Praise for Jeannie Lin:

THE DRAGON AND THE PEARL ‘Beautifully written, deliciously sensual, and rich with Tang Dynasty historical and political detail, this exquisitely crafted, danger-filled, and intriguing story redeems the ruthless villain from Lin’s Butterfly Swords (a remarkable feat in itself), pairs him with a smart, resourceful heroine, and lets them play cat and mouse for much of the book before joining forces for a well-deserved romantic ending. Exceptional.’ —Library Journal

BUTTERFLY SWORDS ‘Exciting debut … especially vibrant writing …’ —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

She wouldn’t cower before him.

The rulers of the empire devoured the weak. She waited until he came forward to pull the curtain aside with a sweep of his arm. The tiniest of concessions.

‘Tell me, Governor.’ She ran a fingertip across her own cheek. ‘How did you get that scar?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘A woman,’ he said after a pause.

Her lips teased into a smile. ‘Fascinating.’

His hand tightened on the curtain, the material clenched between his fingers. At once his pupils darkened, his breathing grew deep. The signs were there and she could read them like lines of poetry. How else was a woman to protect herself in the world of men? Li Tao, for all of his supposed cunning, was just another man.

‘You do not disappoint,’ he said in a low voice.

He dropped into the familiar form of address. The spark in his eyes showed the first hint of any heat beneath the cold exterior.

For a dark moment she was caught in the call of his gaze. They were close, nearly touching. She had provoked him on purpose, but regretted it as an alarming awareness unfurled itself within her, prickling just beneath her skin. The regiment of soldiers surrounding them faded. There was only one man here she had any fear of.

‘And here I had thought the game was over for me,’ she murmured.

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

A previous novel from the author:

BUTTERFLY SWORDS

THE DRAGON AND THE PEARL

features characters you will have already met

in BUTTERFLY SWORDS

Available in Mills & Boon Historical Undone! ebooks:

THE TAMING OF MEI LIN

THE LADY’S SCANDALOUS NIGHT

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

The Dragon and the Pearl

Jeannie Lin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Acknowledgements:

In the process of writing, this story both evolved and changed, yet it always stayed true to its original heart and spirit and emerged an even stronger tale than the one I envisioned. I have to thank my talented and dedicated editor, Anna Boatman, for her guidance. Thank you to my agent, Gail Fortune, for always being a protective lioness. Also a special acknowledgement to three talented writers: Bria Quinlan, Inez Kelley and my sister Nam, for always being there with a keen eye or a sympathetic ear—whichever was needed at the time.

AUTHOR NOTE

In BUTTERFLY SWORDS my hero and heroine spent the first part of the story wondering about the warlord Li Tao—a man they would eventually have to confront. In truth, I spent half of that book wondering about him myself. What kind of villain would he be? Would he be self-serving and power-hungry?

By the time Li Tao finally did stride onto the page he emerged as someone completely unexpected. I knew before BUTTERFLY SWORDS was finished that I would have to write another story featuring this cold-hearted and calculating warrior, if only to answer for myself how a man who has set himself up against an empire, and has done so without apology, could ever find redemption. More importantly, what woman would be his match in love and war?

The later eighth century was a time of political upheaval in China. Military governors called jiedushi grew in power enough to challenge the imperial throne. THE DRAGON AND THE PEARL allowed me to imagine and explore the underworld of spies and assassins as well as the art of war in the fall of the Golden Age. The characters are not based on any specific persons from history—rather they’re drawn from the spirit of the many colourful and larger-than-life figures of the Tang Dynasty. I hope you enjoy the journey and find the setting and characters as addictive as I have.

Chapter One

Tang Dynasty, China—ad 759

Lady Ling Suyin waited in the parlour at the edge of the Snake hour, her house rendered silent except for the buzz of dragonflies outside. The tea before her had long gone cold. The last servant had brought it that morning before fleeing.

The boldest of them had begged her to join them, but the warlord who was coming for her would burn every village along the river to find her. She wouldn’t add to her growing collection of debt. Another stone on the scale.

She straightened at the crunch of boots over leaves at the front of the house. They were steady and deliberate. Her heart pounded harder with each impending step. He’d come alone. Her breath caught as the imposing figure appeared in the doorway, every bit the demon they spoke of in the imperial court. Black robe, dark hair cut short, an impassive expression that revealed nothing to her. That meant she had nothing over him.

‘Ling Guifei.‘ His voice rang deep as he greeted her by title.

‘I am no one’s Precious Consort any longer, Governor Li.’

Suyin remained seated and let the military governor approach. If she stood, her legs might fail her. The prominence of his features added to her fear. This was a face that could never be overlooked. All sun-darkened skin and sharp angles. A scar cut below his left eye, ruining his stark symmetry. That was new.

The first and only time she had seen Li Tao, he’d stood before the imperial court as a young man being commended for his valour. The restless energy that once had radiated from him was constrained behind a wall of discipline. Time had honed him to razor sharpness. Time had not left her untouched either.

‘This humble servant is here to offer himself as the lady’s escort.’

All the civility in the world could not take the edge off him.

Her stomach fluttered in warning, but she breathed through it. She propped an elbow on to the table and made her tone as light as possible. All the while, her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear her words.

‘A thousand apologies, my lord, but I have no plans for travel.’

‘This place is no longer safe for you.’

As if she could be safe with him. There was nowhere safe for her any longer, no allies left to protect her. Would the late Emperor’s enforcer come for her after so many years? She had thought her secrets long buried.

Suyin dug her nails into the edge of the table as he stepped closer. She had been left alone to fend for herself before, but she had been young and defenceless. An accomplished courtesan should be able to command her fear. She should be able to command the man in front of her.

Li Tao halted two strides from her and she spied the silhouette of a weapon inside the drape of his sleeve. An assassin’s blade. She lifted the cup and took a sip to cover her shock. Cold, bitter tea slid over her tongue. Experience allowed her to keep from trembling, but she had no control over the way her heart raced or how her palms grew damp as he loomed over her.

She managed to keep her hand steady as she set the cup down. Her next words came out in the melodic, careless tone she had perfected. ‘Since my lord has come so far for this task, we should not waste any more time. Shall I gather my belongings?’

‘There is nothing the lady needs.’

The warlord addressed her as if she were his superior. It wasn’t much, but there had to be some way to use it. She caught the trailing edge of her shawl and draped it over her shoulders. She stood straight and paused before gliding past him.

He made no move toward her, but he was watching. All men did.

She stepped through the empty house, listening to his purposeful stride on the floorboards behind her. He was too close. By the time she emerged outside, her fingers were numb from being clenched so tight.

A palanquin awaited her by the side of the single dusty road leading from her manor. A regiment of soldiers outfitted in black and red assembled around the litter. The military governors, the jiedushi, commanded their own regional forces independent of the Emperor’s army. No one challenged them within their own domains, but this stretch of the forest was clearly under imperial jurisdiction. This was an affront the Emperor would not overlook.

Li Tao followed her like a gathering storm to the sedan and the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed her. If she ran, it would only remind him that he was a hunter, a warrior, a killer. As it was, some part of him thought he was a gentleman.

‘Where are we going?’

‘South.’

That was all he’d grant her. With a heaviness in her chest, she looked back. The August Emperor had built this home for her before his death. The manor itself meant nothing to her. Her gaze drifted to the river beyond, a rolling canvas on which the sunlight danced. She breathed deep to take in the scent of the river, of the surrounding moss and earth. This was what she would miss.

It had been too much to wish that she could be hidden away and forgotten. Perhaps she had always known someone would come for her. Debts had to be repaid in this life or the next.

She stopped before the palanquin and turned to find herself face to face with the most ruthless of the jiedushi. He was a tower of lean strength and corded muscle up close. And he was still assessing her with that penetrating gaze.

She wouldn’t cower before him. The rulers of the empire devoured the weak. She waited until he came forwards to pull the curtain aside with a sweep of his arm. The tiniest of concessions.

‘Tell me, Governor …’ she ran a fingertip across her own cheek ‘… how did you get that scar?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘A woman,’ he said after a pause.

Her lips teased into a smile. ‘Fascinating.’

His hand tightened on the curtain, the material clenched between his fingers. At once his pupils darkened, his breathing grew deep. The signs were there and she could read them like lines of poetry. How else was a woman to protect herself in the world of men? Li Tao, for all of his supposed cunning, was just another man.

‘You do not disappoint,’ he said in a low voice.

He dropped into the familiar form of address. The spark in his eyes showed the first hint of any heat beneath the cold exterior.

For a dark moment, she was caught in the call of his gaze. They were close, nearly touching. She had provoked him on purpose, but regretted it as an alarming awareness unfurled itself within her, prickling just beneath her skin. The regiment of soldiers surrounding them faded. There was only one man here she had any fear of.

‘And here I had thought the game was over for me,’ she murmured.

He didn’t respond. Her shoulder brushed against his sleeve as she slipped inside the wooden transport. His black eyes remained on her as the curtain fell back across the opening.

The journey came to Suyin in fragments snatched through the window. She caught glimpses of thick vines growing over the trees, the reflection of sunlight off distant water. Li Tao rode at the front and his soldiers kept her surrounded at every moment. This must be Li Tao’s infamous first battalion. They called themselves the Rising Guard and held the reputation of being the fiercest warriors in the empire.

The dense shade and the babble of her river gave way to a dirt road grooved with wheel tracks. They were going south, further away from the seat of imperial power. She no longer had a place in the new Emperor’s court, but she clung to the illusion that the centre of the empire was a safe and civilised place. What lay beyond was lawless and unpredictable. That was why they had needed the jiedushi.

On the fourth day, they passed an armed barricade. Grim-faced soldiers patrolled the line and she ducked away from the window.

It was true. The regional armies were assembling. She had isolated herself from the capital city of Changan to escape from the unrest, but news had still drifted to her over the last year through her servants. They made weekly trips to the city markets while she remained shut away in her manor.

There was only one reason for a barricade in the interior of the empire. There was infighting among the military governors. They had been gaining in power for years and continued to seize control in the uncertainty of Emperor Shen’s rule. Perhaps she should have gone into hiding with the servants after all.

With a shudder, she pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. She was dressed in the same clothes she had worn when they had come for her, the only possessions Li Tao had allowed her to bring.

She hated this part. The going away. The earth element in her longed to remain grounded in one place. Travel never held good tidings. Abrupt change brought back memories of being uprooted and taken some place far and unknown. It always seemed to come to that, and she knew from experience there was never a way to return.

The survival instinct returned to her, encasing her like a second skin. She sharpened her senses and became aware of everything around her. Li Tao prepared for war with swords and soldiers. She had her own weapons.

Over the next days, the open road faded beneath the shadow of a mountain and the soil became dark and rich. They travelled into a verdant forest of bamboo. The stalks rose high overhead. They called it the bamboo sea, not for any vast stretch of water, but for the rhythmic sway of the bamboo and the rustle of the spear-tipped leaves in the breeze. The green canopy engulfed them on all sides. When she blinked away from the window, a red haze remained over her eyes, veiling the world in an unnatural glow.

Suyin peered out of the window of the sedan to search for Li Tao. He rode tall in the saddle with his back straight. His dark robe stood out against the forest green. Naturally, he became her main focal point. He had all the power and she had none.

He’d barely spoken to her except for the scant conversation they’d exchanged by the river. Why would he go beyond his barricades to take her captive? Her influence had died with the August Emperor. She was merely a relic now, faded and wrung free of any usefulness.

The caravan came to an abrupt stop and the curtain was swept aside. Once again, Li Tao stood before her. He extended his hand and she had no choice but to take it, pressing her fingers briefly over his before letting go. The fleeting warmth of the touch lingered on her skin and a disturbing awareness curled around her as she stood beside him. She knew how to identify influence and power, but had never been so recklessly drawn to it.

She redirected her attention to the mansion nestled among the towering bamboo. It was twice the size of her home and built in the same opulent style of imperial architecture. The silhouette invoked the elaborate pagodas of the palace with wooden beams and tiled rooftops. Its grand structure intruded upon the tranquil forest.

‘Why am I here?’

‘As I said, it was not safe for you by the river.’

Her head tilted to him in challenge. ‘So the governor has appointed himself as my protector?’

His only reply was a wry twist of his lips before he gestured toward the front of the mansion. The man hoarded his words like gold coins. Every action was so controlled, she wondered if he ever lost himself in anger or passion. The last thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Li Tao remained behind her as they moved past the twin-lion statues that guarded the entrance. With every step, she became more aware of his dominance. His stride was confident and his authority complete. The illusion of deference he presented by allowing her to lead the way was laughable. How long would it be before he made his true demands known?

Household servants filed into the entrance hall one after another. Only seven of them, a small number for such a spacious compound. A grey-haired, round-faced woman headed the assembly. She gasped when Li Tao made the introduction.

‘Ling Guifei!’ The old woman bowed and bowed. The narrow bones of her shoulders protruded through the brown servant’s robe.

‘Jinmei, show Lady Ling to her apartments.’ Li Tao cast a dismissive glance in Suyin’s direction before turning to leave.

Insufferable. She flushed hot with anger as he disappeared down a corridor. He had treated her with the same indifference throughout the journey. She had been taken from her home under force of arms, yet he cast her aside as if she was of no importance at all. It was—it was worse than being interrogated and threatened. At least then she’d know what his plans were.

The head woman touched her arm gently. ‘Come with Auntie Jinmei.’

The guards marched behind them as she led Suyin through the spacious hall.

‘Guifei is more beautiful than they say,’ Auntie cooed, using the revered title the August Emperor had bestowed upon Suyin. ‘We are honoured and overjoyed for this visit.’

A pleasant visit indeed. Escorted by fifty armed men.

Auntie padded along in her slippers and led Suyin past the parlour to the interior rooms. The chambers stood silent and spacious with furnishings laid out in neat angles. Everything was meticulously dusted and nondescript, as unrevealing as the master of the house.

She followed Auntie outdoors through a central courtyard with a carefully arranged garden. The gardener brushed his wiry fingers over a hedge before cutting with his shears. His eyes neither focused on his hands or the sharp blades in front of him as he worked. When he addressed the lanky youth by the fish pond, his gaze remained vacant, stopping just short of fixing on his target.

The youth caught her eye as she passed. He looked to be sixteen, grasping at the edge of manhood. A clump of damp grass hung dripping from one hand while he watched her. His left arm hung rigidly against his side, the fingers of his hand withered and gnarled like a pigeon’s claw. She tore her gaze away with sudden embarrassment.

Auntie beckoned her along. ‘Master Li would want Ling Guifei to have the most luxurious of accommodations. We hope the lady will be pleased.’

The image of the blind gardener and his crippled assistant lingered. In the palace, even the lowliest of servants were chosen for physical beauty to perpetuate the illusion of perfection.

In the eastern section of the house, Auntie led Suyin up a staircase. Her assigned guard stayed outside the double doors as they entered the apartments.

‘Good light. Positive energy from all directions.’ Auntie walked in first, opening door after door. ‘In the mornings Ling Guifei can watch the sun rise over the cliffs.’

The woman reminded her of the elder servants who had served in the palace for so long they nearly held rank. Their speech and manner might be subservient, but they possessed all the cunning in the world after the secrets their eyes had seen. In the palace, Suyin had learned never to underestimate the servants. She had formed alliances wherever she could.

Auntie took her through the sheer curtain on to the balcony. From there she could see the ridge of the grey cliffs in the distance. The clean, crisp air of the forest surrounded them. Gripping the wooden rail, Suyin peered at the yard below.

Li Tao had imprisoned her on the second floor. A vast gorge opened up beyond the edge of the stone tiles. The granite walls plunged sharply to disappear into oblivion. Even if she were brave enough to make the climb from the balcony, there was nowhere to run.

She had been through all of the possibilities. The warlord could be holding her hostage, which was unlikely as she no longer had any allies in the empire. His capture of her could be purely an act of defiance against imperial authority. More likely he thought she held some vital secret. There had been a time when she had had many secrets at her fingertips.

Suyin called out as Auntie started to sink behind the curtain, ‘How long have you served the Governor?’

‘Fifteen years, my lady.’

From the beginning, then. Suyin leaned once more over the rail and breathed deep, catching the scent of moss and dampened earth.

From the very first time anyone had ever heard of a man named Li Tao.

Chapter Two

Li Tao loosened the leather strap that secured the sheath against his arm. He was alone in his study, shut away from his soldiers, the servants, and from her. The illustrious Ling Suyin was deep within his stronghold and far from the grasp of his enemies. Now he had time and space to think. To consider.

He drew the thin blade concealed beneath his sleeve and set it across the desk amongst the folded letters. A pile of grey ash lay beside the candle, the remains of the note that had sent him beyond the barricade on a whim. The message had been unsigned and the language obscured. Deliberately so, no doubt, in order to make it impossible to gauge its significance. The report informed him that the military governor, Gao Shiming, had sent men to capture Ling Suyin, or Ling Guifei as she had been titled by the late August Emperor.

The former Precious Consort. A woman who should have meant nothing in the schemes of courts and men now that her benefactor was dead. She had been installed at an isolated river bend to live out the rest of her days in exile. What would Gao want with such a woman?

His instincts told him it was a ploy, but for once Li Tao ignored them. The cryptic message had held a warning, but also something else. Almost a promise. It insinuated he’d regret it if he didn’t act quickly. The Precious Consort’s name stood out among the characters. Ling Suyin.

At the height of her fame, gossip had streamed from the imperial city of Changan about her. She was a seductress, a fox spirit, the most beautiful woman in the empire. In the prosperity of the old regime, poets and courtiers could fixate on a single woman and make her into a goddess.

Li Tao had caught a single glimpse of her the first time he had been to the palace. The hunger that had gripped him had been immediate and all-consuming. He had been a young man then and had hungered for many things: acclaim, respect and power. The sight of her now, more than a decade later, stirred nothing but a faint echo of that forgotten desire.

At first, he had assumed the old wolf must have been obsessed with Lady Ling after seeing her on the Emperor’s arm for so many years. Perhaps Gao wanted the unattainable beauty and glory she represented. But Li Tao had intercepted assassins stalking toward the river bend. Shadow men sent to kill swiftly.

The assassins had died before they could be interrogated. The last of them had fallen on to his own blade to avoid being taken alive. It required money and influence to hire men with that level of dedication. Lady Ling apparently still held some value. A rival warlord wanted her dead, someone else wanted her alive, and he had been lured into the centre of it.

He sat down behind the desk and pinched the space between his eyes, trying to ease the gathering tension. A pile of papers lay stacked before him. A summons demanding his presence in the court at Changan lay on top. Below that, more proclamations stamped with imperial seals.

Over the past years, the imperial forces had diminished while the border armies under control of the jiedushi had grown stronger. The imbalance frightened the ministers in the court enough to try to limit the power of the military governors. As if crippling a strong limb would mask the weak one.

Li Tao ignored the decrees and edicts. His duty was to protect this domain, as the late Emperor had decreed. He’d do it even if it meant defying Emperor Shen and his meddling court. He had kept the borders secure and maintained peace within his district, putting down potential uprisings and keeping his captains in line. And he’d built up his army.

Gao had accused him of treason for these actions. The coward had made his claim a thousand li away before the imperial court. Li Tao needed to switch tactics to face such an enemy. He needed to use subterfuge and artfulness. He needed someone like Ling Suyin. That must have been why he’d been compelled to bring her here.

It was a lie. He shoved the proclamations aside. Lady Ling was here because she had been alone when he found her. She’d been abandoned. She’d been pale with fear when she’d seen him, yet the courtesan had regarded him with elegant resolve, as if she still held the empire in her thrall. He could have interrogated her by the river. He could have left her at the provincial seat in Chengdu. He could have simply ignored the cryptic warning. Instead he had taken her with him into his domain, to the place he’d worked so hard to keep away from outsiders.

He’d placed her in the south wing in the same room where his once-intended bride had stayed. The arranged marriage to the Emperor’s daughter had collapsed before they’d ever set eyes upon each other. How Gao must have delighted in that failure. In the last year, he had been visited by nothing but disaster and now Lady Ling had materialised like another ill omen.

This agitation of his senses was nothing more than the draw of any male to an alluring female. Yang to yin. But he would never make the mistake of thinking of Ling Suyin as a mere woman. She was a seductress and a shrewd manipulator. A she-demon in the guise of a beautiful woman.

Her treatment was extravagant for a prisoner. Auntie brought tea and ordered a wooden tub brought to her apartments. The bath water had to be heated in cauldrons in the courtyard and hefted up the stairs in buckets, but the guardsmen performed the task without complaint.

Suyin was left alone to soak in the steaming bath, but her muscles remained knotted and anxious. What could Li Tao possibly want from her? She considered all the possibilities, even the blandly obvious one: desire. But a powerful warlord wouldn’t seek a courtesan nearing her autumn years, or go across barricades to do so. Not when there were younger, more easily attained comforts within his borders.

In the imperial harem, a concubine who had not caught the Emperor’s eye by the age of thirty would be cast out to a convent or given to a lower minister for marriage if she was fortunate. She was nearing that age now. Besides, Li Tao didn’t look at her the way her admirers always did—with lust and yearning. Perhaps a touch of awe. Men couldn’t hide it, not even before the August Emperor. She would catch it in their heated stares before they looked away.

They were never truly looking at her.

There was no such shame in the warlord’s eyes. His gaze fixed on her so intensely, as if trying to pierce into her and pry her secrets loose. He’d find nothing there. She could fill the shell of her body with whatever spirit she needed.

The cooling water told her that her mind had wandered. She rose and dried herself without calling for Auntie. With her hair still damp, she pulled on the pale sleeping shift and crawled into the alcove of the bed, succumbing to the exhaustion of the journey.

Her body didn’t care that she was trapped in a tiger’s den, though her mind churned throughout the night. It ran with no destination.

When morning came, a shuffle of movement in the outer chamber awakened her. Her muscles ached from the restless slumber.

She sat up and eased her feet into a pair of slippers before going out into the outer chamber. ‘Auntie, what is all of this?’

The sitting room resembled a flower bed with a dress in every colour draped over the chairs and tables. Auntie lifted an armful of rose-coloured silk, vibrant and layered like the petals of an orchid.

‘The lady will look very beautiful in this.’

Suyin found an empty space among the wardrobe to seat herself. The gowns were as exquisite as the ones she had worn in the palace. Trade had dwindled in the marketplaces over the past year. Checkpoints and barricades had been erected between the provinces, stifling trade. Such finery was unseen outside of the twin capitals of Changan and Luoyang.

Strange that Li Tao would have such a collection waiting for her. She thought again of her initial suspicion, but nothing about his behavior indicated he wanted her in that way—excerpt for that one, brief flash of heat by the river.

She could never be another man’s mistress—even if she outlived the late Emperor by a hundred years she would belong to him only. It was imperial law.

‘Auntie must think the Governor and I are already lovers,’ she prodded.

The old woman pursed her lips as she laid a gown carefully over the painted screen in the corner.

‘Your master didn’t tell you that I was coming, did he?’

The loyal servant wouldn’t answer. ‘Which would the lady prefer?’ Auntie asked.

The old woman’s eyes flickered over the sea of colours. Auntie had been a young girl once. That part of her must still long for delicate, pretty things.

‘It would be quite a scandal, a former concubine and a military governor,’ Suyin went on.

With a sniff, Auntie moved to draw the curtains open. Her laboured footsteps scuffed against the rug on the floor. ‘Master Li wishes to speak to the lady this morning.’

Sunlight streamed in a wide band through the centre of the room. Suyin curled her legs up beneath her and watched Auntie as she returned to the sitting area.

‘What if I told Auntie that the governor has brought me here as his prisoner?’

‘The lady asks too many questions. She must get dressed before Master Li leaves.’

Apparently, Li Tao was not one to care about scandal and Suyin could do nothing to penetrate Auntie’s unquestioning acceptance of her master’s actions.

She selected the rose-coloured silk and followed Auntie behind the dressing screen. Auntie’s hands were slow as she tied on the embroidered bodice and pulled the outer robe over it. When Auntie bent to smooth out the layers of the skirt, Suyin wanted to urge her not to make such a fuss. There were no younger girls in the household staff to help with the task. No wife, no family. The mansion was so empty that one could hear every creak of the floorboards.

Much like her own home by the river.

Auntie evened out the ends of the crimson sash and tied it around Suyin’s waist, leaving the ends trailing down. Then the old woman beckoned her before the mirror.

‘The lady’s hair is thick and black as ink.’ Auntie ran a brush through in long strokes. ‘She is fortunate.’

One day she might live to be grey and bent like Auntie. Her skin would wither and she would be unrecognisable. Perhaps then the empire would grant her peace.

‘Auntie should know I am not the Governor Li’s mistress. I only met him a week ago. We’ve never spoken.’ She tried to catch the old woman’s eye through the reflection in the glass, but Auntie’s head remained bent at her task. ‘I am loyal to the memory of the August Emperor.’

Auntie sniffed again. ‘Master has always been loyal to the August Emperor.’

‘But not to Emperor Shen.’

Suyin winced as Auntie tugged at her hair to wrestle it into a knot. The point of the ivory hairpin jabbed into her scalp. She would have no ally here.

The claws of the familiar game were closing in, the one she had mastered in the imperial court. Who could she trust? Who would help? She had played it ever since being taken away from her home as a child, bought for the bride price of a hundred copper coins.

Watching Lady Ling was like watching a well-crafted opera. She sat before him in the parlour, shoulders lifted in elegant repose, a peach blossom against the colourless walls. The curve of her lips as she sipped her tea was too perfect to be unpractised.

‘I have been thinking.’ She glanced at him over the rim of the cup. ‘It’s not me you want.’

‘What is it that I want?’ he asked.

‘I’m nothing but a symbol. Capturing me must be as significant as—’ she looked at him with a sideways glance ‘—capturing a flag. Why else would a warlord have any interest in a lowly concubine?’

‘Lowly,’ he mused.

He leaned back against his chair to study her. Suyin was undeniably beautiful. So much so that it was both hard to look at her and hard to look away. Soft, sensual mouth and skillfuly expressive eyes wide. The ivory-pale skin at her throat alone made his fingers itch.

‘You were once a courtesan in the pleasure district of Luoyang,’ he remarked.

‘A long, long time ago, Governor.’

‘Many secrets flowed through Luoyang.’

She smiled at him. For him. ‘Wine and music and all sorts of secrets.’

The words carried the lilt of laughter, but when her gaze fixed on him he caught the cold flash of calculation. There was much more to her lure than seduction. Her every gesture spoke of possibilities. Her every movement enticed him to relax his guard, while her defences were most certainly in place. He had no patience for such ruses.

‘I have no need of a mistress.’

His words fell impassively, yet his stomach knotted at the thought of this woman in his bed. Merely a twinge before it was gone.

Her lips pressed tight. She set her teacup down with a distinct clank against the wooden table. ‘I wasn’t offering.’

Never directly. The unspoken was always so much more tempting. He could continue to let her tease and beguile or he could set the terms.

‘They say you can bring a man to his knees with a single look,’ he said.

She propped her chin on to her hands with wicked interest, well aware of the picture she presented. ‘They also say I seduced the Emperor and brought down the empire.’

‘Nonsense.’ He found his pulse increasing to the rhythm of their exchange. His body warmed and he almost liked it. ‘I know what will bring down this empire and it has nothing to do with one man’s obsessive love for his precious concubine.’

‘The Emperor never loved me.’

The abruptness of her denial surprised him. Looking downwards, Suyin traced a fingertip absently over her teacup. A ripple of sadness crossed her face. The imperfection heightened her allure and disappeared so quickly he wondered if she had put it there for his benefit. He would go mad trying to decipher her.

‘They say things about you as well.’ She was no longer trying to charm him. Her voice sharpened to a dagger’s point. ‘About all the men you’ve killed.’

‘At the Emperor’s command,’ he replied evenly.

‘And they were all at his request?’

‘No.’

The lady carried herself admirably. It was only after his prolonged silence that she blinked away.

‘The Emperor died of illness in his bed, Governor Li. I had nothing to do with it, despite what the rumours may say. If …’ She faltered, staring at the dragon ring on his second finger. ‘If that is why you’ve come for me.’

There had been rumours that the August Emperor’s sudden death had been due to poisoning. She hid her hands beneath the table, but not before he caught the tremor in them. Deliberately, he folded his fingers over the insignia, hiding the ring from view.

‘You had the most to lose from his death. The Emperor was your protector.’

‘Emperor Li Ming was a great man,’ she declared, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her.

‘Li Ming was a great man,’ he echoed.

It was best he think of her as another man’s woman, even if that man was already dead. It was best not to think of her as a woman at all. He let his gaze slide over her face, assessing her as he would an opponent. By cleverness or coincidence she invoked the name of one of the few men he respected. One of the two men to whom he had ever sworn allegiance. He had betrayed one for the other.

‘You said you knew what would bring down the empire,’ she continued in a more conversational tone. ‘What would that be?’

‘The empire will bring itself down. The imperial court has become removed from the reality of governing.’ The answer came easily. He’d seen the decay from within for too long.

‘And the warlords can smell the blood,’ she countered.

The Precious Consort had done much more than pour wine and play music during her reign in court. He watched her with more care.

‘Men who are accustomed to war find themselves restless during times of peace,’ he goaded. ‘They crave that taste of battle, the feel of death hanging over them.’

The barest of creases appeared between those pretty eyes. He found he liked catching her unaware.

‘How you must miss all those plots and schemes, Lady Ling.’

‘Miss them?’ The melodic quality of her voice sharpened. ‘I fought for my life every day in the palace.’

She tilted her gaze at him and he detected the steel beneath her elegant demeanour. A flash of armour amidst the softest silk. Endlessly elusive. No wonder men tried to capture her in paintings and flowery words. He, for reasons he couldn’t clearly discern, had simply captured her.

It was his eyes, she decided. That was why his adversaries feared him. Endless and black and set deep in a face devoid of any hint of kindness. The eyes of a man who was capable of anything. The cut of the scar across his features added to the sinister aura.

How appropriate that he spoke of battle. She could sense him circling, reading her the same way she tried to read him. The look he gave her now wasn’t warm … but it wasn’t cold. She could feel the blood rise up her neck. The low throb of her heart beat at her defences. Why did her body respond like this now? Why this man, when she needed her wits about her to survive?

He leaned closer. ‘Living with danger for so long changes you.’

Something about the remark felt ominously personal. A ghost of a smile lit his face, more in his eyes than his mouth. She traced a fingertip nervously over the tabletop. His eyes attended to her every move.

‘I don’t miss the danger. I was happy on the river.’ Or she had been, once.

‘Alone and abandoned? The beautiful Ling Guifei was not meant to fade into obscurity.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

Precious Consort Ling. Li Tao’s comment wounded her more than it should have. In the Emperor’s court even a pet name was elevated to an official rank. She was set apart from the world and would be for the rest of her life. It had been a long time since she’d had a conversation such as this one. She welcomed it, even as jagged and treacherous as it was.

She had resigned herself to exile with its loneliness and empty days. At least she had been free. Suddenly she was tired of crossing words with Li Tao, tired of guarding every look.

‘For as long as I can remember, every man I have met has wanted to bed me or kill me,’ she said bitterly. ‘Tell me which one you are so I know which face to wear.’

He straightened, incited by her directness. ‘Which sort of man is Gao?’

She frowned. ‘Gao Shiming?’ The sound of his name after all these years still made her go cold with fear. This was worse than she could have imagined.

‘What does Gao want from you?’

‘I don’t know. I’m nothing to him.’ She burned beneath Li Tao’s steady gaze and wondered if he had ever interrogated the men he’d been sent after. Or had he simply served as executioner under the Emperor’s orders?

‘So it is you and Old Gao challenging each other for the dragon throne,’ she said with forced casualness.

‘You sound bored.’

‘In the imperial court, every man is a conspirator.’

‘I have no interest in the imperial throne,’ he declared.

‘But I’m so rarely wrong.’

He smiled at her banter, but his expression intensified. ‘The empire is falling into ruin because it clings to the idea of one kingdom and one ruler. The Son of Heaven lording over the Middle Kingdom. That dream is over.’

She stiffened at his cynicism. ‘That sounds suspiciously close to treason.’

Speaking out against the Emperor with such scorn was enough to be deemed treason, but Li Tao also had an army at his command. He stood and she noticed he hadn’t touched the tea or any of the food. Cautious, even in his own home. She stared down at her own plate, recalling days in the palace when any bite could be her last.

‘Not close to treason,’ he replied. He moved behind her. A shiver travelled down her spine. ‘It is treason.’

His long fingers curled around the back of the chair, exerting his dominance. The skin of her neck burned. She was afraid to look at him. Afraid of what she’d see. His presence overshadowed her. The surrounding space closed in and she was trapped.

‘Emperor Shen has declared that we limit the strength of the provincial armies.’ His voice was cold and quiet.

‘And you refused?’

‘I will not let him cripple me. Our enemies are waiting to attack. All they need is a sign of weakness.’

She breathed with relief as he stepped away. The jiedushi had become too strong. Men like Li Tao and Gao Shiming listened only to their own ambitions. She wanted no part of it any more. Let the warlords fight their battle. All she wanted was to go home and be left in peace, but she was no longer safe there. Her past had come for her.

With Li Tao standing so close, his presence caging her in, she couldn’t help but consider the obvious solution. She could become Li Tao’s lover. From the way he devoured her with his eyes, she knew he wouldn’t refuse. She had yet to touch any part of him, but she could imagine how he would feel. Steel and fire. He would demand complete devotion, but he would be a fearsome protector. The idea sent a disturbing anticipation through her that she couldn’t comprehend.

But she had been bartered away too many times in her life. She would not sell herself again. Not when she had finally tasted freedom. She turned to him, but never had the chance to speak.

One of his guardsmen approached and stood a respectful distance away. Li Tao looked to him, and then left her with nothing more than a brief nod. One moment he was an overwhelming, overbearing force behind her. The next he was gone again as if she were too insignificant to be dismissed.

She watched Li Tao’s imposing figure as he left the courtyard. Her armed escort returned to her side. The soldier stood beside her, a pillar of unmovable rock as he waited patiently for her to stand. He would have probably waited until noon if she had decided to stay there.

Gao must be using her somehow to bait Li Tao. She needed information and Li Tao revealed so little. She needed to get away quickly. The two warlords were starting a civil war. It would pull the other warlords into the conflict as well the Emperor himself.

She stood and started back toward her chamber. The guardsman who followed her like a second shadow was perhaps a little beyond twenty years, not a veteran, but not a novice either. His face was by no means soft, but it was infinitely kinder than Li Tao’s.

The gardens were empty in the second courtyard. Ah, not completely empty. The boy with the withered arm crouched in the corner, pulling at weeds. He was so slight and unassuming, she had nearly missed him. Once again, he caught her eye before looking away hastily. When one was weak and vulnerable, the only defence was to watch and listen and learn, much like a frightened rabbit sniffing the air for the wolf. She had been that rabbit all her life, but the key was never to show the fear.

The guardsman urged her to keep moving. He lifted his hand to gesture towards the stairs. How steadfast were Li Tao’s people? Did they serve out of fear or loyalty?

‘What do you call yourself?’ she asked as she started up the steps.

‘Yao Ru Shan.’

She listened to the deliberate fall of his footsteps as they climbed upwards.

‘You must have accomplished great things to serve in such a trusted position,’ she ventured.

Nothing. Silence. She longed to find someone in this household who was not so stingy with words.

As she reached the door to her apartments, she let the end of her shawl slip from her shoulders. The delicate cloth wound down her body as it fell to the floor. She paused, allowing Ru Shan enough time to bend to retrieve it. He caught her eye as he straightened and bowed stiffly. He had a broad face, square in shape. His emotions were clearly evident in every movement. Proper, righteous, loyal above all else.

She forced back a triumphant smile as she lifted the cloth from his hands.

‘Thank you, Ru Shan.’

Loyalty could be shifted. She glanced at the soldier once more before pushing the doors open and slipping inside.

Of the servants she’d met, she wasn’t yet sure who was strong enough to stand up to Li Tao, but she needed to work quickly. She knew how this would end. Emperor Shen and the other warlords would come for Li Tao. They would cut through his barricades and destroy his army. If he hadn’t already fallen on his own sword, he would certainly hang.

Chapter Three

Li Tao’s captains assembled in a half circle before him outside the mansion. The canyon opened wide behind them. He had summoned them from their posts to give their reports in person. He needed to look each man in the eye. Now more than ever before, loyalty was critical.

‘Governor Li.’

Lady Ling’s voice rang out over the expanse of stone, much like the floating beauties of Luoyang. They would coo and flirt from windows that overlooked the streets, but their entreaties were never for him. He kept his back to her pointedly.

‘My lord, I have something to discuss with you,’ she said, with the carelessness of a breeze. ‘Oh, forgive me. You’re occupied.’

Grey-haired Zhao glanced upwards. ‘Ling Guifei?’

The other men seemed to lose focus at Zhao’s breach of etiquette. Their gazes drifted past him to seek out the infamous beauty. Even the most seasoned of them could not remain disciplined.

‘Gentlemen.’

A single, sharp reprimand brought all eyes back to him. The captains straightened with deliberate attention.

Suyin did nothing without a purpose. She’d chosen this moment for a display of will. By midmorning, word of the Precious Consort would spread through the barracks along with the rumours.

What an enticing picture she must present overhead, elegantly poised over the balcony as she held his men in rapture. He didn’t need to look upon her. He could see the furtive desire reflected in every man’s face. Li Tao’s blood simmered.

How had the August Emperor dealt with the knowledge that every man wanted his concubine? Of course, a sovereign was supposedly blessed by heaven and above such jealousy, while Li Tao was just a man.

And Suyin was not his concubine.

He listened to the rest of the reports and then dismissed the captains. He turned once the last man was gone. ‘Yes, Guifei?’

Her gown was blue today, evoking cool air and sky. She leaned forwards with her hands braced against the rail, tapping a nail against the polished wood in agitation. ‘I don’t like being called that.’

‘Lady Ling, then. What is it you need to discuss with me?’

‘The artwork in this chamber.’

‘There is no artwork there.’

‘Precisely.’

Conversation with her was indeed an intricate dance. He waited.

‘If I am to be held prisoner in this room, there should be something to look at besides these four walls,’ she said.

‘You are not being held prisoner.’

She stared down at him incredulously. ‘I am not?’

‘Go to the door.’

He was unable to resist a smirk as she disappeared through the curtain. In a heartbeat, she appeared around the side of the house. She aimed a line towards him, lifting her skirt out of the way of her feet. Ru Shan followed closely behind.

Li Tao assessed her quickly, not allowing his gaze to linger. Her hair was carefully pinned and her cheeks held a hint of colour. That was the essence of Ling Suyin. All she ever permitted was a hint.

She came up right beside him, close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. ‘Am I free to leave, then?’

He shook his head. ‘The house, the gardens. Explore them as you wish.’

‘But not beyond?’

‘I cannot ensure that you are protected otherwise.’

She made a derisive sound. ‘Protected.’

Even her indignation was somehow charming. He had always assumed a courtesan’s power was in distraction, in idle conversation and empty flattery. Suyin was much more complicated.

She gestured at the now-empty area. ‘Were those your notorious captains?’

‘An interesting display you put on for them. If they were young and brash, one of them might consider putting a knife in my back to take possession of you.’

‘Like a trophy,’ she said with a sigh. ‘The August Emperor always boasted about your soldiers, how fierce and disciplined they were. How does a new army gain such a formidable reputation?’

He shrugged away her attempt at flattery. ‘Young men have something to prove.’

‘Perhaps their leader has something to prove?’

‘You can’t truly be interested in this.’

She tilted her head in what wasn’t an answer. When she turned away, he found himself following obligingly as she wandered toward the gorge. There must be a wisp of sorcery within her.

‘This house looks like it’s about to fall off the edge of the world.’ She peered into the misted depths.

‘The cliff provides a natural barrier. Easy to defend.’

‘Have you ever seen the bottom?’ She inched forwards until her toes touched against the emptiness beyond. A breeze stirred from the chasm.

‘Stand back,’ he cautioned. What he wanted to do was wrap an arm around her and drag her back to safety.

She took her time before complying. The silk of her gown rippled against him while he inhaled, then exhaled slowly. He hadn’t moved, yet his heart was pumping fast. She was playing with him. He was … he was letting her.

‘You know that bringing me here can be seen as an act of defiance.’ The words were a warning, but her tone was one that stroked his skin. ‘It would be best if you released me. What use could I be to you when you already have soldiers from the mountain to the sea?’

‘Where would you go?’ he asked. ‘Old Gao was looking for you. He expected you to be alone.’

She swallowed. ‘Gao again.’

‘Gao sent assassins after you that day.’ He stepped close, fighting the urge to touch her. ‘It’s not me you should be frightened of.’

‘You stopped them? Why?’

Why? He didn’t have to be a hero to want to save a lone woman from being destroyed senselessly.

‘I’m grateful, then. All this time, I thought that I … that you …’ She blinked up at him, looking confused and vulnerable.

‘I don’t want gratitude,’ he spat out. ‘All I want is answers.’

She flinched and the mask returned. Good. The seasoned courtesan was an easier adversary to deal with.

‘What have you done to make an enemy of Gao?’ he asked.

Her gaze became distant. ‘Perhaps I do know a few things about Governor Gao Shiming.’

Suyin didn’t know if it was the chasm at her back or Li Tao’s imposing presence that had her heart beating so wildly. He was fearsome to behold up close, with nothing and no one between them to shield her.

‘Everyone knows Gao wants that throne,’ she said.

He threw her a look of mild impatience. ‘I do not need to know what everyone knows, my lady.’

The strength of his face fascinated her. She had never seen anything like it. From his sun-darkened skin to the short crop of his hair, he looked nothing like the cultured ministers of the court. He was staring at her intently, willing her to reveal her secrets. There was an almost frightening beauty to his harsh features.

‘Should I write you a list? Recall every plot he’s orchestrated? Every man he’s sent to the executioner? Gao has built his influence over the reign of three emperors.’

‘Then what do you have that could possibly be a threat?’

She had to be careful. The secrets she kept were enough to cut her own throat. ‘Do men like you need a reason?’

He grew very quiet. ‘Men like me.’

He met her eyes with a look that took her breath. She had no answer. Li Tao had raised a strike force so fierce that no one dared to challenge him directly, not even Emperor Shen. But he had saved her life.

She would not play these men against each other. She had never used the art of secrets in that way. All she’d ever wanted was to stay alive. And, as single-minded as Li Tao was, she wasn’t even certain he could be manipulated.

‘Gao is cunning,’ he continued when she said nothing. ‘More clever than I. Probably cleverer than you. It could be that he planted you here, so conveniently in my hands.’

She’d had the same thought, but she denied it vehemently now. ‘Gao is nothing to me. We haven’t spoken in all these years.’

Her view of the house was suddenly blocked by the expanse of his shoulders. She tried to slip past, but the sharp drop of the gorge prevented her escape.

‘You have been trying to seduce me from the moment we met,’ he accused lightly.

‘That would be foolish.’ And dangerous.

‘No? Then why are you looking at me like that?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She had spent so many years presenting a face to the world. Beckoning glances and secret looks. Perhaps it had simply become a part of her.

He prowled a step closer and her mouth went dry. Every breath came with great effort. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be cornered. A predatory glint lighted his eyes.

‘I might consider it.’ His voice was a low strum in her ear. ‘If the situation were different.’

Her cheeks flushed and she couldn’t deny the dark thrill uncoiling within her. But this wasn’t about desire. It was about control and Li Tao wielded it meticulously. She assessed the impenetrable fortress of a man before her.

‘I might consider it as well,’ she replied. ‘If you were not on the brink of death.’

His expression darkened. There was too much risk becoming involved with a man like Li Tao. A man who had no fear of consequences. His hand circled her arm as she attempted to move past him. His grip wasn’t forceful, but she couldn’t break free.

‘Is this all an act?’ he asked.

‘Yes. All of it.’ Her voice held steady, though her pulse jumped erratically.

She was used to being watched. Being admired no longer moved her, but Li Tao’s black gaze penetrated despite her defences. The heat from his hand seeped through the thin material of her robe. Everything about him overwhelmed her with quiet power: his commanding height, the hard shape of his mouth as he regarded her. With just the pressure of his fingers, he drew her closer.

She expected the descent of his mouth, but never would have anticipated the gentleness of the kiss. Her lips parted as his explored hers. His fingertips lifted to her cheek in an undemanding, but undeniably possessive caress. She nearly allowed her eyes to fall closed. She almost yielded against the heat and pressure and the slow stir of his mouth. Instead she dug her nails sharply into the flesh of her palms. She fastened her eyes on to his, permitting the kiss, but never surrendering.

He lifted his head a mere inch, hovering close. His breath caressed over her as if the kiss hadn’t yet ended. ‘All deception?’

‘I have been wooed by kings and poets, but you, only you, have ever touched my heart.’

She mocked him with a lover’s whisper, but he smiled in response.

‘I like the lie.’

The low roughness of his voice stroked down her spine. If she didn’t remain focused on his face, she would stumble helplessly into the abyss. Li Tao was an impossible man to read. His gaze smouldered with desire; the scant space between them grew laden with it. But there was something else in his eyes, insurmountable control and calculation.

‘With a face like this you must have had countless lovers.’

Surprisingly gentle fingers traced a line along her jaw and a fever rushed over her. She needed to free herself. He had her cornered in every way possible.

‘You are mistaken,’ she whispered. ‘I choose my lovers very carefully.’

‘I would never expect something for nothing. Especially not from you.’

‘From what I have heard, you’re not much for negotiation,’ she said.

‘Give me one night.’

Her retort caught in her throat. His suggestion, presented with such cutting clarity, shouldn’t have caused a flood of heat in her stomach or the trail of yearning that slipped between her legs like a slow curl of smoke.

Li Tao himself seemed troubled by the proposal. ‘You can’t be surprised,’ he taunted, but it came out hoarse, without his usual force behind it.

‘I already told you, I am not on offer.’

For the first time, her feminine instincts failed her. She should have turned this negotiation to her advantage; instead she wondered how Li Tao would feel crushed against her, skin to heated skin. His kiss wouldn’t be so controlled then.

But she knew what this was beneath the rise and fall of his chest, beneath the heat of his touch. It was only the desire of a powerful man pursuing an unattainable prize. The moment she gave him what he wanted, her appeal would fade.

He smiled faintly. ‘The answer is no, then.’

‘The answer is no.’

She brushed past, careful not to touch him. Her knees threatened to crumble with each step.

‘If I had not come for you, you would be dead,’ he reminded, catching up with her easily.

‘Li Tao.’ There was a misplaced intimacy in addressing him so directly. ‘I know very well you were not acting out of kindness. Now show me the rest of this prison since it appears I might be here for a while.’

He walked beside her with his hands clasped behind his back. To anyone observing, they might even appear companionable. Between him and Gao, she was caught between an old cunning tiger and a young fierce one.

Chapter Four

Luoyang—ad 737 22 years earlier

The streets of Luoyang never slept. After the evening gong, the section gates would close, but the drinking and gambling within the wards would continue until dawn. All the harder to scratch out survival as a thief.

During the day, Tao could snatch a yam from a pedlar’s basket and push his way into the web of alleys behind the shopfronts. He would tuck himself into a dingy corner and devour it raw, chewing through the coarse skin. When he was waist-high and stick-thin, he could hazard such recklessness and suffer only a beating if caught. The welts toughened him until he grew numb to the sting of a bamboo switch. Now that he was older, the archers upon the city wall would simply put an arrow through him before he could shove through the crowd. He had no choice but to wait for night-time when darkness provided cover. But the city remained active and the guard patrols stayed ever vigilant.

The gambling halls and pleasure quarters stood as palaces of the gutter world and the lords who ran them were brutal men who could not be crossed. There was always business brewing in their shadows, jobs for someone who knew the alleys of Luoyang better than the rats.

Feng, the head of the eastern street gangs, held out a knife to him in the alley behind the drinking house. A slant of light from the back door illuminated their meeting and the smell of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen. The greasy, rich aroma nearly brought tears to his eyes.

‘Boy like you wouldn’t have a good knife.’ Feng’s smile revealed uneven, yellowed teeth. ‘Looks suspicious, if you’re caught.’

The weapon was rusted near the handle. Tao closed his hand around the hilt. He didn’t ask about the man Feng wanted killed. There was no need to know any more when he had decided this was the only way.

‘Be sure to hit the heart.’

Feng poked a bony finger against his ribcage and Tao swallowed his anger at the indignity. He was little more than skin and bone, his shoulders just beginning to broaden.

‘Follow through and shove the blade upwards,’ Feng said with a final vicious jab. ‘Even if you miss, he won’t survive for long.’

Tao hid the knife close to his side and gripped it so hard his fingers stiffened around it. The roughened hilt melded to the flesh of his palm. He didn’t have far to walk, only across the street into a dark corner where he could see the entrance to the drinking house. Laughter came from inside, floating down from the upper level where noblemen dined and whored, fat with food and wine. All he had to do was wait for the right one to come out.

His legs grew stiff with waiting. He dropped his shoulder against the mortared brick of the alley. Hour after hour, noblemen staggered out of the door, tripping over their ornate robes. Eventually, the laughter died down. The lanterns still glowed from the rafters, but the clink of cups had grown sparse.

The man wasn’t in there. Feng had given him only this one night to do this deed and the man wasn’t there. Or Tao had missed him in those moments when he had let his eyelids drop out of exhaustion. In desperation, he considered rushing the door and ploughing upstairs to find the man. How far would he get, an unwashed street urchin with his clothes worn threadbare?

Two men came stumbling through the beaded curtain over the entrance. Tao straightened and his palm started to sweat around the knife.

Two. He hadn’t anticipated that. Either of them could overpower him.

‘One more!’ The nobleman weaved back and forth in the blue robe that marked him as the target. ‘One more for the road.’

His companion laughed beside him and dragged him upright. ‘Not a drop left in the place, my friend.’

Now. He moved without taking the time to shake the stiffness from his limbs, without any thought as to how he would fight off both men. Only the companion saw Tao emerge on to the street. His expression sobered, but he didn’t call out for help. He merely straightened and stepped away.

Tao stalked forwards like a tiger, like an arrow. He didn’t look at the man’s face. He focused in on the point between his ribs where Feng had directed him. The knife lifted and he shoved the blade with all his strength, punching through cloth and flesh, never stopping. This was the only way.

Hot, thick blood washed over his hand, the copper stink of it like the butcher shop. The man made a grunting, gurgling noise. Only then did Tao glimpse his face. He wished he hadn’t. Rounded cheeks and weak chin with eyes wide in confusion. His careless drunkenness stopped cold.

The blade snapped and Tao staggered backwards, grasping only the hilt. He ran, shoving his way back into the shadows. At any moment, the outcry would rouse the city guards, and he would hear the twang of the archer’s bow. The arrow would enter his back and pierce through his heart like the rusty blade had pierced the nobleman’s chest.

It was the first time he had taken a life. He felt no joy in the killing, but he felt no remorse either. The truth was he felt nothing. None of the nervous exhilaration or hunger that came when snatching food from the marketplace.

He found Feng in another nest of alleyways at the designated spot. His decaying smile gleamed lurid in the dimness. Feng dropped three coins into Tao’s palm.

Somehow Tao’s feet took him back through the wards to the familiar hovel tucked in quieter streets. The sky was lightening in the stillness before the market gong. Auntie’s window lay open. The old woman trusted no harm would come to her. From the doorstep, he could hear her stirring a pot of rice for the morning meal. The heat from her stove clung sweet and warm around him.

He stared down at the coins in his hand, a wicked hint of silver stained red. He rubbed the coins clean against his sleeve and dropped them just inside the window before turning to go.

Present day—ad 759

The rhythm and pattern of the household was an easy one to find once Li Tao released her from confinement. The mansion was arranged neatly in a double courtyard. Each morning, several servants could be seen sweeping along the bays. The clip of the gardener’s shears sounded in the garden. The kitchen and all the meals were ruled over by a balding cook that everyone called ‘Cook’. A regiment of soldiers patrolled the perimeter, but rarely set foot in the house. If she watched from the windows, she could measure the day by their rounds.

The routine was ordinary. Mundane enough to lure her into a false sense of security. Li Tao often rode out early in the morning before the house awoke. Late at night, she would see a candle burning in his study. It had taken only two days to realise she could see his window from the garden.

She waited each day for their next encounter. He had interrogated her, taunted her and kissed her. A kiss that was as inscrutable as he was. And then the contemptible proposition for a single night in her bed—but he hadn’t sought her again after that.

Every morning, Auntie brought her a tray with tea and her morning meal along with news about the price of grain and what Cook was preparing for the midday meal. Today, the rice congee had settled into a cold paste and Auntie was oddly silent while she helped her dress.

‘Be cautious today,’ Auntie warned as she tied her sash. ‘Today is an unfavourable day.’

Astrology was one of Auntie’s pastimes. She would count the days off on her fingers and declare it a favourable day or a poor one. She had already divined that the year would be a difficult one for Suyin. An easy prediction considering she was being held prisoner by a rogue jiedushi and wanted dead by another one. Auntie deliberately overlooked the circumstances with happy ignorance like a frog in a well. Suyin wondered how much Li Tao had revealed to any of the servants.

Her morning stroll through the garden revealed an uncharacteristic silence. The servants were gathered in the front hall. They pressed against the entrance, craning their necks like a flock of geese to see over one another.

‘It has happened again,’ one of them murmured.

‘Why is everyone whispering?’ Suyin asked, coming up behind them.

‘Superstitious peasants,’ Auntie scoffed, but she too stood back.

The servants stepped aside for her as she peered out through the open doors. The clearing at the front of the mansion was empty except for the swaying shadows of the bamboo stalks.

‘There’s nothing there.’ Suyin found that she too had dropped her voice to a hush. The press of the servants hovered at her back.

‘Over there, between the lion statues.’

One of them pointed out the spot to her. A red parcel rested on the top step, a splash of jarring crimson against the white stone.

‘It came in the night.’

‘Same as last year.’

‘Same as every year.’

She looked back at the servants. ‘What is it?’

They all shook their heads while Auntie worried her hands together and said nothing. It was clear they were waiting for her to do something, deferring to her because of her perceived status.

She turned back to the silk-wrapped parcel. Her rational mind told her this air of mystery was unwarranted. Someone intended for this delivery to spark gossip. With a show of resolution, she squared her shoulders and stepped out beyond the portico.

‘Lady Ling, wait!’

It was the first time Jun, the gardener’s assistant, had spoken directly to her. Without thinking, he reached for her sleeve with his one good arm, but then shrank back embarrassed.

‘Be careful,’ he said.

She was touched by the display of gallantry.

‘There is nothing to be afraid of,’ she assured all of them, but her voice rang eerily in the still morning.

This endeavour had become a test of will. They were all petrified with a mixture of curiosity and fear and looked to her to take the lead. She couldn’t give up the opportunity to establish authority. With a deep breath, she stepped past the threshold.

The guardsman Ru Shan walked protectively beside her as she made her way to the steps. He had become her constant shadow from the moment she set foot outside her apartments each day.

‘Do you know?’ she asked him.

He shook his head slowly and his gaze swept the bamboo forest surrounding them. As they neared the package, he moved a hand to his sword as if the box would lash out at them like a snake. What was this ominous delivery? And where was Li Tao while his servants cowered?

She knelt to pick up the package and straightened quickly. Nothing happened. She could feel the edges of a wooden box beneath the silk. Unable to resist, she tipped it this way and that to try to decipher the contents.

‘Lady Ling!’ Auntie called to her from the house, like a worried mother whose child had strayed too far. ‘Come back inside.’

Suyin held the box close and spared one final glance out to the forest, glancing into the endless dance of bamboo. The click-clack of insects greeted them from the lush depths. Back inside the servants closed around her, staring at the silk-covered box in her hands. None of them dared ask her to open it.

‘Where is Governor Li?’ she asked.

Auntie nodded toward the first corridor that wound its way down the main bay. ‘In his chamber.’

‘His chamber?’

Li Tao usually emerged from his apartments before dawn. The curiosity in the front hall had grown thick. She couldn’t help but imagine there was some hidden power in the box she held in her hands. It was wrapped in the style of wedding gifts and festival offerings. It made her heart beat faster, holding that little box that had the entire household in awe.

‘I’ll bring it to him,’ she said.

The servants nodded, co-conspirators in this adventure. Auntie took a couple of steps alongside her before stepping away at the mouth of the corridor. From what she had seen, no one ever went down this corridor but Li Tao.

Ru Shan made no protest and let her take the lead. Day by day, he was relinquishing control to her. The changes were so small he couldn’t notice, but she paid very close attention.

At the end of the walkway, a Taoist mirror hung over a set of double doors to ward off evil. This must have been Auntie’s doing. Li Tao didn’t appear to be a believer in mystic symbols.

She knocked against the door. ‘Governor Li?’

‘Guifei?’ His deep voice sounded from inside, raised in surprise.

Why did he insist on calling her that? That title didn’t mean anything anymore.

‘A delivery has arrived for you.’

There was silence, followed by a furtive shifting within.

‘Enter,’ he said finally.

She pushed the door open with two fingers. Li Tao sat with his chair propped against the opposite wall, dressed in his usual dark robe. Light filtered through the waxed panes of the window behind him, casting his face in shadow. To one side, set within an alcove, was his bed.

When she had first thought of it, there was something wickedly bold about approaching Li Tao in his private chambers. She suddenly regretted her recklessness.

‘I have something for you.’

He stared at the parcel in her hands. ‘Come inside and close the door.’

She hovered in the doorway, too astonished to comply. Ru Shan tensed beside her in the hall. His growing protectiveness could be of use, but a direct confrontation with Li Tao would prove deadly. Hastily, she slipped into the room and shut the door behind her.

Once again, she was alone with the warlord. The mystery of the box was suddenly overpowered by a more primal instinct. She edged along the wall, keeping her distance.

‘It’s been days since I’ve seen you,’ he said.

‘You know exactly where I am, Governor. I can hardly hide from you,’ she teased in an attempt to conceal her growing unease. He still hadn’t moved from his seat.

‘You’ve been busy,’ she continued.

‘Yes.’

‘This … this was left at the house last night.’

She hated the desperation of her one-sided conversation. Every time they engaged one another, she seemed to have lost any ground she’d gained previously. The last time they had spoken, he’d kissed her—though it was more a challenge than a lover’s kiss.

He had scandalously proposed she spend one night in his bed. Her thoughts wandered back to it every night while she slept far away from his chamber, but now that she was here, the proposal came back to her with a sharpness that stole her breath.

Swallowing past the sudden knot in her throat, she held out the box. ‘Is this a gift?’

‘Open it.’

The ribbon pulled free easily and she let the tail of it run from her fingers as she unwound the silk wrapping to reveal a rosewood box inlaid with a circle of jade on the lid.

‘Look inside.’ His voice pulled tight around each word.

Slowly, she lifted the brass clasp and nearly dropped the box when she caught the gleam of the blade. It was a dagger, the triangular blade thick and wickedly tapered. She set the case on to the table with trembling hands and backed away quickly.

‘Flattering that the old man should send such a pretty weapon,’ he said.

His attention focused singularly on to her, his icy demeanour vastly different from the man who had pressed his lips to hers so seductively. A thin, shadowed object lay across his palm.

‘I always knew he had people hidden close to the heart of the empire.’

Her stomach lurched. It was a knife in his hand. He twirled the weapon carelessly between his fingers.

She backed away from the box one step at a time. ‘You’re mistaken. I had nothing to do with this.’

It was useless to beg. That was his reputation, wasn’t it? When Li Tao came for you, your pleas fell upon deaf ears. The blood drained from her face while her mind fumbled for an escape.

‘Did he also find you in Luoyang?’ he asked.

His question caught her off guard. He rose to his feet and she stumbled back, her shoulders coming up against the alcove of the bed.

‘He would see how your beauty could be used.’

‘Gao?’ Had he somehow guessed her connection to the old warlord?

She flinched when he took hold of her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. ‘The rulers of this empire are so drawn to beauty.’

There was no compliment in his words. The knife remained poised lightly in his free hand. The threat of it brought her to another time and place. The same haze of fear had choked her then. The men who had come for her had looked at her with cold eyes as they’d held out two choices, a knife or poison.

‘Gao doesn’t own me.’ Whatever ploy this was, she knew nothing about it. She’d been snared in it somehow and she had to convince him.

‘No, not Gao.’

Faster than a serpent’s strike, he had her arms pinned against the bed frame. He still held the knife. She gasped as the bone handle dug into her wrist.

‘Did Lao Sou send you?’ he demanded.

‘Who?’

‘Did the old man send you?’

‘I don’t know any old man. No one sent me.’

‘Someone wanted you here. With me.’

His face was a rigid mask above her, jaw taut, his mouth a harsh line. If she called for help, Ru Shan would come storming in, but then Li Tao would kill them both. He held her pinned and there was nothing she could offer, nothing she could bargain with. She had never felt so helpless.

She was only alive at his whim. Nothing could sway him. Not vulnerability or tears or lies. Her desperate plea came out in a flood of words.

‘You think anyone would send me to kill you? That I would walk in and do it while you were watching? You took me from my home. All I want is to go back.’

He had her caged against the bed, overpowered by his size and strength. A glimmer alighted in his eyes, a spark of passion amidst the blind anger. His hold loosened enough for her to slip her arms free.

She thought he would kiss her again. He was so close, the heat of his body enveloping her. Wildly, she realised she wanted him to. It would be no gentle caress this time. Not with the tension that vibrated through him. She needed something to penetrate this terrifying coldness.

‘You know who sent that box.’ Her breath came in shallow pulls. ‘Someone who sends it every year.’

‘I have powerful enemies.’

He was still watching her, a sharp line etched between his brows. She was afraid to move, afraid to invoke the demon caged inside him. His chest rose and fell, the pulse in his throat jumping beneath the tanned skin as the tension transformed to desire. There was an answering call within her. It was always this way between them, though she couldn’t understand why.

‘What does it mean?’ she asked.

Her mention of the dagger broke the thrall over him. He glanced once at the open box.

‘Leave.’

Chapter Five

As soon as Li Tao freed her, she fled from the room and stumbled through the corridor. She could still feel the bruising pressure of his hands pinning her, holding her captive.

Auntie waited at the end of the corridor, her expression twisted with worry.

‘Lady Ling?’

Suyin tore past the old woman and left the servants in the entrance hall.

‘My lady, what happened?’

Auntie insisted on following her into the garden. Struggling for breath, Suyin sank on to one of the flattened boulders lying in the soft grass. She needed to escape from here. Her captor was not only ruthless, he was likely mad.

‘Unfavourable day, indeed,’ Suyin snapped. ‘You knew what would happen, didn’t you?’

The old woman stood several steps away, her hands clasped before her demurely. Suyin clutched at the smooth stone below her, trying to steady the pounding of her heart. It always came to this, a knife at her throat, men coming to silence her. When she’d left the palace, she had vowed that she would no longer be used in the schemes of powerful men. She had been brought here by someone’s design, she was certain of it.

‘Auntie was hoping the lady could convince Master Li.’

‘Convince him of what?’

The old woman shrank back at her anger, but Suyin couldn’t find it within her to feel any remorse. Li Tao had held a blade to her. He had never directly threatened her with it, but that didn’t matter. What frightened her even more was what had happened afterwards. She had fought to keep herself safe from men like him all her life, only to be drawn to Li Tao despite every survival instinct within her. They called it the seduction of power. She hadn’t fully believed in it until now.

‘What could I possibly convince him to do?’ She raised herself to her feet. ‘I am a prisoner, brought here against my will.’

A commotion rose from the depths of the front hall. The sound of Li Tao’s strident voice resonated against the walls followed by the stamp of his footsteps. She was relieved to have some distance between them as he left.

‘Master Li is a good man.’ Auntie ventured forwards to grasp her sleeve. ‘You are the only one he will listen to.’

‘He listens to no one.’

‘That is not true! Master spends more time here now. He enquires about your welfare constantly.’

He had asked Auntie about her? Most likely he was trying to discover her secrets.

Suyin pulled away in agitation. ‘If he didn’t make everyone out to be an enemy, he wouldn’t need to live in constant fear.’

She didn’t realise the truth of it until she spoke the words aloud. Li Tao had been afraid, as she was afraid. It was apparent that Auntie worried for him as well. Auntie trusted her and she needed to find a way to use that to her advantage. It was her best chance for escape.

‘Auntie, the governor speaks constantly of defiance and rebellion.’ She lowered her tone cautiously. ‘I’m afraid it will destroy him.’

‘Master is not a traitor. He’s a good man.’

Suyin watched guiltily as tears gathered in the old woman’s eyes.

‘The box is a warning, isn’t it?’ Suyin asked.

Auntie started to respond, but then clamped her mouth shut and glanced furtively towards the house.

‘Governor Li is gone,’ Suyin assured. ‘What does the box mean? Has your master ever mentioned an old man?’

Li Tao had interrogated her about an old man, Lao Sou, when he’d had her pinned.

‘Old man? Cook is old …’

Suyin sighed impatiently. ‘Not Cook.’

‘The box is a reminder.’ Auntie whispered even though the others were too far away to hear. ‘Master doesn’t think I know, but Auntie remembers everything. Once it was a sign of favour. Now it is a warning.’

‘Favour?’

‘From the August Emperor.’

‘The August Emperor is dead. He has been dead for two years.’

‘I know that!’ Auntie snapped. The old woman wasn’t completely intimidated. ‘The Emperor would send Master Li a gift every year in honour of his service. Since his death, someone else must be sending the gift to remind him of his loyalty to the empire.’

Suyin bit back her cynical response. It was either Gao or some other rival who was sending the dagger to provoke Li Tao, but Auntie would think the best of him no matter what the circumstances.

She needed to bend Auntie’s fear and loyalty to her advantage. She took hold of Auntie’s thinning shoulders and spoke in a grave tone.

‘Li Tao has refused to swear loyalty to the throne. How long before Emperor Shen publicly denounces him?’

Auntie paled, but she could only nod in agreement. If Auntie knew about the armies and the barricades, then she must know that Li Tao’s days were numbered.

‘The lady must convince him to reconsider. He hangs on your every word. He is so taken with you that he is afraid to blink when you are near for fear of losing sight of you.’

If only some measure of her reputation were true. Men didn’t fall at her feet in adoration as the stories claimed. It was all careful observation and planning. And Li Tao was endlessly unpredictable, more so than anyone she had ever met. He wanted nothing from her but one night. A conquest. Very far from being in her thrall.

‘Your master’s pride will not allow it,’ Suyin argued. ‘But I may have some sway with Emperor Shen.’

Auntie’s eyes brightened with hope, never questioning the lie. Former consorts had no power at all, especially after the scandals and rebellions that had followed the August Emperor’s death. She had been fortunate that Emperor Shen had allowed her to leave the palace with her freedom and her life.

‘If I can send a letter to Changan, I will speak on your master’s behalf,’ she pressed.

‘But who will deliver the message?’

Her gaze shifted to Ru Shan at the other end of the garden. Li Tao had chosen an honourable man to guard her, but such honour could be adapted to her advantage. Auntie would go along, as well. The dear old woman cared for Li Tao. No one had ever fought so hard to save her. She had always been on her own, even while supposedly under the August Emperor’s protection.

The imperial court had forgotten she had ever existed. But the Emperor Shen was a just ruler. When he found out that Li Tao had taken her, he would demand her return. She would be gone from this house before Li Tao’s many enemies closed in on him.

When they returned to the house, the plan was already in place. Auntie herded the servants away before beckoning Suyin down the corridor. Ru Shan followed silently behind. He was easy to turn to their cause. Protecting a defenceless woman against a warlord appealed to his warrior’s code.

Needles of guilt pricked at her heart. It had been too easy for her to manipulate an old woman’s trust and a soldier’s loyalty to her advantage. She was nothing but lies wrapped upon lies and she always had been. She had no choice. No one could save Li Tao. He had already declared his fate by defying the throne. Still, she hoped she would be released without bloodshed. Li Tao wouldn’t risk his position to keep her captive. And when she was free, perhaps she would be able to speak on his behalf.

What did she care what became of Li Tao. Already she was losing her sense of purpose. She needed to concentrate.

Auntie padded hurriedly down the hall, stopping before a set of doors opposite the bed chamber. Even while Li Tao was gone, his foreboding presence lingered.

‘No one is allowed inside the master’s study,’ Auntie told her as she slipped a key into the door.

‘Be quick!’

Li Tao trusted Auntie and no one else. It made her wonder about the true relationship between the two of them.

Auntie pushed the door open, but would not enter. She poked her head inside to search about as if fearing Li Tao might have returned. When she was satisfied, she waved Suyin in.

‘Master remembers where he puts everything,’ Auntie warned before shutting her inside.

The wooden desk was arranged below an aperture in the roof to allow for light. Suyin hurried to the desk and peeled a blank sheet of paper free from the stack and folded it into her sleeve. She hoped he didn’t go so far as to count them. A spare ink stick and brush quickly followed. They would need to return these items to their exact locations. She couldn’t resist a quick scan of the desk, but Li Tao had left no communications in sight.

She turned to go, but curiosity overwhelmed her like an insistent itch. The study was as simple and austere as the rest of the house, the walls were bare. How could Li Tao stand to stare at blank walls day after day? Did he do nothing but plan his battles?

A single cabinet spanned the far wall next to a shelf of books. There had to be something inside that would give her a hint of who Li Tao was. Even though she would soon be gone, she needed to know.

In case there was some way to use the information, she told herself.

Like Auntie, she looked once more over her shoulder, searching the corners of the room with unreasonable caution. She imagined Li Tao sitting alone in the dark at his desk with a single lamp burning beside him.

Be assured of your success and you cannot fail. Madame from the pleasure quarters used to say that. Suyin said it to herself now.

She pulled on the handle and found the cabinet unlocked. The oiled hinges swung wide to reveal a set of identical daggers to the one in the box. The blades were crafted from blackened steel and they fanned out against the inner wall in a grand display. She held her breath as she counted them. There were fifteen.

By the next morning, Suyin feared that Auntie would worry her fingers to the bone with how often she wrung them together. Suyin sat her down and poured the tea for both of them.

‘Auntie does not look well,’ she suggested mildly.

‘The lady is kind, but Auntie is fine—’

‘Perhaps Auntie should stay in bed for the day,’ she interrupted pointedly. ‘Let someone else tend to the governor.’

Li Tao would hear Auntie’s nervous rambling and know immediately that something was out of place. Suyin’s plan was already in motion and all she had to do was wait. Hopefully Auntie’s ability to present a good face would strengthen with time.

Auntie spilled her tea over the table when a knock sounded on the door. Suyin left Auntie to answer it herself.

Jun stood in the hallway, averting his eyes from her face. Her heart went out to the boy when she saw how he tried to hide his withered arm, angling his left side away.

‘Master Li wishes to see you. He is in the garden,’ Jun said shyly.

She breathed with relief. They would be outside in full view of the servants. After the way Li Tao had threatened her, she couldn’t risk being trapped alone with him. Auntie stood back in the sitting area, her forehead creased in a nest of lines. This was how honest people reacted to deception. She gave Auntie a reassuring nod before stepping outside.

Jun fell into step behind her. He was tall with the lanky awkwardness of youth. From what she could see, Li Tao provided for his servants, yet Jun retained a lean wiriness that came from a childhood of scarcity. She had seen it in her village and in the streets of Luoyang.

‘How long have you served the governor?’ she asked.

She strained to hear his mumbled answer.

‘Eight years, Lady Ling.’

Li Tao presented a confusing picture. He was an efficient military governor. His men were disciplined and loyal, and he was known for promoting men through the ranks based on skill rather than social standing, much like the August Emperor. Yet the warlord surrounded himself with such an incongruous crew of servants.

‘Where did you live before?’ she asked to distract herself as they descended the stairs to the second courtyard.

‘At a monastery … an orphanage,’ Jun corrected himself. ‘Auntie asked for Master Li to take me in.’

‘That was generous of him.’ So he was capable of kindness. He also seemed to be obliging and respectful of Auntie.

Jun stopped abruptly at the edge of the courtyard. ‘Lady Ling?’

‘Yes?’

He bowed his head. ‘You are very beautiful.’

Despite her jaded nature, his sincerity warmed her. This unassuming boy, innocent and hopeful, expected nothing in return for his flattery.

‘Thank you for your kind words, Master Jun,’ she said with a smile.

He blushed furiously at that and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the walk to the garden.

They emerged through the circled archway and her attention centred on to Li Tao. He stood beneath the shade of the cedarwood pavilion. Stood rather than sat. He never paced, never made any unnecessary movements. He turned and studied her as she approached. His feral side was held in restraint; at least she hoped so. Her pulse quickened.

‘Lady Ling.’

He invited her to sit with an outstretched hand, but she stopped short of the pavilion and refused to come any closer. Jun stood by her side, looking confused.

‘It is difficult to be gracious when you held a knife to me the last time we met.’

Li Tao’s steely expression transformed into a frown. He dismissed Jun with a wave of his hand and the boy backed away, kneeling to some task behind the shrubbery.

‘I frightened you,’ Li Tao said. ‘I apologise. Please sit.’

His façade of civility didn’t reassure her. She ascended the wooden steps into the pavilion and noticed the faint shadow over his jaw as she glanced up at him. He looked unkempt, as if he’d just come from the road. She moved past him to take her seat on the stone bench.

It wasn’t only fear that caused her heart to race. His nearness stirred her blood, urging her to tempt fate. That made him more dangerous than Gao and all of the other interlopers who had ever plotted against her. When he seated himself across the table, she was grateful for the barrier between them.

‘Ru Shan is away,’ he said. ‘I will need to assign another guardsman to your care.’

She smoothed out her sleeves and folded her hands together on the surface of the table, using the casual gesture to mask her nervousness. She knew exactly why Ru Shan was away. He had used the ruse of visiting his ailing father.

‘Are you afraid I’ll escape, Governor Li? I would lose myself in this bamboo sea before I found the road.’

‘You shouldn’t be left alone. Not after what happened.’

What happened? ‘I wasn’t in any danger from anyone besides you.’

He didn’t answer for a long stretch; she was afraid she’d been too bold.

‘Accept a peace offering, then,’ he said finally.

He lifted a bundle wrapped in canvas on to the table. She stared at him in surprise as he beckoned for her to open it. Theirs was the oddest of acquaintances. She couldn’t decipher what Li Tao was to her. Adversary, protector, companion. Madman.

Perhaps she was mad as well. Why else would she be tempted to accept the tainted protection he offered? She could hide away in the cover of the bamboo forest.

Her message to the Emperor was already travelling toward the capital. Even if Li Tao wasn’t so unpredictable, she couldn’t stay. When Emperor Shen came for him, she could be implicated as a co-conspirator even though she had been brought there against her will. Or worse, they would come with swords and arrows with no pause to sort out who was who.

She reached for the bindings, but hesitated, remembering another package she’d opened in his presence.

‘It’s not a trap,’ he replied when she looked to him.

The image of the fifteen daggers haunted her. She was afraid to ask about the strange delivery, as if the mystery would hold her captive if she uncovered it.

She untied the knots while Li Tao leaned back to watch her. His offering was somewhat awkward given the circumstances, yet oddly earnest because of it. The canvas peeled away to reveal a lacquered case inlaid with abalone shell. She gasped when she lifted the lid and saw the musical instrument inside. The arrangement of the silk strings over wooden bridges sent a flutter of delight through her. She’d left her qin by the river with the rest of her abandoned belongings.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘The instrument maker told me this was his finest work,’ Li Tao said. ‘But I have no eye for such things.’

She ran her fingers over the polished surface board, teasing the strings. The clear notes rose in the air with a sense of freedom.

‘You’re glowing.’ His tone held its own hint of pleasure.

She looked to him and wished that she hadn’t seen the quiet satisfaction in his eyes. He was focused on her. Always on her.

‘Did you ever hear me play, Governor?’

‘I never had that honour.’

‘Madame Ling taught me. She taught me everything.’ She lifted the instrument from its case and set it carefully on to the carved legs. ‘In Luoyang, I would play in the front room for an hour each night,’ she said, bubbling with excitement as she adjusted the tuning knobs. ‘Only one hour, nothing more. I would close my eyes and play and all of those men would fall madly in love with me.’

His mouth curved the tiniest bit upwards. ‘Every single one?’

‘Every single one.’

In the entertainment district of Luoyang, she would sit behind a sheer curtain to build an aura of mystery. Wealthy patrons struggled to catch a glimpse of her through the gauze. Some would offer to pay for just a look.

Unless the offer was exorbitantly high, Madame usually refused, laughing at her own cleverness. ‘The picture of you they have formed in their minds is more beautiful than you could ever be.’

Her parents had forfeited her in name and body, thinking she would be betrothed to some merchant. They hadn’t known the well-dressed servants were actually kidnappers who supplied the entertainment quarters. Her den mother, Madame Ling, had given her the surname that would later become known throughout the empire.

Li Tao settled comfortably in his seat as she positioned her fingers over the strings. Suyin attached the ivory guards over her fingers and plucked out three notes, letting herself sink into the sound and vibration.

‘What song would you like to hear?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know any.’

The way he watched her made her heart ache with anticipation. He folded his hands before him, his demeanor relaxed and indulgent for once. The intimacy of the moment struck her—to be playing for him for pleasure with nothing between them. No curtain and none of the artifice of Luoyang.

Except there would always be deception between them. She was plotting her escape and he was looking for some way to use her.

‘You’ll like this one,’ she promised. She looked down to the strings as if that was enough hide the lies. ‘It’s about a battle.’

Lady Ling had the most exquisite hands. They moved in waves over the strings, one hand pulling at the silk strings to test them, the other adjusting the wooden bridges. The scattered notes floated through the air, not yet forming music. Her expression took on a tranquil look. She tilted her head to listen to nuances of tone that were beyond his ears. Maybe that was how she read people so well, catching the subtle meanings hidden in voice and inflection.

Finally she straightened her shoulders and poised her fingers over the span of the strings. She inhaled, gathering herself, and began to play.

The legend was that Ling Guifei had charmed the August Emperor with her music. She commanded the universe when she played, the trees and the stars. That part was poetic nonsense, but the music pulled at him inside and out. The rhythm sent his blood rushing through his veins.

She played with her eyes closed. He closed his own eyes, joining her in the darkness. She had said the song depicted a battle, but nothing of the sort came to mind, no lofty images of horses and banners waving or battalions clashing over hills. Only darkness and a pure sound that filled him, creeping into spaces he hadn’t known were empty.

Desire flooded his body, the dull throb building to an acute pain that would not let go. His hand tightened on the arm of the chair.

Ling Suyin was exactly the sort of person Lao Sou would have recruited: talented, resourceful and cunning. He wanted her regardless—the warmth of her skin, the reluctant willingness of her mouth. He even wanted her detachment and her defiance. Would the Old Man have predicted that as well?

As the final notes struck, he opened his eyes.

‘Did you enjoy it?’ She played on. The second song flowed over his mind like cool water, but did nothing to ease the ache in his body.

‘You play well.’

‘Such ardent praise,’ she reprimanded lightly. Her fingers continued to walk along the strings gently.

‘Don’t you tire of compliments? Look at Jun over there. He won’t blink for fear of losing the sight of you.’

She laughed and the sound puffed up his chest. At the other end of the courtyard, Jun slinked further behind the shrubbery, realising he had been caught. Li Tao couldn’t fault the boy. Greater men had found themselves helpless at this woman’s feet. The music lulled him into the first sense of peace he had allowed himself in long time. He wanted to sink into the dream and accept where it took him.

‘Where do you go every day?’ she asked in a tone of disinterest.

‘Nowhere you would find entertaining.’

This must be how she was able to pry secrets from the most powerful men in the empire. He had no skill for filling silence with conversation, but he found himself wanting to do so. To reciprocate the moment she had created.

‘I received another imperial summons to appear before Emperor Shen in Changan,’ he stated. Nothing secret about that, it being an imperial proclamation.

The gentle music faltered before continuing. The notes took on a hint of shrillness beneath the soft warmth.

‘Then you must go and make peace with Emperor Shen.’ Suyin stared down at the instrument.

Was that concern he detected?

‘Once they have me in Changan, it’ll be the death of me.’

‘If you don’t go, they’ll hang you as a traitor.’

‘They behead traitors, Ling Guifei,’ he replied mildly.

She flattened the strings with her hand to stop the sound. ‘Why do you insist on calling me that?’

‘To remind myself that you are not mine.’

Silence hung between them.

‘But you don’t want me,’ she said, her tone cutting. ‘Other than for one night.’

‘One night can last a very long time.’

The blush in her cheeks caught him off guard. He had assumed such flirtation was second nature to a seasoned courtesan.

‘I don’t wish to see you hanged … or beheaded.’

‘Not without a fight,’ he promised.

‘War and death. That’s all men like you know.’ She pushed the instrument aside and sank back as if it no longer held any joy for her.

‘This summons is an ambush. The imperial court has all the power in Changan. I’ll face whoever comes for me here, on my own terms.’

Suyin fell silent. She tapped her fingertips thoughtfully against the tabletop as she struggled with her next words.

‘Please reconsider,’ she said finally.

‘There’s nothing to consider. Gao has the court in his palm,’ he said.

She made an impatient sound. ‘I told Auntie you wouldn’t listen to anyone.’

That left them at a standstill, staring at each other across the field of battle. But she wasn’t quite the enemy. He traced the shape of her mouth and the curve of her throat. Suyin’s breathing quickened in response. No one else dared to suggest that he back down. Certainly no one had counselled him regarding his own welfare.

She was beautiful.

She was complicated.

There wasn’t a thread of trust between them, yet he still wanted her. Discipline and caution meant nothing when she was near.

‘Tell me one thing,’ she said. ‘What does the dagger mean?’

‘It’s a reminder.’

‘Of what?’

‘Shibao.’

‘The siege against Tibet.’

Of course she knew the history. She had been Emperor Li Ming’s consort for fifteen years. She’d shared the sovereign’s bed. Resentment flowed like poison through Li Tao’s veins. Jealous of a dead man. There wasn’t a more worthless emotion.

‘One of the worst defeats of the empire,’ he said.

‘But you were commended for your bravery. Everyone knew your name after that battle.’

‘It was undeserved.’ He wasn’t being humble. If she meant to appeal to his sense of honour and duty, it didn’t exist. ‘In the end, all debts must be paid. The message of the dagger is that no one can be careful for ever.’

If only she knew the truth behind the legends. He was no hero. He was tempted to tell her everything, but with the old empire falling to ruin around them, it made no difference any longer.

Chapter Six

Shibao, Tibet—ad 745 14 years earlier

Facing death on the battlefield was different from facing death in the dingy corners of the city. In battle, the sheer crush of bodies made survival unpredictable. Skill meant nothing in the thick of it. Planning, valour, strength … nothing. That was what made this task all the more challenging. He could come out alive or he could succeed in his mission. One or the other, but not both.

By now, Li Tao knew what the eve of battle felt like, knew the taste of it in the air. He’d been inserted into the growing forces of the imperial army for the last five years. In his first battle, he hadn’t even been issued a sword, but the Emperor’s continued excursions into foreign lands to gain territory had given Li Tao plenty of opportunity to climb the ranks. Today, he lined up shoulder to shoulder among the first battalion, stationed near the dragon banner on the fields of Shibao. In the distance, the flags of the Tibetan kingdom waved in challenge.

The August Emperor himself walked the line. This was no fattened monarch who watched over the battle from a hilltop in the distance. The Emperor would ride where the battle was thickest, urging men forwards with his will. To all who witnessed it, he was truly invincible, the Son of Heaven.

Li Tao had to admit the Emperor was a natural leader of men. He was at his best amidst the stamp of horses’ hooves and the clash of swords. His detractors scorned that he was far more comfortable on a saddle than on the throne. Several attempts on his life had been made in the imperial palace, but all had failed. His death today would be a kindness, a warrior’s death.

Like every other man, Li Tao bowed low as the Emperor passed by. Inexplicably, the Emperor halted. His face displayed weary lines from sleeping in the same tents as his men and eating by the same cooking fires. The studded bands of his armour were dulled with dust and blood.

‘What is your name, swordsman?’

He straightened. ‘Li Tao, Imperial Majesty.’

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