‘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
