Chapter 5 — The Secret the Empress Dowager Concealed

My mother stepped toward the heavy door of our cell, her voice ringing out, cold and sharp. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer. The royal guard who had been standing watch moments before lay sprawled motionless on the floor, his fate uncertain. Beyond the threshold, the corridor remained unnervingly silent. My father spoke in a hushed tone, "They arrived faster than I anticipated." I turned to look at him.

"Did you anticipate that someone would come to the dungeons to execute us?"

"I had considered the possibility."

"Then why did you force us to come here?"

My father answered with chilling logic. "If we had not come here, we would already be corpses at the execution grounds."

I could find no rebuttal for that. The boy, Xie Wencheng, crouched down to examine the fallen guard. "He is still breathing."

I let out a shaky breath of relief. But in the next heartbeat, the torches deep within the dungeon flickered and died one by one. Darkness flooded the space like a rising tide. Xie Xiaoman started to shriek, but I clamped a hand over her mouth. My father shoved us back into the corner.

"Listen to me," he commanded, his voice low and urgent. "When they rush in, Ming Duong, you hide behind the water crock. Mother, shield Xiaoman. Wencheng, stay exactly where you are."

Xie Wencheng immediately protested, "Then what will I do?" My father stared at him.

"If you truly wish to be useful, then scream."

"Scream what?"

"Call for the rescue of the Sovereign."

Xie Wencheng froze. "But the Emperor is not here."

My father let out a cold, humorless laugh. "The assassins do not know that."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He was right. In the ink-black darkness of the dungeon, the killers knew only that the Emperor had ordered the Xie family held under tight security; they could not be certain if he was here in person to preside over the interrogation. If we cried out for the Emperor, the genuine royal guards patrolling the outer perimeters would be forced to charge in. Xie Wencheng’s eyes brightened.

"I understand!"

My father nodded. "If you understand, then make it convincing."

Xie Wencheng drew a deep, ragged breath. From the far end of the corridor, the sound of iron chains dragging against stone echoed—once, then again. Someone was picking the lock. My mother snatched up a broken water dipper from the floor. Xie Xiaoman grabbed a fistful of dry straw. I stared at her.

"What are you doing with that straw?"

The girl trembled. "I am going to throw it in his eyes to blind him." It was absurd, yet in that moment, it felt like a perfectly sound strategy. The lock clicked open. The cell door creaked inward. Through the gloom, a figure dressed as a jailer stepped inside. He did not speak, but the short blade in his hand glinted with a lethal, silver light. Suddenly, Xie Wencheng threw his head back and shrieked, "Assassins! Save the Emperor! Save the Emperor!"

His voice was high and shrill, like a frantic rooster in the palace courtyards. The assassin faltered, his movements momentarily stunted. That was the only opening my mother needed. She lunged forward, the broken dipper crashing into the killer’s face. A sickening thud followed. The man’s head snapped to the side. Xiaoman followed through by hurling her handful of straw. It did not blind him, but it showered my father’s head in debris. My father paused for a split second, an unreadable expression on his face. The assassin lashed out with his blade. My father kicked a heavy wooden bucket toward the man and dove into the fray, his hair wild with stray straw. The two collided; the cell was far too cramped for a proper duel. The blade struck the stone wall, sending a shower of sparks flying. I was shoved behind the water crock, my palms slick with cold sweat. At that moment, another shadow flickered into the room. A second killer. He lunged directly at me. Xiaoman screamed. I had no room to retreat, so I snatched a shard of pottery from the wall and slashed it fiercely across the man’s wrist. He let out a choked groan, and his blade clattered to the floor. I grabbed the weapon and, with a trembling hand, pressed the edge against his throat. My hand shook violently, but I did not pull back. He stared at me, and in his eyes, I caught a flicker of raw astonishment. I ground my teeth.

"Who sent you?"

The man suddenly broke into a smile. "You truly are so much like her."

My heart gave a painful, violent contraction. "Like whom?"

He did not answer. Outside, the sound of heavy boots thundering toward us broke the tension. Xie Wencheng was still shouting, "Save the Emperor! The Sovereign is being assassinated! If you do not hurry, the throne will be lost!"

Even in the heat of battle, my father found the breath to scold him. "Stop adding your own embellishments!"

The footsteps grew closer. A cruel, resolute light flared in the assassin’s eyes, and he suddenly lunged forward. The tip of my blade sank into his throat. Warm blood sprayed across the back of my hand. I went rigid. He had committed suicide. The remaining assassin realized the tide had turned; he shoved my father aside and bolted toward the exit. My father moved to give chase, but the corridor was suddenly bathed in the brilliant light of torches. The Royal Guard swarmed in. The man at the lead wore dark, dragon-patterned robes, his gaze as frigid as winter frost. I recognized him immediately: Xiao Zhi, the Prince Regent. The youngest brother of the late Emperor and uncle to the current Sovereign. Every soul in the capital knew that he held half the military power in the realm, and his temperament was said to be sharper than any steel. Xiao Zhi swept a glance over the chaotic scene, his eyes finally settling on my face. I was still clutching the blood-stained blade. He stared at me for a long moment.

"Xie Ming Duong?"

I nodded. "I am."

He took a step forward. My fingers tightened instinctively around the hilt. Xiao Zhi leaned down, plucking a black token from the dead assassin’s sleeve. On the reverse side, an image of a bird in flight was carved into the metal. The Phoenix Dance. His expression darkened in an instant. My father, catching sight of the token, lost his composure entirely. Xiao Zhi lifted his gaze to mine.

"These people were not here to kill you."

My throat felt parched and raw. "Then who were they here for?"

He flipped the token over to show me the truth.