The Dragon Republic. R.F. Kuang
well and pushed hard at the cover, bracing her feet against the stone floor. The cover slid off with a loud screech. She straightened and brushed her hands on her uniform. “Follow me.”
Rin crawled after Daji into the well, which had a set of narrow, spiraling steps built into its wall. Daji reached up and slid the stone closed over them, leaving them standing in pitch darkness. Icy fingers wrapped around Rin’s hand. She jumped, but Daji only tightened her grip.
“It’s easy to get lost if you’ve never been here before.” Daji’s voice echoed around the chamber. “Stay close.”
Rin tried to keep count of how many turns they had taken—fifteen, sixteen—but soon enough she lost track of where they were, even in her carefully memorized mental map. How far were they from the council room? Would she have to ignite in the tunnels?
After several more minutes of walking, they resurfaced into a garden. The sudden burst of color was disorienting. Rin peered, blinking, at the resplendent array of lilies, chrysanthemums, and plum trees planted in clusters around rows upon rows of sculptures.
This wasn’t the Imperial Garden—the layout of the walls didn’t match. The Imperial Garden was shaped in a circle; this garden was erected inside a hexagon. This was a private courtyard.
This hadn’t been on the map. Rin had no clue where she was.
Her eyes flickered frantically around her surroundings, seeking out possible exit routes, mapping out useful trajectories and planes of motion for the impending fight, making note of objects that could be weaponized if she couldn’t get the fire back in time. Those saplings looked fragile—she might break a branch off for a club if she got desperate. Best if she could back Daji up against the far wall. If nothing else, she could use those loose cobblestones to smash the Empress’s head in.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Rin realized Daji was waiting for her to say something.
If she engaged Daji in conversation, she’d be walking headfirst into a trap. Vaisra and Eriden had warned her many times how easily Daji would manipulate, could plant thoughts in her mind that weren’t her own.
But Daji would grow bored of talking if Rin stayed silent. And Daji’s interest in playing with her food was the only thing buying Rin time. Rin needed to keep the conversation going until she had the fire back.
“I guess,” she said. “I’m not one for aesthetics.”
“Of course you’re not. You got your education at Sinegard. They’re all crude utilitarians.” Daji put her hands on Rin’s shoulders and slowly turned her about the garden. “Tell me something. Does the palace look new to you?”
Rin glanced around the hexagon. Yes, it had to be new. The lustrous buildings of the Autumn Palace, though designed with the architecture of the Red Emperor, did not bear the stains of time. The stones were smooth and unscratched, the wooden posts gleaming with fresh paint.
“I suppose,” she said. “Is it not?”
“Follow me.” Daji walked toward a small gate built into the far wall, pushed it open, and motioned for Rin to follow her through.
The other side of the garden looked like it had been smashed under a giant’s heel. The midsection of the opposite wall was in pieces, as if it had been blown apart by cannon fire. Statues were strewn across the overgrown grass, limbs shattered, lying at grotesque and awkward angles.
This wasn’t natural decay. Wasn’t the result of failure to keep the grounds. This had to be the deliberate action of an invading force.
“I thought the Federation never reached Lusan,” Rin said.
“This wasn’t the Federation,” Daji said. “This wreckage has been here for over seventy years.”
“Then who …?”
“The Hesperians. History likes to focus on the Federation, but the masters at Sinegard always gloss over the first colonizers. No one remembers who started the First Poppy War.” Daji nudged a statue’s head with her foot. “One autumn day seventy years ago, a Hesperian admiral sailed up the Murui and blasted his way into Lusan. He pillaged the palace, razed it to the ground, poured oil over the wreckage, and danced in the ashes. By that evening the Autumn Palace had ceased to exist.”
“Then why haven’t you rebuilt the garden?” Rin’s eyes darted around the grounds while she spoke. A rake lay in the grass about half a yard from her feet. After all these years it was certainly blunt and covered in rust, but Rin might still use it as a staff.
“So we have the reminder,” Daji said. “To remember how we were humiliated. To remember that nothing good can come of dealing with the Hesperians.”
Rin couldn’t let her eyes linger on the rake. Daji would notice. She carefully reconstructed its position from memory. The sharp end was facing her. If she got close enough, she could kick it up into her grasp. Unless the grass had grown too long … but it was just grass; if she kicked hard it shouldn’t be a problem …
“The Hesperians have always intended to come back,” Daji said. “The Mugenese weakened this country using western silver. We remember the Federation as the face of the oppressor, but the Hesperians and Bolonians—the Consortium of western countries—are the ones with real power. They are who you ought to be afraid of.”
Rin moved just slightly so her left leg was positioned close enough to kick the rake up. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Daji said sharply. “I know what Vaisra intends to do. I know he intends to go to war. I’m trying to show you that it’s the wrong one.”
Rin’s pulse began to race. This was it—Daji knew her intentions, she needed to fight, it didn’t matter if she didn’t have the fire yet, she had to get to the rake—
“Stop that,” Daji ordered.
Rin’s limbs froze suddenly in place, muscles stiffening painfully as if the slightest movement might shatter them. She should be springing to fight. She should have at least crouched down. But somehow her body was arrested where she stood, as if she needed the Empress’s permission to even breathe.
“We are not finished talking,” said Daji.
“I’m finished listening,” Rin hissed through clenched teeth.
“Relax. I haven’t brought you here to kill you. You are an asset, one of the few I have left. It would be stupid to let you go.” Daji stepped in front of her so that they stood face-to-face. Rin hastily averted her eyes. “You’re fighting the wrong enemy, dear. Can’t you see it?”
Sweat beaded on Rin’s neck as she strained to break out of Daji’s hold.
“What did Vaisra promise you? You must know you’re being used. Is it worth it? Is it money? An estate? No … I don’t think you could be swayed by material promises.” Daji tapped her lacquered nails against painted lips. “No—don’t tell me you believe him, do you? Did he say he’d bring you a democracy? And you fell for it?”
“He said he’d depose you,” Rin whispered. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Do you really believe that?” Daji sighed. “What would you replace me with? The Nikara people aren’t ready for democracy. They’re sheep. They’re crude, uneducated fools. They need to be told what to do, even if that means tyranny. If Vaisra takes this nation then he’ll run it into the ground. The people don’t know what to vote for. They don’t even understand what it means to vote. And they certainly don’t know what’s good for them.”
“Neither do you,” Rin said. “You let them die in hordes. You invited the Mugenese in yourself and you traded them the Cike.”
To her surprise, Daji laughed. “Is that what you believe? You can’t trust everything you hear.”
“Shiro had no reason