Page 46 of The Blood Orchid
“Why?” I said. His panic was contagious, and my heart beat loud in my ears.
“A few years ago, she started branding peasants with her name in exchange for food,” he said, looking away as if this was his shame and not hers. “I thought it was just her vanity, thatshe wanted to show that she owned them. But maybe this was always her backup plan.”
I groaned, dropping my face to my knees.
Now that the prince had mentioned it, I remembered that campaign. The messengers had swept through Guangzhou wielding an iron brand and bags of rice. Uncle Fan and Auntie So had strictly forbidden us from participating, so I’d accepted a few more resurrection jobs than I otherwise might have, just to bury the guilt of not taking the food for such a small price. But many of our neighbors had no problem with it. They had suffered much worse than a small burn.
“She would still need an alchemist to activate the soul tags for her,” I said. “A soul tag without an alchemist is just a name.”
The prince shrugged. “I don’t know, Zilan,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” Then his expression darkened. “You need to get out of here.”
“What?” I said, drawing back.
“Check my body for marks,” he said, gripping my wrist. “I don’t think the Empress branded me, but you need to check. She’s clever, so she might have knocked me out, or done it while I was sleeping, or when I was very young.”
“If she could control your body, don’t you think she would have done it by now?”
“How do you know she hasn’t?” he said, eyes burning. “Zilango, please.”
I wanted to tell him that I knew my brother, that there was no way it was anyone but him, but his eyes were so panicked that I didn’t want to deny him.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be back.”
Then I turned away, my heart sinking the way it always did when I left Hong alone in the dark with no more than half-heartedgoodbyes and unfulfilled promises. With every visit, I felt that my own heart was decaying just as fast as his.
I buried the thought and opened my eyes, blinking until the brown fabric ceiling of our tent came into focus. I was back with Wenshu and Zheng Sili, camped in an empty stretch of land a few miles from Baiyin.
After buying two horses and enough fabric for a tent, we’d ridden as far from Baiyin as we could manage before falling off our horses from exhaustion. Wenshu and I had pitched a tent while Zheng Sili watched us and complained, still halfway drunk. I’d set a couple firestones burning on a flat rock, casting the tent in warm light. Durian had curled up close to the stone, fast asleep.
Wenshu sat up, cracking his neck. “Finally,” he said. “Took you long enough.”
Zheng Sili, who was already dozing off in the corner, grumbled at the movement.
“Gege,” I said, “we need to check everyone for soul tags. Starting with you.”
“I have a soul tag,” he said pointedly. “You know, the one that almost says Fan Wenhua because of your awful handwriting?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “You could have an inactive one.”
Wenshu looked exhausted and less than pleased with the suggestion, but he was a pragmatist if nothing else, and rolled up his sleeves to let me check. I checked all the usual spots for soul tags—the arms, the wrists, the back of the neck—but found nothing.
I leaned over and shoved Zheng Sili against the edge of the tent. He jolted awake, swiping out a hand to slap at me, which I easily dodged.
“Check each other for soul tags,” I said. “I’ll wait outside.”
“What?” Zheng Sili said, rubbing his eyes. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Because you’re both men?” I said, glancing at Wenshu, who looked at Zheng Sili like he was a pile of rotten fruit.
“Isn’t it your boyfriend’s body?” Zheng Sili said. “Shouldn’t you know whether or not he hasPROPERTY OF WU ZHAOburned into his skin?”
“How would I know that?”
Zheng Sili shot me an incredulous look. “Weren’t you a concubine?”
My face burned. “No!” I said. “I mean, technically yes, but not like that.”
“Can we please stop talking about this?” Wenshu said, looking pained. “I am going to jam knives into my ears.”