‘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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