The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

Jewel put her left hand on her waist and thrust out her hip to make a pretty show of her womanly figure. “The One Above All, I do have my reasons. Please allow me to explain. Legend says that when you were ten years old, the Western Turks raided a northern village. You asked to fight the raiders, but your father’s troops told you to stay in the camp. Instead, you led your men, attacked the enemies, and the rest is history.” She smiled. “Isn’t it so that women, like young boys, may surprise others with what they can do?”

I frowned. It was a clever speech of flattery, but the Emperor would not fall for it.

But he laughed. “What do you want? I shall grant you any wish other than this,” he said.

I could not believe what I had heard. Any wish?

Jewel drew her round fan from her girdle and fanned herself, despite the morning breeze. “Why, the One Above All, my wishes? I wish I had one. I have the adoration of my Emperor. I am the envy of all women. I am the wish all women dream of.” She walked past me. “Is there any wish that would make me happier? Truly, are there any women here, ladies or maids, with titles or without, luckier than me?”

Certainly, no woman in the kingdom could have been more shameless than her.

The Emperor laughed again, his whiskers shaking. It was terrible to see him like that. “From now on, I pronounce you the Lady-in-Waiting, a third-degree lady. Now, go…”

Shock and disbelief overwhelmed me. I could not hear the rest of his words. Jewel had stolen my moment again, and perhaps my reward. That title must have been what the Emperor had had in mind for me.

I raised my head and met the Noble Lady’s gaze. The sense of defeat filled the space between us. I dropped my head, unable to face her.

“Now, if you have objections to me playing, may I request the khans finish the game?” The Emperor faced his vassals, who looked at one another in surprise. They were not familiar with the sport, I could tell. But they stood, pulling up their sleeves.

The drums beat again, and the men raced to the field. But the signs of their defeat were everywhere, the Khan of Tuyuhun lost his mallet the moment he struck, and the Khan of the Eastern Turks gave the ball to the Tibetans.

The Tibetan players scored. Again and again.

Everything was over. First Jewel’s trickery, and now the loss of my title.

“My vassals, come,” the Emperor called out. “I do hope you have entertained yourself. Now I have a surprise for you. You all are aware that a crime was plotted against me last year. Against me! Your Heavenly Khan and the Emperor of Great China!” he bellowed, his face dark, and his forefinger stabbing his chest. “Today, I will show you the fate of a traitor if anyone else dares to plan such an abomination!”

He dropped his hand, and behind me, the Duke pulled aside the veil covering the box. Inside crouched a girl with a slight frame like a monkey. Wearing a sheer white skirt and a triangular red bandeau, she raised her face, and the bright sunlight illuminated her green eyes.

She could not have been older than me—probably younger, even.

I could not understand why the Emperor said she would have the fate of a traitor. She looked innocent, and I could not imagine how she had betrayed him.

“Now I command you all to look at this slave, and look closely. Remember her face, and never forget her fate, for if you, any of you, dare betray me, you shall suffer the same death”—the Emperor’s voice grew louder—“the death under the hooves of horses!”

I was stunned, and around me, the ministers, the vassals, and the ladies looked shocked as well, their mouths open wide, their eyes glittering with fear. But I understood what the Emperor was doing. I had heard enough stories from Father to know that emperors often showed the fate of one person in order to warn the others. It was called “killing a hen in order to frighten the monkeys.”

“Take her!”

A guard pulled the girl out, threw her on his back, and raced to the field. The bystanders rushed to the side, clearing a path for him. He reached the edge and dropped the girl before the horses and the players. A horn blew, and the drummers began to drum. The horses pranced, and the players raised their mallets.

They sped across the field. Behind them the clotted turf swarmed like hungry flies. So fast the horses galloped toward the slight figure. Closer. And closer…

A scream. Long, piercing, and heartrending.

But the drumming grew louder and louder. Boom. Boom. Boom. The fifes joined. Wailing, long and sharp. And the horse hooves pounded. Clop. Clop. Clop.

Something loud cracked, like a hard object suddenly splitting open, and the shriek rose even higher, rattling the platform I was standing on, shaking my black veil, shaking the sleeves of my new gown, and through the maze of the yellow clouds, I could see black speckles—perhaps turf, or blood, or bits of broken bones—flying into the air like useless, deflated polo balls, and plummeted like birds pierced with arrows.

Then all the sounds died.

I retched. And retched again.

? ? ?

Weina Dai Randel's books