The Dragon and the Pearl

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.