Chapter 8
The Falcon Strikes
765 words
The commander of the imperial guard was my man.
His wife had been Mother’s maid.
When Mother decided to die, she arranged futures for those girls.
She refused to let them be trapped in palace walls forever.
The commander opened the city gate early.
Prince Ling entered the capital.
I mixed among the imperial guards and killed my way into the palace.
At the banquet, everyone had already drunk heavily.
A dancer first noticed the sparks in the sky and the screams outside.
“Rebellion!”
A sharp voice tore through the night.
I pulled the fuses from several fireworks at my waist.
Explosions burst overhead.
Brilliant fire covered the sky.
Those fleeing stopped instinctively to watch.
The explosions swallowed cries for help.
“Kill!”
Prince Ling had killed until his eyes were red.
Blood on his blade had not dried.
He walked toward the consort holding the child.
The consort calmly handed the baby to him.
Prince Ling looked at the sleeping infant and laughed toward the sky.
“Emperor, you have today too.”
He carried the child toward the emperor’s hall.
I released a signal flare.
Prince Ling looked up, thinking it called reinforcements.
The commander saw my signal.
His men slit the throats of Prince Ling’s troops and threw them from the wall.
I raised the bow that was my father’s only relic and shot down Prince Ling’s followers.
They pointed at me before collapsing.
The emperor smelled blood.
“What is that stench?”
The old eunuch opened the window a crack and screamed.
“Blood! Corpses everywhere!”
The emperor staggered to the door and saw Prince Ling approaching with a blade.
He sat upright on the throne.
“Long time no see, imperial brother.”
“Impudent! You married my daughter. You should call me Father.”
Prince Ling laughed coldly.
The baby in his arms began crying.
The emperor panicked and reached toward the child.
“You—”
“Back then, you and your mother used filthy schemes to deceive the late king. You have sat on this throne long enough.”
“Prince Ling,” the emperor said, “the border wind still failed to wake you. If I had not been soft-hearted, if I had not remembered childhood affection, I should have killed you on the road to exile.”
“A man without poison cannot be great.”
Prince Ling grabbed the crying child.
One slash.
The infant split in two.
“My son!”
The emperor ran forward, old tears streaming.
He held the corpse, sobbing.
Prince Ling raised his blade toward the emperor’s head.
Before it fell—
Clang.
An arrow pierced him through the body.
“Princess… you!”
He turned in disbelief.
My face was covered in blood.
The bow in my hand still carried the warmth of killing.
“Consort Prince,” I said, “you always asked when I first saw you. When I first fell for you.”
He coughed blood and reached toward me.
“When your cavalry entered my tribe, my people and my ancestors died beneath your blade.”
“That was the first time I saw you.”
“You were an executioner.”
“How could I not hate you?”
Prince Ling laughed with the last of his strength and pulled out the arrow.
“So from the beginning, you led me into the trap.”
“I had countless ways to kill you on the border,” I said. “But that would have been too cheap.”
“Only your blood could appease my people beneath the earth.”
“I lost to the woman beside my pillow.”
He covered his face and wept.
“Not only that,” I said softly. “Just now, you killed your own son.”
I looked toward the corpse in the emperor’s arms.
“You thought the woman beside you every night was me?”
“She was a brothel woman I found.”
“The drugs made you hallucinate.”
“I only lent her my clothes.”
“And the child you killed was hers.”
“And yours.”
Prince Ling tried to stand and fight.
I took the bloody arrow he had just pulled from his body and thrust it into his throat.
Blood, still warm, surged out and splashed across my face.
He finally collapsed to both knees.
Dead beneath my father’s arrow.
“Farewell, Prince Ling!”
I said it loudly.
Granting him the last trace of dignity he desired.
The emperor stared at me.
Then threw aside the corpse in his arms and walked toward me.
“Jiao, you came to save me.”
I clapped.
The consort entered holding the real fifth prince.
He slept peacefully in her arms.
“Your Majesty,” I said, “only when the state is steady can Great Sheng stand.”
He looked at me.
At the consort.
At the commander holding a bloodied sword.
Everyone in the hall was mine.
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