I thought I was saving her, but she had helped me get away, careless of her own safety. Had she escaped? Was my mother safe? Was I? My breaths came short and fast—I was drowning, struggling for air. Immortals did not suffer from illnesses or old age, but we could still be hurt by the weapons, creatures, and magic of our realm. Fool that I was, I never imagined such dangers would touch us. And now . . . I curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around my knees, a thin, keening wail slipping from me like that of a wounded animal. Stupid, I cursed myself again and again for bringing this upon us, until at last I clamped my lips shut to muffle the sounds.
I did not know how long I lay there, my throat racked raw with swallowed grief. And yes, I feared for myself, too, as thoughts of cruel soldiers and vicious beasts crowded my mind. Who knew what lurked in the dark? I was unraveling, a tangled wreck, but then a beam of light fell across me. Lifting my head, I stared at the moon—the first time I had seen it from afar. Beautiful and luminous, and comforting, too. I breathed easier, finding solace in the thought that as long as the moon rose each night, I would know my mother had lit the lanterns and was well. A memory crept into my mind, of her walking through the forest, her white robe gleaming in the dark. My bruised heart cramped with longing, but I steeled myself against sinking into the abyss of self-pity again.
Bright flickers from below caught my eye, shimmering lights dancing within their inky depths. Were these the ones I had glimpsed from above? Only then did I realize the ground was like a mirror, a reflection of the stars weaving across the night. Their unfamiliar beauty seared me, a stark reminder that I was no longer home. I slumped back down, clasping my arms across my body. Staring at the moon until my pain subsided and I finally fell into a dreamless sleep on the cold, hard ground.
Someone was patting my arm. Was it my mother? Had all this been a terrible dream? Hope flared, shattering the haze of slumber. My eyes opened, blinking in the brightness of day. The swirling lights had vanished and reflected in their place were the rosy clouds of dawn.
A woman crouched beside me, a basket by her side. Her hand, which rested on my elbow, was as warm and dry as the surface of a paper lantern.
“Why are you sleeping here?” She frowned. “Are you all right?”
I lurched up, suppressing a gasp from the ache in my back. I could barely manage a nod to her question, numb from the memories which crashed over me.
“Be careful here. You should go home. I heard there was some disturbance last night and soldiers are patrolling the area.” She picked up her basket, rising to her feet.
My insides knotted. Disturbance? Soldiers? “Wait!” I cried, unsure of what to say, yet not wanting to be left alone. “What happened?”
“Some creature broke through the wards. The guards gave chase.” She shuddered. “We’ve had fox spirits in recent years. Though I heard this might have been a Demon, trying to snatch Celestial children for their evil arts.”
One of those monsters from the Demon Realm? It hit me, then, that it was I the guards were searching for. That I was the supposed Demon. I would have laughed aloud had I not been stricken with fear. Ping’er must not have been aware of the wards. “Did they catch anyone?” My voice came out feeble and thin.
“Not yet, but don’t worry. Our soldiers are the finest in the realm. They’ll capture the intruder in no time.” She gave me a reassuring smile, before asking, “What are you doing here at this hour?”
I sagged with relief. Ping’er had gotten away! Yet I must have lain here for hours and she had not come back. That gale which had burst through the skies, sending her soaring away—did it take her too far?
A thought nudged me. Had that power, somehow, come from me? Could I do such a thing again? No, how ridiculous to think so. Besides, nothing good had come of my magic so far, and I could not risk drawing any attention to myself. I started, realizing the woman was staring at me, her earlier question left unanswered. She did not suspect me because she expected some fearsome beast or fiend, but I dared not give her any reason to doubt me now.
“I have nowhere to go. I . . . I was dismissed from the household I worked in. I fell, and fainted.” My words were clumsy, my tone halting. My tongue unused to uttering such brazen lies.
Her face softened. Perhaps she sensed my misery, spilling from me like a river swollen with rain. “By the Four Seas, some of these nobles are so ill-tempered and selfish. There now, it isn’t so bad. You’ll soon find another place.” She cocked her head to one side. “I work at the Golden Lotus Mansion. I hear the Young Mistress is looking for another attendant, if you’re in need of a position.”
Her kindness was a warmth in the winter of my misery. My mind raced. Wandering alone by myself would surely arouse suspicion. I wasn’t sure how I could think of such mundane things, but something hardened inside me. Grief was a luxury I could ill afford after wallowing in it half the night. If I fell apart now, it would all have been for nothing. I would find a place here and somehow, I would make my way home—whether it took me a year, a decade, or a century.
“Thank you. I’m grateful for your kindness.” I bent from my waist in a graceless bow, as we never stood on such ceremony at home. It seemed to please her as she smiled, motioning for me to follow her.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, past a grove of bamboo trees and across a gray stone bridge that arched over a river, before arriving at the gates of a large estate. A black lacquered plaque was displayed just below the roof of the entrance, gilded with the characters:
金莲府
Golden Lotus Mansion
It was a sprawling estate, a cluster of interlinked halls and spacious courtyards. Red columns held up curved roofs of midnight blue tiles. Lotus flowers floated upon the ponds, their fragrance heady and sweet. I followed the woman through long corridors lit by rosewood lanterns, until we reached a large building. Leaving me by the doorway, she approached a ruddy-faced man and spoke to him. He nodded once, before coming toward me. I stood straighter, instinctively smoothing out the creases in my robe.
“Ah, this is well timed!” he exclaimed. “Our Young Mistress, Lady Meiling, admonished me just last night for not having found her a replacement. Although one wonders why she can’t make do with three attendants,” he muttered, as he fixed me with an appraising stare. “Have you served in a large household before? What are your skills?”
I swallowed hard, thinking of my home. I had not been idle, helping out whenever I could. “Not as large as this one,” I finally ventured. “I would be grateful for any position you can offer. I can cook, clean, play music, and read.” My skills were far from impressive, but my answer seemed to satisfy him.
The next few days were spent learning my tasks, from how to brew Lady Meiling’s tea to her liking, to preparing her favorite almond cakes, and caring for her garments—some adorned with such exquisite embroideries they seemed to quiver beneath my touch. Other duties included polishing the furniture, washing the bedding, and tending to the gardens. I was kept on my feet from dawn till night, maybe because I had no powers to speak of that might have eased my chores.
It was the rules here which chafed more than the labor: dictating the depth of my bows, requiring me to hold my tongue until spoken to, to never sit in my mistress’s presence, to obey her every command without hesitation. Each rule ground my pride a little more into the dirt, widening the gulf between mistress and servant—a constant reminder of the inferiority of my position, and the fact I was no longer home.