Reminded of the time Genyou had opened up about his past, the spy gazed wistfully at the fire. “The targets of his vengeance were the sorcerer, the former emperor who sent the assassin, and the princes who put the idea in his head. Everyone except the sorcerer is already dead.”
Gyoumei gulped at the implication. “Did Father kill them all? Both the former emperor and the Ten Stars?”
“Hard to say. I did witness him stand by and watch the former emperor die of poison, at least.” After oh-so-casually dropping that shocking reveal, Akim returned to the previous topic. “The important part is that he hates the assassin the most out of everyone involved, and that’s the one person he hasn’t caught: the blind, body-swapping sorcerer who has yet to return Prince Gomei’s body.”
“Excuse me,” Keigetsu spoke up in a quivering voice. “Do you think His Majesty suspects that I’m the sorcerer he’s looking for?”
“Not a chance. His Majesty has captured and questioned a good number of cultivators, so he’s pretty knowledgeable about the Daoist arts. According to what he’s learned, it’s not possible to stack body-swapping spells. The sorcerer should still be stuck in Prince Gomei’s form.” Akim’s voice darkened as he went on, “But it’s easier for the soul to depart the body on the Day of Ultimate Yin, so he might take that opportunity to jump ship.”
And if he did, it would become that much harder to track down the sorcerer. Akim muttered under his breath that there wasn’t much time left.
“Oh, that makes sense,” said Keigetsu, looking relieved.
“How so, Lady Keigetsu?” asked Reirin, who was significantly less familiar with the workings of magic. “If he were truly desperate to escape, why wait twenty-five years? What’s stopping him from moving from one living body to the next?”
“A body-swapping spell takes a huge amount of qi, so unless some very specific requirements are met, it can only be used in the caster’s original vessel. Returning to your own body is simple enough, but the spell will run out of control if you switch from one stranger’s body to another. The one exception is if you do it on the Day of Ultimate Yin, when the soul is known to separate from the body. It becomes much easier to project the spirit.”
Reirin nodded and counted off the points on her fingers, processing the information piece by piece. “I see. And the sorcerer doesn’t have the option of temporarily returning to his own vessel, as it expired with Prince Gomei’s soul still inside. This leaves him no choice but to live on in the prince’s body. All his hopes are riding on the Day of Ultimate Yin, when the balance of yin and yang will be disrupted.” She tilted her head to one side, incredulous. “If His Majesty knows for a fact that Lady Keigetsu isn’t the sorcerer in question, why would he go after her?”
“Because it’s pretty rare to find a sorcerer who can use a body-swapping spell.” Akim narrowed his eyes at Keigetsu from across the bonfire, his gaze feline. “That spell is apparently so advanced that only a sect elder can hope to master it. You and that sorcerer are just about the only ones who know it. Emperor Genyou figures you might be either master and disciple or fellow students.”
Keigetsu shot to her feet in indignation. “But we’re not! I don’t even belong to a sect! I taught myself using the texts my father left behind. Besides, every spell in existence is listed in the introductory books! Anyone can do it once they wrap their head around the basic principles!”
The others gaped at her in surprise.
Reirin said, “Lady Keigetsu, that’s exactly the sort of thing a natural would say…”
“Seems like a classic case of someone not realizing their own exceptional talent because they weren’t taught in a group,” Keishou chimed in.
“Did we stumble upon a prodigy in the wild?” said Keikou. “Neat!”
When Keigetsu noticed the Kou siblings staring at her with a touch too much excitement, she went red in the face and resorted to yelling. “Well, there’s no point having a gift that just gets me persecuted!”
“Whatever the case,” Gyoumei interjected, steering them back on track and giving Keigetsu a pointed look to sit down, “Father is not under the impression that Shu Keigetsu is the sorcerer he’s looking for. He is only targeting her as a potential key informant. In that case, there’s no pressing reason for him to execute her.”
No sooner had they seen a glimmer of hope than Akim dashed it with a wave of his hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. For who-knows-how-many years, he’s captured cultivators on the sly, tortured them, wrung out all the information he could, and put them down after confirming they had nothing to do with our favorite sorcerer. He’s got no reason to kill uninvolved cultivators, but he’s got no reason to keep ’em alive either.”
The group was torn between groaning, casting desperate glances to the sky, and rubbing their temples.
“Why must the Gen be so difficult?” Reirin muttered.
“As one of their descendants, allow me to apologize on behalf of the clan,” said Gyoumei. Shin-u and Tousetsu, who also had Gen heritage, hung their heads and said nothing.
“What do we do, then?! I’ll be executed regardless of my relationship to that sorcerer!”
Just as Keigetsu was poised to bite her nails in frustration, Keishou reached out to stop her. “Hey, calm down. You’ll be executed on the spot if you have anything to do with that sorcerer—that much isn’t up for debate. But if you don’t have a connection to him, His Majesty will keep you alive as long as you have valuable information to share. All we need to do is prolong that period.”
“But that’s…”
The two Maidens objected in unison.
“…not possible!”
“…not enough!”
Once each had said their piece, they exchanged confused glances.
“What are you talking about, Kou Reirin? His Majesty already knows the ins and outs of the Daoist arts. What kind of information could possibly give me leverage over him?”
“You are a magical prodigy, so I’m not concerned about that. However, I hate the idea of groveling for mercy after we’ve gone to the trouble of aiding His Majesty with his revenge.”
Reirin’s adorable pout was at odds with the incredibly audacious words leaving her mouth.
Keigetsu’s face twitched. “Oh, come on! You forgave the people of Unso for kidnapping you and Gen Kasui for sticking you down a well! Why are you being so antagonistic toward the supreme ruler of our kingdom?!”
“My, the answer is quite simple.” Reirin tilted her head to one side. “The difference lies in whether they involved my loved ones.”
Unran had been oppressed as an untouchable, and Kasui had been kept from her revenge and driven to her breaking point. Both had writhed in the throes of their own powerlessness, and Reirin could relate due to her struggles with her own poor health.
By the same logic, she ought to have sympathized with Genyou, but he had been granted the ultimate authority on the continent, only to turn around and use it to persecute her friend. And not just in the heat of the moment; if they didn’t take steps to stop him, Keigetsu’s life would be forever in jeopardy. She wasn’t about to let him off without consequences.
The ideal Maiden was empathetic and compassionate to all, but now that Reirin had developed a budding sense of likes and dislikes, she was learning to assign a priority to things. Some might view that as a descent into villainy, but Reirin was rather fond of this new version of herself.
“Why must you seek His Majesty’s permission just to live? You have things to teach him about the Daoist arts, so if anything, he ought to be singing your praises in gratitude. Isn’t there some way we could teach him the proper order of things?” Reirin pressed a hand to her cheek with a sigh.
“How can you say that without a hint of shame?!” Keigetsu yelled, aghast. “I’m the one who should be begging for mercy here!”
The fearless butterfly only blinked, as though she found this a bewildering assertion. “Goodness, Lady Keigetsu, you mustn’t think that you deserve to be persecuted. Although some Daoist spells may indeed be taboo, your magic has brought people salvation on numerous occasions.”
“It has?”
“Yes. To me, to the people of Unso, and to Lady Kasui. Your magic brings about miracles and rescues others from despair.”
Keigetsu assumed a blank stare, and Reirin looked her straight in the eye. The flames of the bonfire popped and crackled, casting a bright, powerful light on her profile.
“Your flames are beautiful, Lady Keigetsu. My beloved comet is no harbinger of the kingdom’s end—she is a good omen that brings happiness to the people,” declared Reirin, alluding to how the comet had changed from a symbol of bad fortune to good over the past century. Not a hint of hesitation could be heard in her voice.
Lost as to how to respond, Keigetsu pressed her lips into a tight line. It was the only way to keep her throat from locking up. “Th-that’s ridiculous,” was all she managed to squeeze out.
There is something seriously wrong with this woman, Keigetsu thought. Reirin was none other than the future emperor’s betrothed, yet she would say things that defied common sense without batting an eye, and with those causal assertions, she could irrevocably paint over the canvas of a person’s heart.
So many memories made Keigetsu’s chest tight just to think about: The dirty looks from those who had scorned her as the daughter of a cultivator. The dark storage shed where her mother had always locked her away. The textbooks she had studied all on her own. Noble Consort Shu’s attempts to exploit her magic. The sneers from the court ladies who had deemed her a talentless mediocrity. Her reflection glaring at her in the mirror, resentful of those underwhelming looks.