Chapter Six

Penglai Island, China

September 2010

Step, thrust, sweep, turn.

“Again.”

Baojia mirrored her movements, guiding her in the steps of the drill as she worked the jian. It already felt natural; the light balance of the old sword allowed her to move through the complicated routine with ease. It was as if some long ago muscle memory had been awakened.

Step, thrust, sweep, turn.

“Again.”

She realized about halfway through the lesson that Baojia had switched to giving commands in Chinese, but by then, his instructions were so predictable that she hadn’t even noticed. They moved in concert, both wearing the loose black pants and shirts that Tenzin had provided for them. Beatrice may not have liked most of the bland food that the palace provided, but she really liked the feeling of going through the day in what felt a lot like pajamas.

“Stop after this series and watch.”

She finished the last turn and moved to the benches to watch him. Baojia was not an ordinarily eye-catching figure. His even features were handsome, but not striking. He spoke even less than Giovanni did, but she had discovered that when he did, he had a dry humor that put her at ease.

It wasn’t until he moved that her eyes were drawn to him. If she hadn’t been studying martial arts for years, he might have made it look easy. But Beatrice could detect the iron control and carefully restrained ferocity of the vampire. No matter what move he made, he looked smooth, effortless, as if the complicated sequences he performed came as naturally to him as breathing did to her.

He had picked up the shorter curved saber Tenzin used earlier and was going through the basic movements when his eyes darted to the door. A few moments later, she heard Nima quietly enter the room, and the two had a quick exchange before Baojia returned the sword to its place on the wall and walked to her, his face unreadable and his gaze distant.

“What’s going on?”

“Come with me.”

“What’s going on?” she asked again, standing when he held out a hand. He pulled her up and stepped close. Beatrice suddenly realized that he was not much taller than she was, and she only had to glance up to meet his dark stare. She could see the barely concealed tension in his face, and for a second, she felt as if she could not breathe.

“Baojia… what’s going on?”

“There is”—he hesitated—“a new guest in the Great Hall. Tenzin has requested our presence.”

“Who—”

“No more questions.” He hooked her arm with his own and shuffled her toward the doors, grabbing a red robe hanging by the door.

“Maybe you don’t know this about me, but I really don’t like being kept in the dark,” she said as she pulled on the silk robe.

He snorted. “Maybe you don’t know this about me, but I don’t really care.”

“Would Ernesto care?”

Baojia chuckled bitterly. “I am very clear on what my father wants from me, Beatrice De Novo. Why don’t you spend a little time worrying about your own father?”

“My own…” She fell silent as a sick feeling began to churn in her gut. “Where’s Gio?”

“With Tenzin in the hall.”

They left Tenzin’s wing of the palace and strode across the grounds, Baojia almost dragging her behind him. As they climbed the steps, she could already hear Tenzin’s stream of angry words pouring out of the hall, though she had no idea what her friend was yelling.

Beatrice knew not to open her mouth. She simply followed along, her fists clenched at her sides as Baojia ushered her into the opulent room with a hand at her back, his quick eyes sweeping the room.

Beatrice spotted Giovanni’s tall figure immediately. He stood at attention at the foot of Zhang’s throne, his gaze flickering over the crowd that had gathered toward the center of the room. She saw him glance at her, nod, then he locked his gaze with Baojia and tilted his head toward the left side of the hall, where Beatrice noticed some of the humans and vampires in Zhang’s retinue had gathered. She couldn’t see Tenzin, but she could hear the woman arguing in Mandarin from the center of the mass of vampires.

They picked their way through the crowd, and Beatrice was glad that her dark hair and short stature allowed her to blend in far better than Giovanni’s striking figure. They stopped about ten feet away, their backs to a large green column, and Baojia seemed to relax slightly at her side.

“Where’s my dad?” she whispered.

Baojia leaned over to murmur in her ear. “He’s in the crowd with Tenzin. I can hear him.”

“Can you translate for me? What’s going on?”

He sighed, and she could tell he didn’t want to do it, but he continued leaning over, translating as the argument progressed.

“Tenzin says, ‘You’ve always been needlessly worried about me. I have no interest in your throne…’ and she calls him a foul name.”

“Who?”

“Zhongli Quan.”

“The other head guy? The one below Lu?”

“Some may say so. He is a wind vampire, like Tenzin. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“There are only two of each element on the council.”

‘No interest in your throne…’ “Oh, he thinks Tenzin wants to take his place or something?”

He only cocked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head back toward the crowd.

“Zhongli responds that Zhang may invite his guests without fear of them coming to harm, and he may do so, as well.”