As always, I have to thank my editor, Anna Boatman, and my agent, Gail Fortune, for their continued insight and support, no matter where my writing takes me. This story owes a lot to the Tuesday critique group: Amanda Berry, Shawntelle Madison, Kristi Lea and Dawn Blankenship. Thank you for all the feedback, brainstorming and gossip sessions. To my last line of defence: Little Sis, Inez Kelly and Bria Quinlan—I don’t know how I’d be able to ever let a story out of my hands without you. Finally, a special thanks to Inez’s husband, Ryan, and Louise Harrison for their help in the archery scenes.

Praise for Jeannie Lin:

THE DRAGON AND THE PEARL

‘Chang Ai Li flees her wedding and her enraged

bridegroom in Lin’s exciting debut, an adventure tale

set in turbulent eighth-century China.

Especially vibrant writing describing the culture,

clothes, and countryside …’

—Publishers Weekly starred review

‘If Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon merged with A Knight’s Tale, you’d have the power and romance of Lin’s dynamic debut. The action never stops, the love story is strong, and the historical backdrop is fascinating. —RT Book Reviews

‘In BUTTERFLY SWORDS, Jeannie Lin tells a classic

tale of courage, adventure, and impossible love—and she

sets it in a fascinating new world: Tang China, where a

warrior princess must fight for her family and her country

with only a barbarian swordsman to help her. Jeannie

Lin is a fresh new voice in historical romance, and

BUTTERFLY SWORDS rocks!’

—Mary Jo Putney,

New York Times bestselling author of NEVER LESS THAN A LADY

‘Swords, warrior princesses, and a barbarian to love!

BUTTERFLY SWORDS was a delight!’

—Jade Lee, USA TODAY bestselling author

‘What is this?’ he asked slowly. His gaze swept briefly over her face. The frown line between his eyes sharpened.

Her face burned so hot that she doubted she needed the rouge on her cheekbones.

‘We purchased some make-up at the East Market yesterday.’

Fei Long’s lip curled. ‘You look ridiculous.’

Her heart squeezed tight. Then it plummeted, like a crushed and ruined butterfly.

In so few words he had scattered all her confidence, all her hopes. There was no pleasing Fei Long. Not looking at him, she scrubbed at the tint until her lips were raw. She wanted it off—all of it. The powders, the perfume, and all pretence that she could be a lady worth any notice.

‘Yan Ling.’

He rose from his desk to move towards her. She tried to slip past.

In the next moment she caught a glimpse of Fei Long’s face, of his dark and tortured eyes. A muscle tensed along his jaw before he lowered his head …

AUTHOR NOTE

This story was a little bit of a departure from the high drama of my previous works. The Tang Dynasty was a golden age of Chinese culture, and I wanted to explore the vast capital city of Changan with its infamous entertainment district and teeming marketplaces. MY FAIR CONCUBINE allowed me to play a little with a beloved classic theme while adding a Tang Dynasty twist of my own.

For history buffs, the practice of heqin, or peace marriage, was a very important diplomatic practice which the Tang rulers used more than in any other era to keep the peace with neighbouring kingdoms such as Tibet and Khitai. The alliance brides ranged from daughters or nieces of the Emperor to palace women to daughters of court officials. A substantial body of poetry and writing exists about and by the heqin brides, and they achieved a certain legendary status. A famous poem by Princess Xijun, lamenting her marriage ‘to the other side of heaven’, is referenced in the book.

The collection of characters in this tale allowed me to explore people from more humble origins, and their actions unfolded before me like the scenes of a play. There is not much detailed writing on the lives of servants, tea house girls or actors, so I took liberties to fill out the players with my imagination. I hope you enjoy the journey through tea houses and city parks, as well as an adventurous jaunt to the bawdy, seedier side of the imperial capital.

I love hearing from readers. For more information about my stories, or to contact me, I can be found online at www.jeannielin.com

About the Author

JEANNIE LIN grew up fascinated with stories of Western epic fantasy and Eastern martial arts adventures. When her best friend introduced her to romance novels in middle school the stage was set. Jeannie started writing her first romance while working as a high school science teacher in South Central Los Angeles. After four years of trying to break into publishing with an Asian-set historical, her 2009 Golden Heart®-winning manuscript, BUTTERFLY SWORDS, was sold to Harlequin Mills & Boon.

As a technical consultant, backpacker and vacation junkie, she’s travelled all over the United States as well as Europe, South Korea, Japan, China and Vietnam. She’s now happily settled in St Louis, with her wonderfully supportive husband, and continues to journey to exotic locations in her stories.

You can visit Jeannie Lin online at: www.jeannielin.com

Previous novels from this author:

BUTTERFLY SWORDS

THE DRAGON AND THE PEARL

Available in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:

THE TAMING OF MEI LIN

THE LADY’S SCANDALOUS NIGHT

CAPTURING THE SILKEN THIEF

Did you know that these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

My Fair
Concubine

Jeannie Lin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

China, Tang Dynasty—AD 824

Fei Long faced the last room at the end of the narrow hallway, unsheathed his sword and kicked the door open.

A feminine shriek pierced the air along with the frantic shuffle of feet as he strode through the entrance. The boarding room was a small one set above the teahouse below. The inhabitants, a man and a woman, flung themselves into the corner with nowhere to hide.

His gaze fixed on to the woman first. His sister’s hair was unbound and her eyes wide with fear. Pearl had their mother’s thoughtful features: the high forehead and the sharp angles that had softened since the last time he’d seen her. She was dressed only in pale linen underclothes. The man who was with her had enough daring to step in between them.

Fei Long glanced once to the single wooden bed against one wall, the covers strewn wide, and his vision blurred with anger. He gripped the sword until his knuckles nearly cracked with the strain.

‘Bastard,’ he gritted out through his teeth.

He knew this man he’d come to kill. This boy. At least Han had been a boy when Fei Long had last seen him. And Pearl had been a mere girl. Now she was a grown woman, staring at him as if he were a demon risen from the underworld.

‘Fei Long.’ Pearl’s fingers curled tight over her lover’s arm. ‘So now you’ve come.’

The soft bitterness of the accusation cut through him. Pearl had begged for him to come back a year earlier when her marriage had first been arranged, but he’d dismissed her letters as childish ramblings. If he had listened, she might not have thrown herself into ruin and their father’s spirit wouldn’t be floating restlessly between heaven and earth.

The young man stretched himself before Fei Long, though he failed to match him in stature. ‘Not in front of Pearl,’ he implored.

Though he trembled, the boy fought to keep his voice steady as Pearl clung to him, hiding just behind his shoulder. At least the dog managed to summon some courage. If Han had cowered or begged for his life, he would already be dead.

‘Step away, Little Sister,’ Fei Long commanded.

‘No.’

‘Pearl.’

‘I’d rather die here with Han than go to Khitan.’

She’d changed in the five years since he’d seen her. The Pearl he remembered had been obedient, sweet-tempered and pleasant in all things. Fei Long had ridden hard from Changan to this remote province, expecting to find the son of a dog who had stolen her away.

Now that she stood before him with quiet defiance, he knew she hadn’t been seduced or deceived. Zheng Xie Han’s family lived within their ward in the capital city. Though lower in standing, the Zheng family had always maintained a good reputation. His sister had turned to Han because she’d had no one else.

The tension drained out of Fei Long, stealing away his rage. His throat pulled tight as he forced out the next word. ‘Go.’

The two of them stared at him in disbelief.

‘Go,’ he repeated roughly.

Fei Long lowered his weapon and turned away while they dressed themselves. Shoving his sword back into its sheath, he faced the bare wall. He could hear the shuffle of movement behind him as the couple gathered their belongings.

The bleakness of the last few weeks settled into his gut like a stone. When he’d left for his assignment to the north-western garrison, Fei Long had believed his home to be a harmonious place. Upon news of his father’s sudden death, he’d returned to find his sister gone and debt collectors circling the front gates like vultures.

His father’s presence had been an elaborate screen, hiding the decay beneath the lacquered surface of their lives. Fei Long now saw Pearl’s arranged marriage for what it was: a desperate ploy to restore the family honour—or rather to prolong the illusion of respectability.

When he turned again, Pearl and Han stood watching him tentatively. Each of them had a pack slung around their shoulder. Off to face the horizon with all their belongings stowed in two small bags.

Han bowed once. ‘Elder Brother.’

The young man risked Fei Long’s temper to deliver the honorific. Fei Long couldn’t bring himself to return the bow. Pearl met his eyes as they started for the door. The heaviness of her expression struck him like a physical blow.

This was the last time he would ever see his sister.

Fei Long took his money pouch from his belt and held it out. The handful of coppers rattled inside. ‘Here.’

Han didn’t look at him as he took it.

‘Thank you, Fei Long,’ Pearl whispered.

They didn’t embrace. The two of them had been apart for so long that they wouldn’t have known how. Fei Long watched their backs as they retreated down the stairway; gone like everything else he had once known to be true.

‘Jilted lover,’ the cook guessed.

Yan Ling’s eyes grew wide. The stranger had stormed up the staircase only moments earlier with a sword strapped to his side and the glint of murder in his deep-set eyes. She’d leapt out of the path of his charge, just managing to hold on to her pot of tea without spilling a drop.

She stood at the edge of the main room, head cocked to listen for sounds of mayhem upstairs. Her heart raced as she gripped the handle of the teapot. Such violence and scandal were unthinkable in their quiet town.

‘Should someone stop him?’ she asked.

‘What? You saw how he was dressed.’ Old Cook had his feet in the kitchen, but the rest of him strained as far into the dining area as possible. ‘A man like that can do whatever he wants.’

‘Get back to work,’ the proprietor barked.

Yan Ling jumped and the cook ducked his head back through the beaded curtain that separated the main room from the kitchen.

‘Worthless girl,’ her master muttered as she rushed the pot of tea to its intended table. She pressed her fingers against the ceramic to check the temperature of the pot before setting it down. Cooler than ideal, but still hot enough to not get any complaints.

It was late in the morning and the patrons had thinned, but that was never an excuse to move any slower. Lately it seemed nothing she did was fast or efficient enough. She’d never known any life but the teahouse. The story was she’d been abandoned as an infant in the room upstairs, likely the very same one where a new scandal was now unfolding.

She paused to stack empty cups onto a tray. At that moment, the young woman and her companion hurried down the stairs, leaving not even a farewell behind as they swept out the door. Yan Ling expected the sword-carrying nobleman to come chasing after them, but only an uncomfortable silence followed their exit.

The patrons began to whisper among themselves. Her master should be happy. This incident would have the townsfolk lingering over more than a few extra teapots worth of gossip.

When he finally emerged, the gentleman appeared surprisingly calm. He descended the stairs with a steady, powerful stride and his expression was as still as the surface of the moon. Instead of leaving, he marched directly over to the proprietor and flashed an official-looking jade seal. At that point, even the proprietor’s wife flocked over to welcome him. They ushered him to an empty table at the centre of the room, nearly breaking their backs bowing with such enthusiasm. Her master shot Yan Ling a sharp look, which she understood immediately. Bring tea and fast. She rushed to the kitchen.

‘Is there a lot of blood?’ the kitchen boy asked as she pushed through the curtain.

‘Shush.’

She poured hot water over a fresh pot of leaves and flew back out with her hand around the bamboo handle. Back out in the main room, the stranger didn’t even spare her a glance as she poured the first cup for him.

His robe was of fine woven silk and richly dyed in a dark blue. He wore his thick hair long, the front of it pulled back into a knot in the style of aristocracy. She was stricken by the strength of his features: the hard line of his cheekbones and the broad shape of his face, which narrowed slightly at the chin.

With a cursory bow, she set the pot down and moved away. There were other tables to tend to and most patrons wanted to drink their tea in peace. Yet her attention kept on wandering back to the stranger.

Hours later, he was still seated in the same spot. He wasn’t even drinking his tea any more. Instead, he had taken to staring into his cup.

Government official, they guessed in the back room, though he travelled without any escort and had a sullen expression that continued to sink lower as the day slipped by. Her guess was that he needed something stronger than tea.

By the end of the day, Yan Ling moved from table to empty table in a restless circle, wash rag in hand, as she wiped away at wooden surfaces rubbed bare from use. The teahouse crowd had long returned to their homes. Only the nobleman remained, still hoarding his cold tea.

As long as he stayed there, she was supposed to attend to him. Her master had made that very clear while he sat comfortably in the corner, tallying up the cash. The wooden beads of his abacus clicked together, signalling that the day should be done.

Her feet ached and no matter how much she wriggled her toes in her slippers, the feeling wouldn’t quite return to them. The clang from the kitchen meant that the cook and his boy were cleaning their pots. A mountain of cups and bowls and little plates would be waiting for her.

Cook tried to get her to pry information from the man, but of course she wouldn’t do such a thing. He’d suffered enough public scrutiny that day to deserve some privacy. She guessed him to be twenty-five years, with a slight crease between his eyes that she imagined came more from deep contemplation than age.

Gingerly, she approached the table. ‘Does the honoured guest need anything?’

She reached for the clay teapot, only to have him wave her back with an irritated scowl. For a gentleman, he was uncommonly rude, but she supposed wearing silk and jade gave him that privilege. He propped his elbows onto the table, shoulders hunched, to return to his vigil. From the emptiness of his stare, the young woman had to have been someone close to him. His wife? But no man would let his wife escape with a lover after catching them together.

Yan Ling turned to wipe down her already-cleaned table once more when the stranger spoke.

‘I need a woman,’ he mumbled. ‘Any woman would do.’

Her stomach dropped. She swung around, her mouth open in shock. The stranger raised his head. For the first time, his eyes focused on her, looking her up and down.

‘Perhaps even you.’

Any sympathy she might have had for him withered away. If his tone had been leering, or his look more appraising, it might have been less offensive. But the coldly pensive way he’d said it along with the addition of ‘perhaps’, as if to plunge her worth even further—Yan Ling grabbed the teapot and flung the contents at the scoundrel.

The stranger shot to his feet with a curse. With a choked cry, her master jumped up from his table and his wife soared like a windstorm from the kitchen, apologising profusely. Even the cook and his boy were gawking through the curtained doorway.

‘Get out!’ the master’s wife shrieked at Yan Ling before turning to fuss at their precious patron. The front of his expensive robe was stained dark with a splatter of tea.

‘We are so sorry, my lord,’ she crooned. ‘So sorry.’

Yan Ling clutched the teapot between both her hands while she stared.

The nobleman swiped the tea leaves away in one angry motion while his eyes remained fixed on her. He had lost that distant, brooding expression he’d worn all day. The look he gave her was possibly worse than the one she’d seen as he’d charged up the stairs. Heat rose up her neck as she stumbled back.

What had she done?

‘That know-nothing, good-for-nothing girl,’ her master railed.

Her ears rang as she ducked into the kitchen through the beaded curtain. Steam enclosed her, but the clang of the pots couldn’t block the sounds of her master and his wife apologising profusely to the nobleman.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been taunted before, but over the last years the teasing had taken on a different tone as her bone-thin figure had curved its way into womanhood. She’d learned to deafen her ears and stare ahead, never meeting any of the not-so-subtle glances thrown her way. Yet to suffer such insult from someone who appeared so refined—it was unbearable.

Ignoring the curious stares from cook and the kitchen boy, she slipped through the back door. Her palms were damp and she wiped them restlessly against the sides of her grey tunic. Fear set her heart skittering.

The teahouse was where she’d lived all her life, but it was not home. The proprietor and his wife were not her father and mother. This had always been clear to her and she’d had to earn her bed, this roof and every meal with service and obedience.

One moment of hot-headedness. She’d lashed out at a well-dressed nobleman, of all people. She wasn’t even a servant when it came to this man. She was the humble servant of humble servants. Who was she to be outraged?

She would certainly be scolded by both master and mistress, each separately and then together. Yan Ling could hear them already. She had become too much of a burden to feed, to clothe. She wasn’t even pretty enough to bring in more customers. They might even be angry enough to take a bamboo switch to her.

A beating was all she’d have to suffer, if she was lucky.

Fei Long rose after no more than three hours of sleep in the very same sparse boarding room where he’d found Pearl, above the cursed teahouse. There weren’t any other lodgings in this small town. To add to his shame, he’d needed to leave a promissory note with the proprietor affixed with his family seal in return for his stay. All of his money had gone with his sister.

The morning sun streaming through the shutters didn’t bring any more clarity. Brooding over the situation hadn’t given him any solutions either. Once he returned to the capital, he’d have to face the consequences of letting Pearl go. He tied back his hair and dressed himself, attaching his sword at his belt. The robe had dried from the tea that the she-demon had thrown at him. It was a minor mishap in an epic tale of disaster. The tragic tale had started with the unexpected news of his father’s death and would likely end with him throwing himself on the imperial court’s mercy.

A stretch of dirt road separated the inn from the town centre, which was a cluster of wooden buildings overlooking the market area. Beyond this road, the cities would shrink to the tiny villages and settlements barely known to the heart of the empire.

Pearl’s future was left to the open road and to fate now. Perhaps it was a better situation than his. His sister was free without the weight of the family name bearing down on her. As eldest son, as only son, preserving their honour was his burden.

An attendant brought his horse from the stable. As he headed toward the animal, a small, grey figure shot out into the street.

‘My lord!’

A quick glance revealed the teahouse girl scurrying in his direction. He turned his back on her as he took the reins from the attendant.

‘My lord, please wait.’ She sounded harried and out of breath behind him. He didn’t answer as he faced the horse to the street, leading him by the bridle.

‘I must beg your pardon,’ she continued, her footsteps trailing behind his.

So, none of the impudence she’d shown the previous night. He could be generous. It was a small insult considering, and not worth the trouble.

‘Granted.’

He braced his foot in the stirrup to prepare to mount, when a tug at his sleeve stopped him.

The young woman recoiled as he turned to her. ‘Please. Forgive my intrusion, honourable sir. My lord …’

The list of courtesies made him impatient. He frowned as he waited for her to finish. She clasped her hands together nervously and spoke faster.

‘I’ve been thrown out by the teahouse owner!’

Her bottom lip trembled and she looked away, trying to hide the unsightly outburst of emotion. Her hair was tied in a simple fashion and allowed to sweep down over one shoulder. For the first time, he noticed that her eyes were red and slightly swollen.

‘That was not my intention,’ he replied gravely.

Once again, he tried to mount. Again, she reached for him. This time, he stopped before she needed to tug at him. She took two steps away instead of one when he swung around. Did propriety mean nothing to her?

‘I am truly sorry for ruining your robe. I’ll wash it myself,’ she promised. ‘If you can just speak to the proprietor and his wife.’

The horse tossed his head, agitated with the delay. Fei Long felt the same agitation growing within him.

‘This matter is not my concern.’

‘I’m being punished—’

‘As you should be,’ he replied simply.

There was no cruelty in his words. Despite being attacked without provocation, he hadn’t demanded retribution. She was fortunate he didn’t believe in beating servants.

‘But I’ve apologised.’ She blocked his path now, this willow-thin girl who was all eyes and hair. ‘Sincerely, humbly, with all my soul, apologised. Please take pity. Won’t you help me?’

He made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat, which seemed to startle her. She frowned at him.

‘These are your amends to make, not mine, young miss. Go humble yourself before your master and mistress and make your plea with them.’ He started to lead the horse forwards, trying to put some distance between them to show that the matter was closed. ‘Besides, you are not sorry at all.’

For a second, her eyes flashed. Her mouth hardened much like it had back in the teahouse before he found himself drenched in cold tea. If she’d had anything in hand to throw, he would have prepared to duck.

Less than a breath later, her expression grew plaintive and accommodating. ‘But I am sorry, my lord.’ She padded beside him, taking two steps for each of his one. ‘I’ve worked for the teahouse since I was a child. There’s nowhere else I can go. A girl like me out in the streets …’

Her voice trailed away in defeat and Fei Long halted. He was reminded of Pearl, though there was no reason for it. The girl looked nothing like his sister. Unlike Pearl, she was thin, hard-headed and she had a mouth on her.

He’d spared Pearl from the political marriage that their father had arranged, but now she was left to wander without a home. He would always wonder if his actions had truly been a kindness. Unlike Pearl, this tea girl didn’t have anyone by her side.

‘How old are you?’ he asked.

She was taken aback by the question. ‘Nineteen years.’

A little older than Pearl, but that might be a benefit. He already had a sense that this teahouse girl was much shrewder than his sheltered younger sister.

‘Can you read and write?’

‘Only numbers.’

A wispy cloud of an idea had begun to form while he was wallowing at the teahouse last night. A thin spark of light, before it had been effectively doused by a cascade of cold tea flung in his face. The plan came back now as he stared at the same culprit who’d snapped him out of those musings.

‘Smile,’ he said.

She blinked at him warily, then forced her mouth upwards in what ended up looking more like a grimace. He looked down at her feet next. They shrank back from his scrutiny, as she curled her toes back within the slippers.

His gaze returned to her face and he kept his open perusal for assessment purposes only: dark eyes set against smooth skin. Fair enough to pass for a lady’s. The set of her jaw was too hard and her face was on the thin side, though her features were not unpleasant to look at if she didn’t scowl so. Softened a bit she could even be … pretty. Not that beauty was required for what he had in mind.

‘You are more peculiar than I thought,’ she muttered, backing away.

With her head lifted and shoulders raised, as they were right now, she took on a semblance of righteousness and pride that might just be suitable for the part.

He let go of the reins. ‘I have a proposal for you.’

‘I know exactly what sort of proposal you mean.’ She shook an accusing finger at him. ‘I don’t care how rich you are, I was right to pour that tea on you.’

Now it was his turn to pursue her. And it took some effort. She was walking fast down the street.

‘Young miss, let me explain.’

Her step quickened. ‘Leave me alone. I may not be learned or wear expensive clothes like you, but I’m a respectable girl. I won’t do … do that.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

The townsfolk paused in their morning stroll through the marketplace. Their discussion was starting to gather attention.

Fei Long angled himself in front of her, cutting off her escape. He dropped his tone. ‘What I’m proposing is very respectable. A matter of imperial duty, in fact.’

She snorted. He was suddenly convinced that before him was the answer to his dilemma. The teahouse girl had nowhere to go and he needed someone to replace Pearl. Khitan was a rough, untamed land compared to the empire. This she-demon was bold enough to carry off such a deception. She was delicate in appearance at least, and not so hardened that she couldn’t be schooled. There was little elegance about her now, but that could be changed.

There was much work to do before she could pass as a daughter from a good family. They didn’t have much time, but he was convinced it could be done. It had to be done.

‘My family name is Chang, personal name Fei Long,’ he began. ‘My father was an official within the Ministry of Works and our family lives in the capital city. Have you ever been to Changan?’

She looked over one shoulder, then the other, as if reassuring herself that they were indeed in a crowded public area and she was safe from his clutches. ‘No,’ she answered finally.

‘What’s your name, young miss?’ he asked.

If he could get past this polite exchange, then he had a chance of convincing her. Two strangers who exchanged names were, of course, no longer strangers. Even peasants would understand those rules of courtesy.

She took her time assessing him, taking in the height and breadth of him, and staring at the sword in his belt. The girl would duck and bow when necessary, but this was no shy and sheltered nightingale. She had a boldness within her that Pearl lacked. He waited anxiously for her reply. For the first time in weeks, hope burned inside him, embodied in this tiny reed of a girl.

‘I don’t know of my family name,’ she replied, still hesitant. ‘But I’m called Yan Ling.’

‘It’s called heqin,’ he explained.

The nobleman looked to her for acknowledgement and she had to shake her head. Fei Long led his horse down the street while she walked beside him, falling a few paces behind in deference.

‘An arranged peace marriage,’ he continued. ‘My sister was selected to go to the land of Khitan to be married to a foreign lord.’

So the young woman had been his sister. ‘Where is Khitan?’

‘North of the Taiyuan prefecture.’

She nodded. They continued for a few steps.

‘Where is Taiyuan?’

He paused and her face grew hot as he regarded her, but there was no need to be ashamed. Of course he knew more than she did about foreign lands. She’d only left town a few times to accompany her master to major festivals. The thought of leaving town now with Fei Long frightened her, but the thought of being left to the streets frightened her more.

‘I can show you a map some time,’ he said, in a tone that was not unkind.

She wasn’t entirely convinced of his mad tale. And if she did believe him, was it even possible for her to pose as his sister? Everything she said or did felt awkward next to Chang Fei Long. Anyone could see they weren’t from the same breed.

‘You said they were expecting a princess. I’m no princess.’

‘Neither was my sister, Pearl.’

He slowed his stride to match hers and Yan Ling felt especially small, more from the authority in his bearing than from his actual size.

‘A past emperor gave one of his favourite daughters away in an alliance marriage to a barbarian chieftain,’ he explained. ‘The story has since become quite famous. Have you heard of it?’

He paused to look at her and again she shook her head. They didn’t speak of the comings and goings of the imperial family in their little teahouse.

‘The princess wept and begged for her father to reconsider, composing verses of poetry lamenting what she considered her exile from her beloved empire,’ he recounted. ‘But the Son of Heaven couldn’t rescind the agreement to his ally. When the princess left for foreign lands, the Emperor was heartbroken. When another neighbouring kingdom petitioned for a Tang princess, the Emperor chose one of his concubines and bestowed the title of princess upon her. The newly appointed princess went to fulfil the alliance rather than the Emperor’s true blood.’

‘So now our Emperor wants to send an imposter instead?’ she asked.

‘It’s not uncommon. The alliance brides may be nieces or distant members of the imperial family. Occasionally even daughters of high-ranking court officials might be chosen. It was a great honour to our family when my sister, Pearl, was elevated to the rank of princess.’

Yan Ling stared at him, trying to sort out the strangeness of such whimsical decrees. ‘Wouldn’t that make you a prince?’

‘Not quite—however, the decree does bestow imperial favour and duties upon our family.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘Duties that cannot be refused.’

She supposed the divine Emperor could do whatever he wished. ‘But what if the barbarians find out they don’t have a real princess?’

‘It doesn’t matter. The political arrangement itself is the important part. The marriage seals the agreement and the title is just a formality showing the Emperor’s commitment.’

She didn’t like the thought of being a peace offering, travelling to this faraway place along with bolts of silk and a fleet of horses. Hadn’t Fei Long practically looked her over as if she were a horse? Checking her teeth, checking her feet to see that they were small enough to belong to a high-born lady.

‘Tang princesses are highly valued in the barbarian lands,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll have every need taken care of.’

A ripple of pleasure ran through her, lazy and warm with promise. She would never need to worry about being cold or hungry again. Her back wouldn’t ache from serving customers from the first light of day to deep in the night.

‘I couldn’t even imagine this if it were a dream. You’re just telling stories,’ she accused.

‘It’s true.’

‘Then why did your precious sister run away? If I were Miss Pearl, I would never give up such an opportunity.’

He tensed. Only the twitch of a muscle along his jaw revealed any emotion. ‘She was young with … romantic notions. Not thinking of reason or duty.’ He met her eyes, his gaze scrutinising. ‘You seem much more practical.’

‘I am very practical,’ she agreed. The teahouse had always been about survival and keeping a roof over her head.

They stopped before the town’s civil office. Without a word, the nobleman handed her the reins and strode through the front gate, completely assured in her compliance. The horse paced a few restless steps while she clutched at the reins with a life-and-death grip.

‘Stop,’ she commanded in a fierce whisper. ‘Hear me? Stay still, you.’

She prayed the horse wouldn’t run off. If it decided to, she’d be dragged along with it. She didn’t know how to tame a horse. In truth, she didn’t know how to do much more than serve customers in a teahouse. So she stood with the reins wrapped twice around her hand and considered her situation.

To be a princess, even a false one, would be like being reborn into the next life. Perhaps the stars of her birth weren’t as dim as she’d always thought. She wanted very much to believe Fei Long, but there were plenty of stories about tricksters travelling the countryside, collecting young women in order to sell them off to brothels. Fei Long could very well be one of those scoundrels, though he struck her as honest. Maybe too much so. If anything, he seemed lost in this fancy scheme of his.

At times, he intimidated her with his proper manners and knowledge. At other times, she considered smacking him across that thick skull of his—which had been the start of all her troubles.

Fei Long emerged from the gates and came towards her, holding a pouch in his hand.

She gave up the reins with relief. ‘What is that?’

‘I have to settle with the teahouse. An honourable man repays all his debts.’

From the heft and size of the pouch, it must have held more coins than a month’s take at the teahouse. She chuckled.

‘What do you find so funny?’

‘They just gave that to you?’

‘Yes,’ Fei Long said, puzzled.

She laughed outright. She couldn’t help herself. For some reason, this was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. She recalled the jade seal that he had shown at the teahouse, which practically had her master kow-towing.

‘They just give you money …’ she caught her breath between gasps ‘… for nothing!’

She shook her head and grabbed at her sides. They ached from laughing so hard. When she looked up, Chang Fei Long was glaring at her.

‘Our family name is good as a guarantee of payment,’ he said stiffly.

She sucked in a breath and tried to compose herself. Of course it wasn’t funny to him that someone like her would never touch money of her own, no matter how hard she laboured. Lord Chang simply had to walk into a municipal office. Yet she was the beggar, he the nobleman.

Money from air. All things were possible—even a peasant posing as a princess in a foreign land.

‘Yes,’ she said, in a long-delayed answer to his proposal. ‘Yes, I’ll go with you, my lord.’

They headed back towards the teahouse then. Her former master would see that she was leaving town with the same gentleman they’d thrown her out over. The thought had her doubling over in laughter once more.

Chapter Two

The journey was a quiet one, with Yan Ling plodding onwards in her slippers while the nobleman rode alongside on his horse. She’d been full of questions at first. How far away was the imperial city and what was his home there like? Fei Long, or Lord Chang, as she was coming to think of him, had a tendency toward short answers. The silence and the ache in her feet slowly drained away her initial sense of adventure.

She stole glances at Chang Fei Long, trying to work out what sort of man she’d tied herself to. It was odd to have such a young master. He was confident in the saddle and the sword at his side seemed like a natural part of him. Everything about him spoke of nobility, from the upward tilt of his chin to the way his shoulders were always pulled back. She tried to imitate his stance when he wasn’t looking and her back grew stiff after a few minutes of it.

He must have been wealthy to live in the capital, though he travelled without any attendants. From what little she’d ascertained, he hadn’t carefully planned this trip to the provinces.

‘Are you tired?’ he asked when they stopped for a rest.

‘No, my lord.’

He’d taken care of watering and feeding the horse, while she stood watching and wondering what her new duties were. The thin slippers she wore were not fit for travel, but she didn’t dare complain even though her feet throbbed with a constant ache. Fei Long was frowning at her so she made sure to remain as quiet as possible.

‘We need to make better time,’ he grumbled.

Maybe she was wrong about him being young. He certainly had the temperament of a grumpy old man at times.

She bit into the steamed bun he’d bought from a street vendor that morning before they’d left town. The pork filling was cold, but she appreciated the savoury sweetness of it. The journey had left her drained. Keeping her mouth full also ensured she couldn’t misspeak. The nobleman might still decide he didn’t need the extra trouble of bringing her along. Surely there were more suitable young women in the imperial city. If he abandoned her out on the open road, she’d have nowhere to go.

A sense of helplessness hovered over her as she finished the meal. She didn’t know Chang Fei Long’s moods yet and it was her duty as a servant to learn those things. He said so little, unlike her former master and mistress who’d had no issues about complaining long and loud.

When he swung himself onto his horse without a word, Yan Ling was certain he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. She started preparing her plea, but instead he extended his hand.

‘Come,’ he said, when she didn’t move. ‘You barely weigh a tan. The horse can carry us both.’

His broad fingers engulfed her slender ones. He tightened his hold to tug her upwards as she braced her foot over his in the stirrup. It was miserable beyond description. She felt like a rag doll, hefted onto the back of the saddle. They were higher off the ground than she had anticipated and she wobbled, clutching on to Fei Long’s robe. Fortunately he held on to her and finally got her settled in behind him.

She was pressed against him, closer than she’d ever been to any man. The expanse of his back and shoulders stretched out before her and her first thought was—how was she supposed to hold on? The warmth of him lingered even after he let go.

Yan Ling had never clung to a man like this, the intimacy all the worse for being forced. She’d never ridden a horse before either and was certain she’d fall and break a bone. The horse gave a snort and shifted forwards. In a panic, she grabbed on to Fei Long’s waist, hugging him too tightly. He tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder and she loosened her grip. She shifted on the saddle, trying to find her balance. Eventually she settled on holding on to his shoulders.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her with his back to her like that. ‘Yes, my lord.’

He urged the horse forwards with a slight movement of his heels. Yan Ling tried her best not to touch him too much as she swayed upon the saddle.

The sky was beginning to darken when they reached a walled city. The guards stepped aside to let them pass and Fei Long quickly located an inn along the main avenue. They left the horse to an attendant and headed to a brightly lit restaurant. The double doors were thrown open in welcome. Kitchen smells of garlic and cooking fat wafted out into the streets.

Yan Ling fell into step behind Fei Long as he entered the dining area. The day before, he’d entered their little teahouse with the same assured grace. The host spotted them across the crowded dining room, or rather he noticed Fei Long in his fine robe, and hurried over to greet a valued patron. They were directed to a table at the back and she stood awkwardly while Fei Long seated himself and spoke to the host.

She took to looking about the room. The place was twice the size of their teahouse and nearly every table was full. Her fingers ached just looking at the number of bowls and plates out on the tables. It would take hours to wash all the dishes in a place like this.

A young attendant came by carrying tea. Yan Ling shot forwards to intercept him and there was a brief struggle as she gripped the edges of the lacquered tray.

‘Hand it over,’ she scolded, managing to take possession of the tea without spilling a drop. The boy gave her a confused look before wandering off.

She placed the tray onto the table and arranged the porcelain cup neatly in front of Fei Long. At least this was something she knew how to do. The nobleman watched her with that penetrating gaze of his as she poured. When the cup was full, she set the pot down and stepped back with immense relief. This was harder than she’d ever imagined and they were only one day into the trip. What would be expected of her once they reached the great city of Changan?

‘Yan Ling.’ Her name sounded strange coming from his lips. So proper and enunciated. It was almost too elegant to be hers. He gestured to the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down.’

She complied, folding her hands in her lap nervously as she waited. Steam rose from the pot beside her. Fei Long reached for the handle and poured her a cup. She took it from his hands obligingly, but refrained from drinking since he hadn’t yet touched his tea.

He watched her with eyes that were dark and thoughtful. ‘You’re not my servant.’

Tm … I’m not?’

He shook his head, looking a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself. ‘You’re not required to attend to me. You are here to learn and I am here to teach you.’

She nodded fervently, though she still didn’t understand. This situation was growing even worse. The uncertainty of it left her bewildered and anxious. In the teahouse she knew exactly what was supposed to be done from the moment she woke up.

‘What am I to learn?’ she asked.

‘Manners. Etiquette. How to write, how to speak. Everything that would be expected of a heqin bride.’

Everything? ‘When was your sister supposed to leave for Khitan?’

‘In three months.’

Her stomach sickened. Lord Chang didn’t look happy either. Or maybe he always frowned like that. She’d seen that look more on his face than any other. He lifted his cup and she mirrored his movement. The tea was a bit hot so she blew over it gently.

‘You shouldn’t do that.’

She flinched at the reprimand. Hot liquid splashed over her fingers.

‘Wait for the tea to cool and sip slowly.’ He demonstrated while she stared at him incredulously. She did the same, not daring to do much more than touch her lips to the rim.

‘And when you took the cup from me, you did it with one hand.’

Had she?

‘Two hands,’ he went on. ‘With a slight bow of your head as you accept the cup.’

Heaven and earth, she didn’t even know how to drink tea properly! She, who had grown up in a teahouse. But she’d never had the opportunity to accept a cup of tea from anyone. She poured her own tea and drank it in the kitchen with the rest of the servants.

‘Two hands. Slight bow,’ she recited under her breath.

The next minutes were excruciating. They sat and sipped tea as if it was a sacred ritual, and apparently it was. Fei Long told her about entire classical texts written about tea. She glanced at him over the rim of her cup while she drank. With every moment, she waited for the next arrow to fly: sit straight, head up. No, head too high.

‘Are you a general in the imperial army?’ she blurted out.

‘No. Why?’

He did carry a sword and seemed to like giving commands. ‘I was just wondering,’ she said, glowering.

‘I serve as a squad captain in the north-western garrison,’ he answered stiffly. ‘But I had to leave to attend to my father’s affairs.’

She nodded. Her neck was tired from nodding. ‘That’s a very powerful position, then?’

He stared at her. She realised she was staring back and lowered her gaze.

‘No,’ he replied after a pause, regarding her intently, as if she’d said something highly improper, and took a methodical sip of tea. ‘It is a very worthy post.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. ‘I’m certain it must be.’

She didn’t know a thing about military rankings or the exalted history of tea. Every day would have to be like this if she was going to learn what she needed to know.

Yan Ling was exhausted by the time the food came, but she was grateful to have something besides the nobleman’s discerning stare to occupy herself. Her mouth watered at the dishes placed before her. The journey had worked up her appetite and she piled slices of pork along with sautéed bamboo shoots and greens onto her rice. The flavours were rich with a blend of garlic and chilli. Indeed, a meal for a princess.

Not two bites in, the arrows started again.

‘Slowly,’ he reprimanded in a low voice.

Weariness had beaten down her defences. She narrowed her eyes and shot him a poisoned look of her own. It missed the mark, though. Fei Long was looking downwards, concentrating on the motion of his balanced chopsticks as he ate with perfect moderation.

Fei Long had occasionally travelled with servants. They rarely needed instruction, always knew their place and moved about unnoticed and unseen. He didn’t know what to do with someone who was untrained and without a predetermined role and function. This became painfully obvious when he went to his room at the inn and found that Yan Ling had followed him dutifully into the chamber.

She blinked at him, awaiting some instruction undoubtedly. When none came, she turned and headed to the door. He let out a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. Yan Ling closed the door and once again faced him, hands folded. Waiting.

The family’s servants and hired hands always disappeared somewhere once they settled down for the night. He didn’t know where. He didn’t care where.

‘Yan Ling.’

‘My lord?’

He preferred not to think of her as a female as they travelled together, but it was hard not to once they were alone like this. He considered calling for the innkeeper and asking for some other place for her, but that was impossible. Where would they put a lone young woman? He had proposed this scheme and taken her along with him, which meant her well being and safety was now his responsibility. And nothing was more important to Fei Long than his responsibilities.

The low platform of the bed lay against one wall. He gathered the bamboo mat that had been laid over the top of it.

He deposited the rolled mat in Yan Ling’s arms. ‘Take any spot you wish. Sleep well.’

She looked left and right. The situation was clearly as uncomfortable for her as it was for him. Quickly, quietly, she moved to the furthest corner from the bed. He averted his eyes and prepared himself for sleep, striving to ignore whatever was happening in the corner.

First he removed his sword and then started to undo his outer robe. He paused with his hand over his belt and glanced over his shoulder.

Yan Ling had arranged the mat in the corner. She was lying upon it with her back to him. Her slippers were arranged neatly beside the mat and she’d untied her hair. He stared at the black curtain that fell down her back. An unbidden thought came to him and he wished it hadn’t.

‘Miss Yan Ling.’

She lay very still. Too still to be asleep. ‘Yes?’

Her voice sounded muffled and she didn’t face him, an act for which he was grateful. His throat grew dry with embarrassment, but he had to know.

‘Your virtue—’ The miserable words lodged in his throat. He coughed. ‘Is it … intact?’

She gasped and spun into motion, twisting around to push herself up to sitting position. ‘What are you suggesting? I told you I’m a good girl.’

‘Nothing,’ he said in a rush. ‘I’m not suggesting anything.’

He took a step forwards, which launched her backwards. Her back collided against the wall.

‘You stay right there!’ She shook a finger at him.

‘I didn’t bring you with me to claim you for myself, I’ve been honest with my reasons from the first. You need to be pure to be married to Khitan.’ Heavens above, his face was on fire.

‘Well, I know what happens when men and women are together alone.’

‘I don’t think of you in that way,’ he insisted.

Irresistibly Fei Long was plagued by a flicker of an image of the two of them, his arms around her bamboo-thin form, which he immediately tried to banish. Damn it all. It was only because she was insinuating it.

‘Intentions can change quickly.’ Yan Ling’s gaze narrowed on him as she reached for her slippers. ‘Male, female, there’s no logic to it in the heat of things. I’m sleeping outside.’

He moved to block the door before she could rise. Now he was starting to get irritated. ‘My intentions won’t change. Do you want me to swear it?’

She stared at him wide-eyed, one hand clasped to the neck of her tunic. Her skin was pale against the grey fabric and her hair fell over her eyes. ‘How can you be assured you won’t act differently in a … in a storm of passion?’ she forced out.

He almost laughed at her then, and at himself as well. There was an easy solution to this that they had both forgotten.

‘There will be no “storm of passion”. I know who I am,’ he said calmly. ‘And I know who you are.’

She regarded him warily. ‘So?’

‘We’re from very different classes in society.’

‘Yin and yang know no class,’ she retorted.

‘But I do and I won’t forget,’ he promised. ‘Ever. I swear I won’t touch you. It’s in neither of our best interests.’

She pulled away from the wall, but remained crouched and defensive. ‘Because I’m of a lower standing than you, you’d never touch me?’

‘Yes.’

Her shoulders remained tense. She seemed to be struggling with his logic, but finally she came to some resolution. ‘I suppose, my lord, that I should find that a comfort,’ she muttered.

He was left trying to decipher the sudden bite in her tone as she returned the slippers to the edge of the mat. She lowered herself to the ground, keeping her eyes directed away from him.

‘Yes, my virtue is intact,’ she said. ‘And I trust it will remain so.’

She curled up again and turned to the wall. Carefully, he returned to other side of the room and sat down on the bed. There were ten or so more nights of this madness between here and Changan. Ten more nights.

He would need to be sure to have a place secured for her wherever they stayed to avoid this mishap in the future. There was a reason for rules and codes of conduct in society. Everyone knew his place in the scheme of family, home and country. As long as every man served his purpose, no one was led astray. They hadn’t even reached Changan or started playing the game yet, but the shift in their statuses was already causing disorder and strife.

Fei Long watched the small figure in the corner. It wasn’t long before the tension eased away from Yan Ling and her breathing grew soft and deep. The journey had been a long one that day and she wasn’t accustomed to riding. He remembered the first time he’d spent most of the day in the saddle in the early part of his military training. Every muscle had ached and he’d fallen asleep before hitting the pallet.

He extinguished the lantern and pulled the quilt over himself as he lay back on the wooden platform. Yan Ling had pushed on that day with little complaint and tried her best to learn. Those qualities showed both strength and determination. This common tea girl was more than she appeared.

Think only of success, Sun-Tzu had taught. Fei Long would think only of success and he had ten days to lay out a plan.

For tonight, he decided not to remove his outer robe while he slept.

Chapter Three

Yan Ling gradually stirred to the chill of the air. The sharpness of it made her curl up into a tight ball. Instinctively, she tucked her chin to her chest and folded her feet close to her body to conserve warmth. Maybe she could coax a few more minutes of sleep out of the morning before the clanging in the kitchen woke her up.

Suddenly a soft weight fell over her, cutting off the chill. A hand settled gently over her shoulder and she jolted awake. Her arm shot out, her knuckles colliding against something solid.

‘The death of me—!’

The startled cry chased the last of the sleep from her. This was not her pallet. She was no longer in the teahouse. She sat up and found herself clutching a woven blanket. Fei Long was crouched at the edge of the mat, one hand pressed over his left eye.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

‘You looked cold,’ he growled.

She stared at the blanket that had mysteriously appeared around her. Fei Long lowered his hand from his face, though he still winced from the blow. In the morning light she could make out every line of displeasure over his well-defined features.

‘Forgive me,’ she squeaked out.

‘If I had known you could hit like that, I wouldn’t have worried about your virtue.’

Was he … was he teasing her? Nothing else about his manner said so. His dark hair fell loose about his shoulders, giving him an untamed look that shocked her to her toes. The haze of the morning and his disarray made the moment uncomfortably intimate, though he was blinking at her with more ire than usual. She clutched the blanket tighter around herself.

Fei Long pulled himself to his feet and removed himself to the other side of the chamber. A knock on the door provided a momentary distraction. She went to open the door and the attendant presented her with a wash basin. Dutifully, she carried it to the table beside the bed and set it down.

The nobleman had his back to her. He ran his hands over his hair and then tied it into a topknot with a strip of cloth. In a coordinated dance, she returned to her corner to fold the blanket and roll up the mat while he moved to use the wash basin. She was accustomed to such rituals growing up in the cramped quarters of the teahouse kitchen. This was how people living in the same small space without doors or screens allowed each other some privacy.

In a breach of such politeness, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Fei Long rolled his sleeves back in two crisp tugs at each arm. Dipping his hands into the basin, he splashed water over his face. It slid down over his chiselled jaw and throat and she didn’t realise she was staring until he caught her. A sharp line formed over his eyes.

‘My lord,’ she intoned by way of apology. Her face burned as she rushed over to hand him a wash cloth.

He took the cloth from her without a word while blood rushed to her face. In many ways, looking at him so boldly was a worse transgression than dousing him with tea in anger. She held her breath and waited to be reprimanded.

‘The water is still warm,’ came his brusque reply. He pressed the cloth to his face and took his sword from the bedside before leaving the room.

She had to remember that Chang Fei Long was well-born and well-mannered. Everything had to be done with care. More so when they reached the capital and she began to train to be an alliance bride.

Blessedly alone, Yan Ling used the water to quickly wash. One of the few belongings she’d taken from the teahouse was a wooden comb. She untangled her hair and concentrated on braiding it back out of her face. She had to at least look presentable now that she was attending a nobleman. Fei Long returned just as she tied the end.

‘We have some things to do before leaving the city,’ he said.

Unlike the day before, he had plenty to say while they took their morning tea and meal. He needed supplies, she needed clothes. She hadn’t considered how ragged she must look beside him. Her grey tunic was over a year old and had been patched at the elbows.

By the time they rode out, she was outfitted in a leaf-green robe made of light cotton. She ran her hands wondrously over the sleeves. The weave of it was finer than anything she’d ever worn. What would the townsfolk think of him buying her such fancy clothing as if she were a—she blushed to even think of it—a pampered concubine?

Fei Long was intent on using every moment of the day now for education. He recited a classic titled The Three Obediences and Four Virtues to her while they rode, asking her at intervals to repeat back what she’d just learned.

‘You have a good memory,’ he said at one point.

It might have been the very first compliment he’d ever paid her. Perhaps it would make up for her rough, provincial manners.

Ten days passed quicker than Fei Long had anticipated. Changan, the imperial capital, stood a day away. They only had a few months before Pearl was supposed to take her place as princess. Fortunately, Yan Ling was a quick learner. He had drilled her on etiquette and her dialect had shifted slightly to mimic the patterns of speech of the capital.

‘We’ll be in the city by late in the afternoon,’ he told her.

Their morning tea had become the staging point for the day’s goals. Yan Ling listened intently as she did every day.

‘The mourning period over my father’s death provides us some privacy,’ he continued.

‘When did you lose your father?’

‘Over a month now.’

‘Such a loss.’ She quieted and bowed her head reverently before speaking again. ‘Your family must be saddened by the loss.’

‘That’s a private matter.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ She bit her bottom lip.

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Do what?’ In her nervousness, she bit down even harder.

For now, he decided to let it go. Yan Ling needed to learn that she was no longer in the common room of a teahouse with its hum of chatter and gossip.

‘His death was unexpected,’ he said.

Fortunately, she took his cold tone to mean there would be no more questions. Of course there was sadness. His father, the man who had given him life and raised him, was gone. But Fei Long didn’t have time to grieve. As soon as he’d returned, everyone had surrounded him, asking him, ‘What now?’ Pearl was nowhere to be found. He’d let the household mourn in his stead. There were too many new responsibilities as eldest son and the new head of the household.

‘You’ll be carried in a palanquin into the city.’

‘What’s a palanquin?’

‘A litter. You’ll sit inside while we enter. It wouldn’t do for you to be seen. Too many questions.’

Her lips moved in a silent conversation with herself as she recited his instructions. He found the habit endearing and took a sip while he watched her.

‘Once you’re installed in our family residence, there will be a whole new set of lessons,’ he continued. ‘You’ll need to learn how to read and write. We’ll also need to practise court etiquette—entirely different than private etiquette.’

Her lips pouted and she blew out an exasperated breath. This part he didn’t find quite as endearing.

‘You’ll need to practise controlling your expressions,’ he reminded her. ‘And not make such faces all the time.’

‘I wasn’t making a face, my lord.’

‘You were.’

‘What does it matter when it’s just the two of us?’ she demanded.

They hadn’t had many arguments during their journey, but this was a recurring one.

‘Practise these habits all the time and they’ll come naturally,’ he said, forcing patience. ‘Remember, you were not accustomed to being heard or seen as a servant. Others will be watching you now. At times you’ll be the centre of attention, such as when you’re presented to the Khagan.’

‘Surely I have better manners than a foreign barbarian,’ she scoffed.

His lips twitched. ‘That is a matter for debate.’

She opened her mouth to argue, but the carriers had arrived with the palanquin.

‘Come, it’s time.’

He led her out to the street, noting that her back was held straighter, her head an inch higher. The carriers afforded her a slight bow as she approached. His chest swelled with pride. This was going to work.

Of course, it was hard to dismiss his dishonesty. He was deliberately deceiving the imperial court. Two courts, if he counted the kingdom of Khitan. But all parties were getting what they wanted. Khitan received an alliance and a princess and the Tang Empire didn’t have to worry about barbarian attacks from the north at least for a few years. Yan Ling would be taken care of. His family name and honour would be preserved for ancestors and heirs alike. So many good deeds had to balance out one black one.

He stepped forwards to pull aside the curtain on the sedan himself. Yan Ling paused as she was about to duck inside.

‘Wait—should I call you “Elder Brother”? Will you call me Pearl?’

‘There’s no need for that. You’ll be safely inside the family residence.’

‘What about the other servants? Will they know?’

Her voice was pitched higher now. The prospect of going to Changan was making them both anxious. Fei Long pressed a hand to the small of her back and gave her a slight push into the compartment.

‘We’ll work everything out later.’ He drew the curtain over the opening to cut off her protest.

As he made his way towards his horse, the side curtain flew open. Yan Ling peered out, framed by the window. Her eyes appeared wide and curious in her delicate face.

‘What if someone asks me who I am? What will I tell them?’

He strode back to the litter with purpose. ‘You won’t have to say a thing. Why would anyone even talk to you? Such nonsense.’

With that, he dragged the curtain closed and went to lift himself onto the saddle.

Think only of success.

The morning went by without event. A nagging silence surrounded him without Yan Ling behind him on the saddle. Every flutter of the curtain drew his eye. More than once, he wanted to ride up alongside the transport to speak to her. Not that he had anything to say. He had the urge to see her, if only to make sure that she was secure. So much depended on Yan Ling.

The earthen walls of Changan appeared over the horizon when they were deep into the afternoon. Soon the expanse of the city filled the view. Imperial banners flew from the battlements and the arches of the East Gate opened before them.

He tapped against the litter. ‘We’re here.’

Two fingers peeked through the curtain to pull it open just a slit. ‘Heaven and earth,’ Yan Ling breathed. ‘So magnificent.’

Whenever he returned from the outer provinces, the vastness of Changan always struck him with renewed awe. The exterior wall stretched on for several li. Within the main gates, the city was divided into further compartments, each ward a small community with shops and neighbourhoods. Throughout the city, there were numerous parks and lakes and canals. Changan could swallow entire cities within its depths.

A squad of city guards was stationed at the East Gate. They allowed them in after a cursory inspection of his seal. Inside, the city opened up to the familiar grid pattern of criss-crossing avenues. The family mansion was within the residential area just beyond the East Market.

A muted call came from inside the sedan. ‘My lord … Lord Chang. Elder Brother.’

He turned his head to see a slight part in the curtain, enough to reveal the curve of Yan Ling’s cheek and one brightly inquisitive eye.

‘Are those pears in the trees?’ she whispered in delight.

The avenue was lined on either side with fruit trees, planted years ago under imperial order. With a hand on the reins, he directed his horse toward the round yellow fruit. The branch shook as he twisted one free before returning to the palanquin to pass it through the window. Then he gestured towards the curtain, making an abrupt, horizontal motion. She flashed him a quick smile, with only the corner of her mouth visible, before disappearing back inside.

The palanquin joined the heavy traffic along one of the main avenues. Even though they were within the city, it would be at least another hour before they reached the mansion. At that time he’d have to sneak Yan Ling into the household and enlist the help of the servants. Discretion and loyalty were key to the plan. A single whisper of gossip could travel a hundred li and have them all in chains.

If Yan Ling had been asked to describe in one word how the imperial capital differed from her home town, she would have said it was the colours. She’d grown up in a muted world of greys and browns. Their clothing was of the plainest cotton, without the indulgence of special dyes. The buildings were erected from stone and wood. Even the river was murky as it wound through the forest green.

Now that she was in the capital, wealth didn’t look like the gleam of gold and silver. Wealth was in the red banners cascading from the balconies of the wine-houses and restaurants of Changan. The rainbow bolts of silk in the marketplace. Even the fruit piled in the stalls sparkled like jewels: rosy peaches and startling pink dragonfruit with green-tipped scales.

The buildings were all ornamented and painted. The structures climbed ostentatiously upwards, reaching towards heaven. The citizens themselves walked side by side in luxurious brocades. Their sleeves hung to the ground, enough material for an entire new garment, yet used for mere adornment.

The pear in her hands had been kissed warm by the sun. Fei Long’s fingers had brushed inadvertently against hers when he had handed it to her. For all his rigid manners, he was good at heart and kind in the most unexpected ways. She bit into the pear, enjoying the crisp sweetness as she wondered what other surprises the city would bring.

She wouldn’t live here for long, Yan Ling reminded herself. After the spring and before summer was done, a caravan would take her north to the frontier of Khitan, but this one look alone at the imperial capital was worth it.

A long time passed, made longer by the confinement. Restlessness took over and then boredom. She wanted to burst out of the sedan and take in the city, but Fei Long had warned her about staying hidden. Finally the transport halted and she was lowered to the ground.

They were here. She fixated on the curtain in front of her. Her palms began sweating and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat. What would await her on the other side? Fei Long had spoken very little about his household. There was Pearl who had run away and the elder Lord Chang who was no longer with them.

The curtain opened and Fei Long was there. He met her eyes and a silent flicker disrupted his expression before it settled like the surface of a pond. He extended his hand and she took it. His was firm and steady while hers trembled. She stepped outside and peered around the corner like a mouse avoiding a cat’s paw.

‘That’s not Pearl!’

They had stopped in an alleyway, away from the main street. A young woman dressed in a light blue robe stood before a side gate. Her clothing marked her as a servant and her tone marked her as a long-time one.

‘I’ll explain later.’ Fei Long placed a hand to Yan Ling’s back to propel her forwards. The gesture was not at all reassuring. ‘Dao, take Miss Yan Ling to Pearl’s room.’

Dao appeared close to her in age. The girl threw her an assessing look before bowing dutifully and opening the gate. Yan Ling looked to Fei Long for one last sign of reassurance, but he was tending to the business of paying the porters.

The gateway led into a spacious courtyard surrounded by rooms on all sides. A well-tended garden filled the space, complete with manicured trees, rock sculptures and a wooden pavilion at the centre. Through the portal at the far end, she could see a front courtyard as well. Fei Long’s home truly was a mansion.

The pathway winding through the courtyard was covered with smooth river stones. Yan Ling halted in the middle of it and turned in a full circle to take in the sight of the buildings surrounding the garden. Covered walkways lined each side. A hum of voices and activity came from within the chambers.

‘Please come with me, miss. The private chambers are in the back of the house.’

Dao was watching her carefully. The servant girl had a soft, peach-shaped face and elegant almond eyes that were narrowed with scrutiny, though her expression remained tranquil. Her hair was parted in the middle and tied in two long tails that framed either side of her face.

Yan Ling gave the garden one last glance before following Dao into an interior corridor. The bedchamber itself was cool and quiet. A stream of light filtered in through a window that faced the courtyard. A painted screen divided the room in two with a sitting area near the door and a more private sleeping area arranged in back.

Dao bowed as she prepared to take her leave. Yan Ling thanked her and bowed in return. That caused some confusion. The servant paused, blinked at her, then bowed one more time before retreating and closing the door.

Once she was alone, Yan Ling took a turn about the chamber, unable to resist running her fingers over the polished finish of the furniture in the sitting area. The chair cushions were embroidered with a peony pattern and the wood was nearly black with a reddish tint. It would be a shame to sit on such pretty chairs. Her legs were still stiff from sitting in the sedan for most of the day anyway.

She imagined the precious Pearl would have sat before the low table to take her morning tea and do whatever else it was that high-born women did to fill their days. Fei Long hadn’t said much about that. Perhaps he didn’t know either. He seemed to rely on the Four Virtues for his knowledge of the practices of women, which led her to believe there would be courtesy and harmonising—with what, she wasn’t quite sure—and perhaps some needlework.

The bed was another adventure. The padded bedding was placed within an alcove that receded into the wall. Yan Ling took off her slippers and crawled inside on her hands and knees, feeling like she was exploring a cave.

At the teahouse, her bed had been a thin mat within the storeroom, warmed with residual heat from the stove in the kitchen. Here she could roll over several times and still be in bed. She lay down and tried exactly that. She rolled over once towards the wall and then again, giggling to herself. All this room for one little teahouse girl.

She stood and inserted her feet back into her slippers. Back in the sitting area, she chose a chair and seated herself, making extra effort to keep her spine straight and her shoulders back. Chang Fei Long had been both kind and generous to give her this chance. She would work her hardest to repay him.

The chamber door opened again. At first she thought that the servant girl Dao had returned, but it was evident from the flowing robes and the glitter of jewels around her neck that this was a lady of the house.

‘Oh! You’re not Pearl,’ the woman said as she glided into the room in a cloud of amber silk. Her hair was coiled elegantly and pinned high over her crown. A pearl dangled from a hair ornament fixed into one side of the arrangement. It was accompanied by smaller baubles fashioned in the shape of flowers.

Yan Ling stood, struggling for a suitable greeting. ‘Pearl isn’t here, my lady.’

This woman stepped forwards with a familiarity that had Yan Ling retreating behind the chair.

‘Well, good girl! She must have succeeded then. But who are you?’

‘I … I came here with Fei Long—I mean, Lord Chang.’

The lady titled her head in puzzlement, causing the pearl ornament to swing in an entrancing fashion, but then she appeared to accept without any further question. ‘I’m Min, Lord Chang’s concubine.’

Concubine? Fei Long hadn’t mentioned he had a concubine.

‘No, the elder Lord Chang,’ the woman corrected, smiling at her confusion.

Now that Lady Min had come into the light, Yan Ling could see she was actually plain in appearance, but a youthful energy radiated from her. Her beauty was expressed in the carefree exuberance of her movements rather than her features.

‘Maybe you can help me,’ Lady Min began cheerfully. ‘I had the most wonderful revelation while paying my respects at the temple to the elder Lord Chang.’ She pulled out a bundle of cloth hidden in the billowing folds of her sleeve. ‘I was coming to see if Pearl wanted to come with me, but she’s away with her true love, so all the better.’

Lady Min set the bundle down on the low table and straightened regally. She raised her hands to smooth out her hair. It occurred to Yan Ling that she should be studying and copying her movements, but Min flitted about like a dragonfly on gossamer wings, impossible to envision in stillness.

The lady began to pull the pins from her hair and handed them over to Yan Ling one by one. ‘I don’t know why it took me so long to think of it, really. And then today in front of the temple altar, with all that smoky incense everywhere, it just came to me.’

She shook her hair loose and Yan Ling couldn’t help but be a bit envious. The thick mane flowed down to her waist. Min reached down to unroll the cloth bundle, revealing a pair of scissors among other implements.

‘What is your name?’ the lady asked.

‘Yan Ling, my lady.’

‘Help me with this here, Yan Ling. I can’t see the back very well even in my mirror.’ The lady pressed the scissors into her hands and turned around, running her hands once more over her hair.

The scissors lay like a leaden weight against her palm. Yan Ling was feeling a bit ambushed. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much experience cutting hair. What if I ruin it?’

‘Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all coming off.’ Lady Min was uncustomarily excited about the prospect.

Yan Ling swallowed. ‘All?’

‘Yes. We’ll use the scissors first and then the razor. I’m going to join the nuns at the Temple of the Peaceful Lotus.’

The lady turned around, waiting expectantly. What else was she to do? Yan Ling raised the scissors and opened them around a lock of lustrous black hair. She closed her eyes and made the first snip. The blades sheared through the lock with a definitive snick.

‘I’ve been very lucky,’ Lady Min said. ‘The last few years have been happy here. The elder Lord Chang was a kind man. No matter what they say, he had a joyfulness about him. Always in good humour. I laughed every day, you should know.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Yan Ling picked up another lock and cut it away, placing it beside the first one on top of the cloth. It seemed such a crime to sacrifice all that beautiful hair. ‘But I’m surprised. The younger Lord Chang is so serious all the time.’

She could also say humourless, stiff, didn’t know his way around a proper smile.

‘He gets that from his mother,’ Min replied. ‘Lady Chang was also a good woman. I was her attendant, you know.’ Her tone became wistful. ‘She was practical and ran the household admirably.’

‘Lady Chang is gone as well then?’ More locks fell away. Yan Ling was getting bolder with the scissors as well as her questions.

‘Several years ago. Right before her son passed his military exams. I don’t think the elder Lord Chang ever forgot her. All the carousing, drinking, extravagance—’ she had to take a breath before continuing ‘—dice and women aside.’

Yan Ling frowned at the description. ‘Wasn’t Lord Chang a government official?’

‘Lord Chang was a department head in the Ministry of Works. And well loved, too. Everywhere he went, men would call out his name, wanting to be the first to greet him. His death was such a shame.’ Lady Min’s voice grew distant. ‘He slipped coming home late one night along the canal. Hit his head and drowned, the city guards said. Poor man … Are you nearly finished? My head feels so much lighter.’

It was one thing to die at a venerable old age, but to go so unexpectedly. Her heart went out to Fei Long and his family. ‘I think it’s done.’

Only jagged tufts remained where there had been a beautiful head of hair only minutes earlier, but Lady Min wasn’t yet satisfied. The lady picked up a porcelain jar and poured some oil from it into her hand. Then she ran her palms over her head, massaging the ointment in circles. She handed Yan Ling the razor and sat down in one of the chairs.

By that time, Yan Ling had accepted the strangeness of the situation. With great care, she scraped the blade gently along Lady Min’s scalp. The blade was sharp and the hair fell away easily.

‘If you’ll forgive me for asking, you sound content with your life here. Why leave?’ Yan Ling asked.

‘It seems the right thing to do to repay the elder lord’s kindness. I’d be nothing but a burden here. And it’s not such a sacrifice. The temple gardens are tranquil. The nuns spend their day in prayer. A simple life.’

Over the next half-hour, Yan Ling finished shaving the rest of the lady’s head. She found a mirror within Pearl’s dresser in the private area of the room and brought it out.

‘Waa … Look at me!’ Min turned her head this way and that as she peered at her reflection in the polished bronze. She rubbed her hand over the newly smooth surface with an expression of amused curiosity. ‘I look like a newborn baby.’

‘When will you go to the temple?’

‘Tomorrow.’ She grinned. ‘I’m already prepared.’

Min began gathering up the locks of hair and the other supplies. ‘I better return these to Old Man Liang before he realises they’re missing.’ She paused as she picked up the jewelled hairpins. ‘Well, I don’t have any use for these any more.’

They laughed together. With the laughter, some of the apprehension Yan Ling had harboured throughout the journey uncoiled within her. She grew pleasantly warm in their small intimate circle. Yet at the same time, she was stricken with a pang of sadness. She would be alone in a house of strangers once more when the lady left.

‘You should take them.’ Min held the pins out to her. ‘And thank you.’

Without warning, the lady swept her up in an embrace. Yan Ling returned it with not as much grace as she would have liked, but Lady Min didn’t seem to notice. When they moved apart, the lady ceremoniously placed the hairpins across Yan Ling’s palm.

‘Fei Long must not be so different from his father after all, bringing you here. He’s not completely blind to a young and pretty woman.’

‘Oh, no.’ Yan Ling’s face grew hot and she shook her head vehemently. ‘That’s not why I’m here at all.’

She quickly explained her role in replacing Pearl as the alliance bride, though there was no way to escape the questionable nature of their journey, alone together when they were neither family nor husband and wife, sleeping in the same chamber. Yan Ling flushed with embarrassment. Maybe this was why Fei Long needed someone with no reputation to lose. If she had any sort of family name to call her own, it would be ruined already.

‘Well.’ Min blew out a breath after the explanation was done. ‘As I said, not so different from his father as I thought.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Fei Long wasn’t always so morose. There’s still some life in him.’ Min embraced her again. ‘Just remember. The elder Lord Chang was a good man. No matter what you may hear.’

The lady stole away in a swirl of silk. After a moment, Yan Ling sank onto the chair, wondering what had just happened. And why, when Min had been so overwhelmingly cheerful, did her parting words sound like a dire warning?

Chapter Four

Yan Ling had never heard Fei Long shout during their journey together. He rarely raised his voice above the stern and steady tone that she’d come to know so well. That morning, she learned that he could shake the rooftops if he chose to.

The yelling brought her out of her room and sent her running into the central courtyard. Maybe there was a fire. Surely someone was dying.

Dao nearly collided with her on the pebbled walkway. ‘Lady Min,’ Dao pronounced, looking to the front of the house. ‘She’s done something crazy again.’

The pieces fell into place quickly between the male and female voices raised in argument followed by the sight of Min running through the courtyard, sobbing loudly. Her bare head gleamed in the morning sun while her opulent robe fluttered behind her. Dao stared after the lady with eyes wide and mouth open as Min disappeared into the back of the house.

‘What is this place?’ Fei Long was shouting. ‘This isn’t my home. This is a den of wild animals.’

‘Will he calm down if we just wait?’ Yan Ling looked to Dao, whose only answer was to shake her head helplessly.

‘Bald as a Shaolin monk,’ he ranted. ‘I must already be dead. This must already be the afterlife because no one alive could be so stupid.’

Several servants from the kitchen and surrounding chambers peeked into the courtyard, only to duck away when Fei Long continued his tirade. Min’s sobbing had receded into the house, but it grew louder once again. She came back into the first courtyard with eyes swollen red and a travel pack slung over her shoulder.

‘On my mother,’ Dao swore under her breath. ‘The scandal.’

‘Stop her before she leaves the house,’ Yan Ling directed, her pulse skipping. ‘I’ll go speak to Lord Chang.’ Maybe it wasn’t her place to be giving orders, but she felt responsible for helping Lady Min.

The servant girl ran in one direction while Yan Ling hurried in the other. She slipped into the front part of the house and wove her way through the hallway. It wasn’t hard to find Fei Long. He had taken to swearing a river of oaths behind a closed door.

‘My lord.’ The door loomed before her. She pressed a hand to her stomach to try to calm it. ‘Are you all right?’

The stomping inside ceased. ‘Miss Yan Ling, this is a private matter. Please return to your room.’ His voice sounded muffled through the barrier.

Private? Not any more when every porter on the street could likely hear him.

‘Maybe I can be of help,’ she began.

The door swung open slowly and Fei Long appeared. There was a slight flush to his cheeks and his eyes glinted with a dangerous light. ‘There is nothing for you to concern yourself with here.’

She could hear the strain at the edge of his voice as he resorted to extreme politeness.

‘Pardon us, miss, for disrupting your morning,’ he continued.

His chest rose and fell rapidly and the muscles of his face pulled tight as he fought for control. Maybe she could help. She was an outsider and he wouldn’t dare yell at her … as loudly, at least.

‘Everyone in the house is frightened. Lady Min is crying.’

The mention of the lady’s name had Fei Long gritting his teeth. ‘She’s lost her mind.’

What would calm him? She tried to think of what little she knew of him and she could only think of one thing.

‘Let me have some tea brought to you.’

Yes, tea. He did all his planning with her over tea. And he had come to the teahouse to ponder over his troubles when she’d first met him. He regarded her woodenly, perhaps thinking that she, too, had lost her mind. But slowly, as if with great difficulty, he nodded once.

A small victory.

They were seated with the tea tray arranged before them in his father’s study. It was his study now, as was everything that had once belonged to his father: this mansion, the servants, all the troubles he’d stirred up like rats let loose in a storehouse.

Like rats, the problems gnawed away at what remained bit by bit. Like rats, they multiplied.

Yan Ling scooped the tea leaves into the special enamel cups. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the pot of steaming water. That small break brought him back to himself. These problems weren’t meant for her or the other servants. He was wrong to involve all of them.

‘I apologise for my anger,’ he said.

He had been completely stricken senseless by the sight of his father’s young concubine shaved bald. Even the thought of such foolishness made his pulse rise once more.

Steam rose from the cups and Yan Ling gently placed the lids over them to let the leaves steep. She sat back with her hands in her lap.

Her fingers twined together. ‘Lady Min came to me last night—’

‘We should speak of other things,’ he interrupted.

‘I think her intentions were well meaning.’

He let out a slow breath. She wasn’t going to spare him this shame. ‘How is bringing scandal upon this house well meaning?’ he asked. ‘Lady Min has no reason to complain. She was once a servant in our household before my father made her his concubine.’

Fei Long’s own father had always let his passionate nature get the best of him. Shame soured his stomach once again. It was impossible to hide such personal family matters from Yan Ling while she lived here among them.

‘She isn’t complaining. Lady Min praised your father as a generous and joyful man.’

‘Do you know how this looks? First my sister, Pearl, runs away, then Lady Min shaves her head to become a nun to escape. There is no discipline in this house. No harmony.’

‘It is this woman’s humble opinion—’

He raised an eyebrow at that. It was one of the phrases he’d introduced during their daily lessons and now she was wielding it. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or irritated that she was putting it to practice to placate him.

‘—that the women of this household may have enjoyed a certain freedom under your father’s most generous care.’

He could see how she struggled with the words. How they lingered on her tongue, a bite too large to swallow easily.

‘The lady came to me yesterday and asked for my help,’ Yan Ling blurted out. She looked exhausted from speaking so delicately. ‘I think she didn’t want to be a burden, that was all.’

She was trying valiantly and his heart softened. ‘What do you suggest?’ he asked.

‘Being a nun can’t be the easiest life. Let the lady do as she’s chosen and the good energy from it may come back to you.’

‘Karma?’ he offered.

She looked relieved. ‘Yes. Karma.’

He leaned back, considering her argument. The difficult matter wasn’t that his father’s concubine now wished to become a Buddhist nun or that Pearl had been so devastated by being sent to a foreign lord that she went against duty and honour to run away. What Yan Ling could never understand was that he was responsible for all of them. Min had been utterly devoted to his father, yet she had gone to a stranger first to try to solve her problems. And his sister had become desperate enough to run away after he’d disregarded her plea for help. He was a failure at holding this household together.

‘Will you abandon me as well?’ he asked tonelessly.

She frowned. ‘I don’t understand, my lord.’

His throat closed tight and he had to force out the words. ‘Our arrangement is an unusual one. I have no assurance you won’t decide one day that it’s no longer worth the sacrifice.’

If Yan Ling suddenly ran away like Pearl and Min, he’d be left with nothing. The family name would fall completely to ruin. Fei Long had also put his hopes on an outsider. The uncertainty left him vulnerable and darkened his spirit. The shadow of it had hovered over him during their journey and it clung to him now. This was the closest he’d ever come to admitting this fear to her.

‘Is our arrangement what you truly want, Yan Ling? We have at least been honest with one another. If you have any doubt, tell me now.’

‘I have no doubt, my lord.’

He didn’t believe her. Her voice hitched and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lip before biting into it.

‘Don’t do that,’ he reminded gently. She stopped this time.

‘I have no doubt about this,’ she repeated with more iron behind the words. ‘I’ll see this through to the end. I swear it.’

The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d been right about Yan Ling. She was a practical, logical woman. They were partners in this. Only she was audacious enough to carry out the ruse and she wouldn’t abandon him.

She fidgeted as his gaze lingered. ‘The tea is ready,’ she deflected. ‘Let us drink.’

They enjoyed their tea for a few peaceful moments. The stillness was welcome after all the drama that morning. A careful tap on the door interrupted the silence, but by then the throbbing in his skull had settled.

‘Old Man Liang. Come in.’

His father’s steward entered in a black robe and cap. He carried a thick ledger book, almost larger than he was, with a wooden abacus balanced on top. Liang had always been there at his father’s side, older than time. And he’d always looked the same: same thin nose, same tapered beard hanging down to his breastbone. The widening bands of grey in it seemed to be his only signs of ageing.

Liang paused at the sight of Yan Ling. Fei Long had already explained her role to all of the servants as well as the old steward. That had been accomplished in the morning before his confrontation with Lady Min. They also knew that discretion was most important.

‘Enquire today at the Temple of the Peaceful Lotus,’ he told Liang. ‘Tell the abbess that Lady Min wishes to join them and prepare a donation of alms to the temple.’

Across from him, Yan Ling straightened. Her eyes lit with surprise.

‘I’ll go tell Lady Min.’ She set her tea down and rose to her feet.

Excitement brought a vibrant glow to her cheeks and he refrained from admonishing her for ending the meeting without taking proper leave. At least she remembered to bow to Liang, before rushing out the door.

He still had much work to do with her.

Fei Long got up to move to the desk. He and the steward had planned to go over all of the accounts that morning, without the protective smoothing over of details that Liang had practised with his father. It was poor etiquette to give bad news plainly, but Fei Long needed to know the truth about the family finances.

Old Man Liang seated himself and took his time opening the record book and sliding the counters on his abacus back to starting position. The steward coughed once and cleared his throat.

‘My lord is most generous.’ He stroked his grey beard, a habit that Fei Long had come to recognise as a stalling gesture. ‘However, there may be a problem making a donation to the temple as well as a few of the other payments.’

It wasn’t until that afternoon that Fei Long was able to summon Yan Ling before him again. She was dressed in one of Pearl’s hanfu robes. The cloth hung loose as Yan Ling was thinner than his sister. The embroidered sash accented her slender waist and hips.

He stood in the parlour at the front of the house as she tried to negotiate the layers of yellow silk past the entranceway. This was supposed to be a reprieve from the dire financial figures Old Man Liang had thrown at him, but Fei Long almost wished himself back in front of the cursed ledger book as Yan Ling stepped on the edge of her own skirt. The cloth pooled around her feet as she tried to move forwards, wrapping about her ankles until he was certain she would topple. Fortunately she didn’t. She kicked at the train, much like—heaven help him—one would kick a stray dog. He raised a hand over his mouth.

‘Are you laughing at me?’ she demanded, looping the long sleeves once and then twice about her arms so they would no longer whip about while she moved.

‘No.’

He was most certainly grimacing behind the shield of his hand. He lowered it and held out his arm to catch her as she stumbled into the room.

‘This must be the sort of fancy garment only worn for big festivals,’ she surmised.

He ground his teeth together. ‘This is what Pearl wore nearly every day.’

She shot him a look of disbelief. ‘This is not a robe. This is three robes.’

He was not going to lower himself to untangle her from the net of silk she’d woven about herself.

‘Dao.’

The girl came running from her unseen location in the hallway. ‘My lord.’

He tossed a curt nod in Yan Ling’s direction. Dao rushed to her and worked to straighten out the hanfu, smoothing out the sleeves and rearranging the train. Yan Ling’s face grew red as she stood still for the ministrations.

‘Try walking forwards,’ he said.

She took a few tentative steps toward the opposite end of the room. At the wall, she bent to tug the skirt straight with what she thought was a surreptitious movement. It wasn’t.

‘Again,’ he commanded.

She turned and came back toward him. It was a little better this time in that she didn’t pause to fidget with the clothing, but in truth it wasn’t that much better.

‘I’ll practise,’ she said sharply, cutting off the comment that hovered on his tongue.

Dao looked on in sympathy, eyes lowered.

He ran a hand roughly over his chin. Something was wrong, but on his father’s grave, he couldn’t say what. Her arms were wooden by her sides. Her step was heavy. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. Why hadn’t he noticed anything when they’d travelled together? This was worse than he’d thought.

‘This will take more than practice,’ he replied.

She flinched as if he’d inflicted a physical wound, but he didn’t have time to be gentle with words. He didn’t know how to instruct her in how a lady should act and move. He looked to the servant girl Dao, but it was clear she wouldn’t be able to help either, and Lady Min had the mental focus of a moth.

Yan Ling had to combat a lifetime of subservience. It wasn’t her fault, he tried to tell himself as his head throbbed once again.

He was frustrated at her, but he was angrier with himself. It didn’t matter whose fault it was; he needed to fix this. Yan Ling pressed her lips tight and he could see her reading the displeasure in his face.

‘Let me keep trying,’ she insisted with a stubborn lift of her chin.

A small part of him warmed with admiration, but feminine grace was a virtue while perseverance was not.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Keep working.’

He dismissed Dao and accompanied Yan Ling as she walked the gardens from the first courtyard through to the second one. Occasionally she looked to him for approval and he’d oblige her with a nod, but he was no longer paying attention to her form. Instead, Fei Long was lost in thought. If Yan Ling was to become a princess, or at least pretend to be one, they would need to transform her. He needed someone who was a master at deception.

Chapter Five

‘Nothing I do is right.’

Yan Ling winced as Dao wound a thread to the hairs at the edge her eyebrow and yanked. She reclined on the day bed in her sitting room with Dao leaning over her. Lady Min had entered the temple earlier that week after a tearful farewell to the household, despite her eagerness to begin her new life. This freed Dao to focus on making a lady of Yan Ling, which she was doing one hair at a time.

‘Lord Chang is only trying to make sure you succeed,’ Dao replied.

‘I don’t stand properly, walk properly. Pearl must have been a model of femininity and—Ow!’

Dao pulled the thread away on the other side. The skin around her brows stung like the bite of a hundred ants.

The mansion was arranged around the two courtyards with the private chambers in the back part of the house and the parlours, kitchen and storeroom arranged at the front. Even with Lady Min and Pearl gone, there were still fifteen people living within the residence. There was the kitchen staff, the hands who tended the stable at the side of the residence, and the various attendants and porters who handled everyday tasks such as cleaning and running errands. Old Man Liang was the eldest and most revered.

Yan Ling wondered why Fei Long wasn’t married already. She would have thought a family such as this one would be eager to produce sons. It couldn’t be possible that anyone would find him unsuitable. Women likely found him handsome enough … not that one needed to be with wealth and education. And not that she necessarily found him so.

She swallowed past a sudden tightness in her throat, embarrassed to be thinking about someone so far above her class. Maybe she had spent too much time listening to Fei Long’s lectures. Even hidden thoughts had a proper place and standing now.

‘You’re very brave,’ Dao was saying. ‘Pearl was so frightened about going to Khitan. And all those people you’ll need to convince. I couldn’t do it.’

Her chest grew tighter as she thought of it. The Khitan court would be expecting a well-born lady. ‘I’m a carp trying to leap over the dragon’s gate,’ she muttered.

‘I’m surprised Lord Chang would think of such a thing.’ Dao ducked in close to inspect the arch of one brow. ‘He’s always been so proper and upstanding.’

‘This would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it?’

‘Quite!’ The servant lifted the thread again. ‘But I think it sounds wonderful. To become a princess. The poets write lovely verses about the heqin brides, about how beautiful and treasured they are.’

Yan Ling pouted. She was neither beautiful nor graceful. In the afternoons, she sat through lessons on etiquette and diplomacy with Fei Long, but she questioned whether any of it was any good. She still felt like the same awkward teahouse girl while she strolled from the front courtyard to the back, trying to flow and glide like a cloud. Or a crane. Or anything much more elegant than herself.

‘There.’ Dao made one more painful yank and then handed her the mirror. ‘See how it brightens up your face?’

Yan Ling stared at her newly shaped eyebrows sceptically. The ends narrowed in what was supposed to be the fashion of the day, according to Dao. ‘So that was all I needed. Now I’m a lady. I thank you greatly.’

‘Monkey.’ Dao snorted and gave her a shove.

One of the attendants from the front of the house came into the sitting room then to announce a visitor.

‘For me?’

The young man nodded. ‘Li Bai Shen, by the lord’s invitation.’

Fei Long had left that morning without telling her anything about a ‘Li Bai Shen’. Old Man Liang wasn’t present either. She didn’t know if she was ready to carry on the deception for an outsider. She glanced once more in the mirror. Her eyes did look different—somehow more intense and focused—but she didn’t feel it inside. She patted a hand over her hair. It had been pinned up on top and then allowed to fall loose in a cascade behind her.

The young attendant led her to the parlour at the front of the mansion. The gentleman was already seated on the couch. His robe was adorned with a brilliant border of maroon brocade and his topknot was affixed with a straight silver pin. He had narrow, handsome features, with dark eyebrows that accented his face in two bold lines.

He poured himself a cup of wine from a ewer that had been set before him and leaned back with his legs crossed at the ankles, taking in the sitting room décor with a bemused expression as if he were master of the house.

She stopped at the edge of the sitting area. ‘Lord Li.’

Self-consciously, she executed a bow, keeping her hands folded demurely within the drape of her sleeves.

He smiled when he saw her. Setting his wine down, he lifted himself to his feet and came towards her with a powerful, yet graceful stride. He was deceptively tall in stature, his build lean and wiry. He circled her, head tilted as if to get a better look. His grin widened to reveal the indent of a dimple against his cheek.

‘Not bad, Fei Long.’ His voice held a hum of approval.

‘My lord?’

He reached to tuck two fingers beneath her chin and she swatted at his hand. He chuckled.

‘Who are you anyway?’ she demanded.

He straightened and pulled back his shoulders dramatically. ‘My good friend has asked for help. Li Bai Shen is here to honour that bond of friendship.’

He spoke his name with authority as if anyone would know it. She wrinkled her nose at him.

He tapped his chest twice. ‘Bai Shen is one of the premier actors of the Nine Dragon theatre troupe and that, dear miss, is not a pretty face you’re making. I can see why Fei Long needs my help.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You have two months to become a well-born, well-mannered lady, correct?’

‘Yes.’

Bai Shen made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘I am here to ensure your success.’

‘You?’

‘No other. I played the Princess Pingyang at the Spring Festival before the Emperor himself.’

This was who Fei Long had enlisted to teach her how to be a woman? She knew that men played all of the female roles at the opera, but Bai Shen didn’t seem at all womanly.

‘This is a joke,’ she scoffed.

‘Have you ever known Chang Fei Long to joke?’

She couldn’t argue with that.

Bai Shen leaned in close, a fellow conspirator. ‘To be truthful, it is quite complicated being a woman.’

‘It is!’ she agreed wholeheartedly.

‘There are a thousand looks. A hundred gestures. I’ve studied them all.’ He circled his hand with a flourish. ‘The secret is to create the illusion. You don’t need it all. Emphasise certain characteristics and the audience will believe.’

He touched his fingers to his cheek in an affected feminine gesture, and she laughed aloud, irresistibly charmed. Bai Shen regarded her with warm approval. He certainly enjoyed having a receptive audience.

‘And don’t forget you have one grand advantage,’ he said.

‘What is that?’

He shrugged. ‘You actually are a woman.’

Minister Cao Wei’s offices were among the most ostentatious in the Administrative City. The government bureaucracy was a city unto itself that had grown around the bones of the former imperial palace. Each ministry was housed in a great assembly hall and surrounded by a constellation of bureaus, offices and courts. Located in the northernmost sector nearest to the palace, the Ministry of Personnel was one of the most influential branches within the imperial government. Fei Long and Old Man Liang were met at the door by a retainer who ushered them into the minister’s meeting room.

The chamber was lavishly furnished. A round table stood at the centre of the room upon a woven rug. An ivory carving depicting the dragon-boat races spanned an entire wall. The minister entered through a beaded curtain. He wore the ceremonial headdress of state and his robe was forest green in colour and embroidered with a phoenix pattern at the front. It billowed around an expanding middle. Minister Cao had grown wider since Fei Long had seen him last.

‘Fei Long, welcome!’

Another man also wearing the robe and cap of state entered behind the minister. Fei Long didn’t recognise him, but Old Liang murmured a warning to him as they bowed to the two officials.

Careful.

‘Inspector Tong and I must both offer our deepest condolences for your father.’

‘Thank you, Minister Cao. Inspector Tong.’ Fei Long bowed again, acknowledging both of them in turn. He took a quick assessment of the second official as he lowered his head.

Tong was younger than Cao. His beard was trimmed to a sharp point and his eyes remained fixed on Fei Long as if targeting a pigeon during a hunt. Fei Long didn’t recognise the insignia on his robe, but it was clear he held some authority even in the presence of a senior minister.

Cao gestured toward the round table in welcome. ‘The last time I drank with your father, we enjoyed a flask of Guilin spirits together. Shall we have some in his honour?’

‘Just tea is fine, my lord.’

Cao looked somewhat glum at his response, but Tong snorted. ‘Not quite his father’s son, then.’

The senior minister called for tea and the three of them sat, while Liang remained standing off to the side.

‘I was just telling Minister Tong what a tragedy it is to lose Chang like that.’

‘Who else would tell outrageous stories during all those serious meetings? One might mistakenly think there was work to be done if it weren’t for Minister Chang,’ Tong replied with an acid tongue.

Cao laughed heartily, either ignoring the slight or missing it completely. ‘Yes! There really was no one else like Old Chang.’

The tea was poured while Cao continued to recount favourable stories of his father. For each one, Tong managed to add the slightest of cuts. Fei Long’s grip tightened on his cup. It was ill-mannered to malign the deceased, but it was also ill-mannered to show his anger before his host.

Cao Wei served in the highest government circles where his father had held a much more humble assignment within the Ministry of Works in the department of agriculture. Still, it was a position to be proud of and highly coveted. Cao seemed to have taken a liking to his father when he was still a student and had helped him secure the head position after the civil exams. The minister had become a benefactor to their family through the years.

Though Fei Long trusted Minister Cao, he was certain it was no accident that Tong happened to also be at this meeting. They were nearly through the first pour when Cao focused in on more serious matters.

‘I was thinking about how your father’s position within the Ministry of Works is still open. You were a candidate for the civil exams at one time, if I recall. I can put in a good word for you, my son.’

Tong’s face twitched at the suggestion, but he covered it by taking a sip of his tea.

‘The minister is too generous,’ Fei Long replied. ‘I’m afraid this unworthy servant is not qualified.’

‘Nonsense.’ Tong set down his cup and the lid rattled from the impact. ‘Your father’s name is enough. What need is there for qualification?’

Cao erupted again in laughter. ‘Inspector Tong, you are always playing like that. Young Fei Long is more than qualified. Why, he passed the military exams with excellent marks. You should see him with a bow and arrow. I’m sure we can get a dispensation on the civil exams.’

The thought of serving in the administrative court made Fei Long’s chest constrict. He didn’t have the wile or charm for it. If he dared to accept, he’d be exposed as a fraud.

‘Minister Cao, I must confess I have no talent for politics. It pains me to refuse such generosity, but my duty is with the imperial army.’

‘Worthy! Very worthy. See?’ Cao rapped his knuckles against the table. ‘I told you the son was a man of honour, serving the empire so dutifully.’

‘So he is,’ Tong said, his tone flat.

Cao poured the next round of tea himself, a great courtesy coming from the senior official. From that gesture alone, Fei Long knew there was another reason he’d been invited.

‘How is your sister, Pearl?’ Cao asked.

Fei Long kept his expression neutral. ‘She is saddened by our father’s passing, but otherwise she is well.’

Tong stared back at him, his face a stone wall as he scoured Fei Long for any sign of weakness.

Cao nodded gravely. ‘Only two months until the journey to Khitan. A tragedy that Old Chang couldn’t see his daughter wed.’

The senior minister bowed his head and Tong followed his example, but it was only a cursory gesture. Inspector Tong was working deliberately to get Fei Long’s guard up. It was the sort of subtle power struggle that Fei Long had learned early on he had no knack for and one of the reasons he’d opted for the provincial garrison rather than the politics of Changan. His work in the imperial army was honest and straightforward, even if it was without glory.

‘I apologise, Inspector Tong. I have been long away from the capital. I’m ignorant of how you knew my father?’

‘The apology is mine. I should have introduced myself properly.’ All the words that came from him were cold and correct. ‘I serve in the Censorate.’

Tong let the silence take over so there could be no mistaking the seriousness of his purpose there. Fei Long should have guessed from the title that the dour-faced Tong was an imperial censor. These officials were responsible for investigating the inner workings of each of the government ministries.

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