thin. The crowd began to whisper that down at the end of the line was a young archer who had not only hit every target, but whose skill and technique was as clean and fluid as a line of poetry. He wasted not one movement, not one arrow.
Soon the spectators had drifted to crowd around the far end of the field to watch him and even the Emperor beneath his coloured awning had taken notice. By the end of the match, it was the imperial archery instructor himself against Fei Long. The two of them would take an arrow from their quivers, draw back and shoot in tandem. Arrow after arrow. Dead centre.
‘When the last arrow came up, do you know what Lord Chang did?’
Yan Ling ground her teeth with anticipation. ‘He couldn’t have missed!’
‘Fei Long aimed high into the air and shot it deep into the forest, missing on purpose. Then he bowed before the imperial archer, acknowledging the older man’s much greater skill and experience. So the instructor laughed heartily and let his final arrow fly in very same manner. They say the two arrows were never found.’
That was Fei Long to the very essence. Allowing the respected master to save face rather than claiming the glory for himself.
‘He must win this time,’ Yan Ling said, bolstered by Dao’s tale.
But in her heart, she knew Fei Long hadn’t fully recovered. He would never admit it to anyone, least of all his enemies.
‘This archery contest is set for the fifteenth of the month. It’s a much more private affair than a Great Shoot,’ Dao said.
‘Ten days,’ she said wistfully. ‘I could be gone by then, Dao.’
Time was flowing too quickly. She’d already wasted half a day shut inside this room. Suddenly Yan Ling was besieged by things she yearned to do and see: the Wild Goose Pagoda in the southern part of the city and the Serpentine River Park. She wanted to visit them all and she wanted Fei Long to be the one beside her, but everything the Chang family owned could be taken away.
‘You know Yan, everyone was always drawn to Fei Long. He wasn’t as fun-loving and boisterous as the elder Lord Chang, but people liked him.’
Yan Ling remained quiet. She knew where this would go.
‘When I saw Lord Chang so badly beaten…’ Dao paused to pour more tea ‘…I was heartsick. Such a tragedy brings forth great feeling.’
‘I’m not falling in love with him,’ Yan Ling assured, with a trace of bitterness. Dao was still staring at her. ‘I’m not.’
‘Good, then.’
She refused to speak any more about it. Anything she said would only reveal how deep her feelings had become and those feelings were unacceptable.
From Dao’s perspective, the arrangement with Khitan was to everyone’s benefit. Yan Ling’s little lie to Dao was nothing when compared against the greater good.
Chapter Nineteen
Fei Long received a letter the next morning from Li Bai Shen delivered by messenger. He pulled the paper from its sleeve and unfolded it. The first line took him by surprise.
My family married me, Bai Shen wrote passionately, to the other side of heaven.
That incorrigible bastard. Not a single word was Bai Shen’s. He’d copied Princess Xijun’s famous lament at being married off to a foreign land. The actor refused to set foot into the house, but he had no objections to asserting influence and stirring up trouble.
Fei Long scanned the rest of the verses about the loneliness of living in a strange country and the princess’s sorrow-filled longing for her homeland. Li Bai Shen. Shameless.
As if he needed the blade of guilt to be driven any deeper. Yan Ling wasn’t a privileged princess, prone to sentiment and melancholy. She was a strong, practical woman. She might mourn her departure at first, but soon she would acclimate to the steppes as quickly as she had adopted Changan and the daily routine of their household.
The women of the Khitan were said to be more independent. They dressed in male clothing and took on the same responsibilities as men. Yan Ling might enjoy that. He remembered her swaggering back and forth in front of him, disguised as a male attendant.
He was wrong to pity her. Yan Ling would embrace the open freedom of the grasslands. She would survive. If he knew anything about her, she would thrive.
He pressed a hand to his side as pain shot through his ribs. The injury had been bothering him since the walk through the city the previous day. He called for