, thank you…"

Sen stood there, blinking at her. An awkward silence hung between them. Then, not sure what she was waiting for, Sen looked at her hands. "Uh," she said, "right, I'll… get going."

"Okay," said Tingting, "goodbye."

Then they promptly started walking in the same direction.

She saw Sen’s shoulders stiffen. The hall echoed so loudly; you could hear their footsteps together, one right behind the other. The awkwardness was killing her.

Apparently it was killing Sen too, because suddenly Sen turned, red-faced. "Uh," she said, "excuse me." She started walking briskly the other way.

Tingting knew for a fact that wasn't where Sen came from. After Sen turned the corner, she would discover that was a dead end. Tingting blinked at her, then giggled a little.

She could see why Ruyi had liked her—Sen had a harsh face, but maybe she wasn't so harsh underneath.