Butterfly Swords

‘You stayed,’ he said with some surprise as he handed the skin back to her.

‘I owed you a debt.’

The corner of his mouth lifted crookedly and his blue eyes slid over her. ‘To see you is payment enough.’

She must have been confused by the mix of dialects and his atrocious inflection. A man wouldn’t use such sugared tones when she was disguised this way.

She squared her shoulders. ‘Where did you learn how to speak?’

‘Why?’

‘You sound like you were taught in a brothel.’

He exploded, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. ‘Can’t deny that,’ he said with a grin.

The words of his native tongue sounded jarring to her ears, but she recognised them. ‘I can try to speak in your language,’ she offered.

‘You know it?’ A deep frown appeared over his forehead. ‘Few in the empire do.’

She clamped her mouth shut, biting down on her lip. ‘My father is a tea merchant. He travels far outside the empire along the trade routes.’

The explanation seemed feeble at best, but his expression relaxed. ‘They call me Ryam.’

‘Ryam.’ She tested the sound of it. ‘What does it mean?’

He remained seated in the grass, his arms dangling carelessly over his knees. ‘It means nothing.’

No mention of a family name as was the custom. She didn’t ask about it for fear of being impolite.

‘My name is Li, family name Chang. You can call me Brother Li.’

‘Brother? Anyone can see you’re a woman.’

Her hand tightened on the sword. Suddenly she didn’t like the way he smiled at her at all.

‘I’m not going to harm you,’ he said quickly, holding up his hands, palms out. ‘I ran into a horde of men waving knives to help you, remember? You kicked me pretty hard for all my trouble.’

She blushed, remembering exactly where she had kicked him. ‘My name is Chang Ai Li,’ she relented.

‘Ailey. That’s a pretty name.’

She ignored the compliment. ‘What is a foreigner doing so deep in the empire?’

‘What is a woman doing travelling alone with a group of men?’

His eyes met hers without wavering, as if she were the strange one. She was becoming more curious about him with each passing moment, but it wouldn’t do to linger out in the woods with a barbarian.

‘I see now that you are not hurt.’ She spared him a final glance. ‘Farewell then.’

‘Wait, where are you going?’

He shot to his feet and her breath caught as he stretched to his full height before her. Her gaze lifted from the expanse of his chest to meet his eyes. They were so pale, like clear, cloudless skies.

‘I—I need to get back to my bodyguards,’ she stammered, her throat suddenly dry. ‘They will be looking for me.’

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’

He continued to block her path. With his size he could overpower her easily, but the look on his face showed nothing but concern. Something told her he wasn’t the sort to use his strength against a woman.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘That rice was meant for you. Whatever was in there, it was enough to smuggle you out of the province before you woke up. A face like yours would fetch a high price in the pleasure dens.’

A sickening feeling twisted her stomach. ‘My guards would not betray me.’

‘How long have you known them?’

She fiddled at the collar of her oversized tunic. Old Wu had hired those men under desperate circumstances, but she knew that loyalty could not be bought. Not with all the gold on this earth.

‘It’s nearly sundown,’ he said, glancing at the sky. ‘You had better stay here in case any of that scum is still about.’

Stay the night here with him and no one around for miles? Her heart thudded as if trying to escape the tight cloth bound around her breasts. He had rescued her. She should have nothing to fear from him, but there was something primal and dangerous in him. Masculine. Yang. He stood too close, close enough for her to catch his scent—an enticing mix of leather and the autumn smell of the woods that invited her to tempt fate. She couldn’t let her guard down.

With a steadying breath, she stepped back. ‘How can I be sure it is safe here?’

‘You don’t want to face those smugglers alone.’ He regarded her with a half-smile. ‘Unless you intend to fight off all of them with those knives of yours.’

‘They’re not knives. These are butterfly swords.’ She shoved the second blade away.

‘You can get back to the road in the morning,’ he said. ‘I won’t touch you if that is what you’re afraid of. I’ll start a fire.’ He moved away to gather kindling, allowing her space to consider.

Everything he spoke of made sense. Her guards had fallen too easily. Someone among them had betrayed her. Once Li Tao discovered she was gone, he would send his men in a black swarm over the area. Instinct told her she needed to keep moving, but to where? She was stranded in the southern province with night nearly upon them and no road to guide her. She laced her hands together and lowered her head in thought.

Her gaze drifted to the sword at the foreigner’s belt. The blade was larger than the ones used among the soldiers of the empire. A weapon designed to cleave armour and crush bone. He had wielded it with obvious skill.

More importantly, he didn’t recognise her.

A new plan started to form in her head. Father would call it reckless. Mother—her mother would expend much more than a single word to describe her foolishness. But what could she rely on out here besides her butterfly swords and her instincts? Even though her instincts had proven wrong with the hired guards, she had a sense of yuán fèn about this swordsman. That she would meet a barbarian, of all people, on this journey—what could that be but fate between them?

And she had no other choice.

Ailey paced as he gathered fallen twigs. She circled the clearing once, hands on her hips. The tips of the yellowed grass brushed over her calves. With each movement he caught hints of her shape beneath the drab clothing: tapered waist and gently rounded hips that would fit perfectly into a man’s hands. He had glimpsed the edge of the cloth wrapped tight around her breasts just below the neckline of her tunic. Already his imagination ran wild with the thought of her undressed and unbound before him.

With one knee set on the ground, he sparked the kindling with flint and steel. His mind could wander all it wanted where Ailey was concerned. Thoughts were harmless, even heated thoughts about pretty girls lost in the woods. As long as he kept his hands where they belonged.

The grass rustled behind him as she approached. Already he was acutely aware of her every move, his senses reaching out to search for her.

‘You decided to stay,’ he said over his shoulder.

She was looking down at him with sudden interest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of interest he usually sought from a woman.

‘You handled yourself well against those men,’ she began.

He shrugged dismissively. ‘Common thugs.’

‘And you were outnumbered and drugged as well.’

She took a step closer. Her teeth clasped over her lower lip uncertainly while her eyes shone with hope. She had no idea what that look did to a man.

He blew out an unsteady breath. ‘Anyone would have done the same—’

‘I need your protection to help me return home,’ she interrupted in a rush.

An immediate refusal hovered on his tongue. ‘Where do you live?’ he asked instead.

‘Changan.’

The imperial capital. A good week’s journey from here and in the opposite direction of where he needed to go. The area surrounding the city would be littered with imperial soldiers who would be overjoyed to see him.

‘I can pay you,’ she said when he remained silent.

She pulled a silk purse from her belt and threw it to him before he could respond. The coins rattled as he caught it.

‘Open it.’

The weight of it told him what he’d find before he pulled at the drawstring to reveal a handful of gold and silver. He closed it and tossed it back with a flick of his wrist. The purse landed in the dirt at her feet.

‘I can’t.’

Her eyebrows shot up, puzzled. ‘You do not know how much this is.’

‘I know how much it is,’ he said through his teeth. ‘I don’t want your money.’

She lowered her tone. ‘I have offended you.’

He straightened, avoiding her eyes while needles of guilt stabbed at him, sharp and unrelenting. She didn’t know what she was asking.

‘I can’t go to Changan no matter what the price. And don’t go throwing your money around—what the hell are you doing?’

She had her hands clasped together in front of her, palm to fist, head bowed humbly.

‘I am beseeching you as a fellow swordsman. I need your protection.’

‘We’re not fellow swordsmen,’ he growled. Raising a hand to the back of his neck, he pinched at the knot forming there. ‘You don’t even know who I am.’

‘I know we are strangers and this is an unspeakable imposition, but I must get home and I cannot make it alone.’

Now it was his turn to pace. He could sense her hovering nearby, waiting for an answer as if he hadn’t already given it. His inability to help her tore at him. He couldn’t be responsible for Ailey. His last mistake was the deadliest in a long, winding chain of them. Whoever had decided he should lead other men must have been either drunk or daft. At least while he was alone, no one else could get hurt.

‘What are you doing so far from home, anyway?’ he demanded.

‘I help my family with our business.’

‘Selling tea?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Tea.’

‘No respectable merchant would send his daughter out here unprotected. The imperial army no longer guards these roads.’

‘I was not alone,’ she insisted. ‘I was with bodyguards.’ Her voice trailed away and she pulled the cap from her head in an agitated motion. A single braid tumbled over her shoulder, black as ink. Unbound, it would frame her face like a dream.

No. He was not going to be swayed.

‘If I go to Changan, I’ll be hanged,’ he said with forced coldness. ‘Is that the sort of man you want to be travelling with?’

She tensed, but refused to back down. ‘What did you do? Did you steal something?’

‘No.’

‘Did you kill someone?’ Her voice faltered.

‘No.’

She shouldn’t look so relieved. He wasn’t a thief or a murderer, but he wasn’t much better. Anger and regret flooded him all at once. ‘I made a mistake.’

A half-witted, disastrous mistake. He should have never taken that command. He wasn’t fit to lead others. He could barely keep himself alive. The fire crackled and sputtered as it began to die.

‘I’ll take you to the nearest town,’ he said, tossing more wood into the fire. ‘You can find someone else to take you home.’

After a long silence, she settled in the grass beside him and pulled her legs to her chest. She didn’t argue with him, but he could see the stubborn determination in her eyes.

‘I want to help. I’m just not the right person to do it.’

‘I know you’re a good man.’

The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting a spark of gold within the irises. His gaze strayed to her mouth despite his best intentions. Desire blindsided him, heated, unbidden and greedy.

‘I’m not,’ he muttered.

Ailey shouldn’t have been alone out there, as trusting as she was. A man could easily take advantage of her. She would be silk and moonlight in his arms. A couple of hours of forgetfulness.

He was a savage to even consider it. She was stranded and desperate. She had begged for his help and he had refused after she had shown him the only touch of kindness he’d known in a long time. The first since he had woken up in a hovel a month ago, the gash on his head still healing.

He struggled to find something civil. ‘You’re pretty good with those swords.’

‘My brothers and I would practise together. I have five—had five.’ An unmistakable look of sadness crossed her face.

‘Where in God’s earth are they?’

She grew quiet, scraping the toe of her boot against the dirt. ‘They’re scattered to different corners of the empire.’

‘I can’t believe there is no one nearby who can help you. An associate of your father’s or the town magistrate.’

‘There is no one.’

She raised her chin stubbornly. His hands itched to stroke the graceful line of her neck. He could almost taste how sweet her mouth would be, innocent and untried. Grabbing a twig, he snapped it in two and threw it into the flames. Apparently he did have some principles after all. Her faith in him, misplaced as it was, humbled him.

He drew his sword. She started at the sound, her lithe body coiled and ready. Fighter’s reflexes. The kind that took time and practice to develop.

‘I’m laying this down between us,’ he explained.

Her eyes lit up. ‘May I?’

His attempt at honour seemed lost on her. She wrapped her slender fingers around the hilt with careful reverence. Her arms sank under the weight.

‘It’s quite heavy,’ she murmured.

‘It belonged to my father.’

What had compelled him to tell her? It had been years since he’d spoken of his father. Her gaze roamed over the guard and down the length of the battered steel. The scrutiny felt so much more personal than if she had looked him over with the same admiration. Suddenly it bothered him to be sharing this moment with a stranger, this odd girl who liked swords.

Without a word, he took the weapon from her hands and placed it between them. She regarded him with a confused look before withdrawing. Hugging her arms around her knees, she scanned the darkness. The whir of cicadas filled the night. For a moment the look on her face was so vulnerable, the need to protect her overwhelmed any other urge. They were both stranded out here with no idea what the next day would bring. He wagered she wasn’t as accustomed to it as he was.

He undid the clasp of his cloak and tugged it from his shoulders.

‘I’ve got thick skin,’ he said when she protested.

That earned him a faint smile. She thanked him and wrapped the cloak around her, disappearing into the wool. Seeing her in it sent another wave of possessiveness through him.

He lowered himself to the grass and tucked his arms behind his head. ‘It’s not far to the next town.’

‘Did you just come from there?’

‘Yes. They chased me away with shovels and axes.’

She blinked at him, not understanding.

‘Someone will help you there,’ he amended.

She pulled his cloak tight around her, as if shielding herself from the night. ‘I know you have done all you can.’

A grunt was all he could muster in response.

If she knew any better, she’d have never asked for his help. Even the soft sigh of her breath seemed like seduction. He dug his nails into his palms, using the sharp bite to distract him as he stared at the outline of the trees against the sky, black on black. There was nothing he could do for her and he hated it.

‘I should tell you something,’ he said.

The grass shifted beside him as she turned onto her side. Only her face was visible from under the hood. The fire cast a deep shadow beneath her cheekbones.

‘You do not know how to lie.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t lie.’

‘You carry a sword and have five brothers trained to fight. Why would your merchant father be raising a small army?’

When she said nothing, he knew he’d hit his mark. She had the look of a cornered fox ready to flee.

‘What does it matter? You will be gone by tomorrow,’ she said.

The dwindling fire crackled in the ensuing silence. He let his head drop back against the hard ground. Apparently, he’d made the right decision not to get involved.

‘You’re nobility. Warrior class.’

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Nobility or not, Ailey was not for him. He was a barbarian in this land and always would be. Her sword-wielding brothers would castrate him if they discovered him alone with her. And then they’d kill him.

Chapter Two

Ailey woke with the first hint of daylight, blinking up at the sky in disbelief. It took a moment before she had enough command of her muscles to sit up. Though she couldn’t see any stones now, she had sworn there were a thousand of them beneath her during the night. All digging sharply into the parts of her that were most sore. It was better to wake up on the cold, bare earth than shackled in Li Tao’s wedding bed, but she didn’t want to think of how many more days and nights there were between here and the capital. She had journeyed for over a week by palanquin, escorted by the wedding party. Now she was alone.

Not completely alone.

Ryam slept beside her with his arms huddled over his chest, his chin tucked close. His sword still lay between them and the heady scent of his skin permeated the wool around her. The boyish look of him in sleep sparked some nurturing instinct. She untangled herself from his cloak to lay it gingerly over him. The material barely covered the expanse of his torso. With a muffled grunt, his long fingers curled around the wool to pull it up around him.

Fearsome warrior indeed.

Now that she was more accustomed to him, his features didn’t appear so harsh. She could even see how his strangeness might be considered handsome … if one looked long enough. She turned away as a disturbing awareness fluttered in her chest. Best to let him sleep.

The atmosphere hung damp and heavy, and a sheen of morning dew covered the grass. She stood and raised her arms over her head, letting the blood flow through her languid muscles. The stir of the breeze between the branches greeted her from the woods. A whooping call of a bird in the distance was the only sign of any living creature other than the two of them.

She had only told him part of the truth about her family the night before. Ryam was an outsider who wasn’t likely to have any ties to their enemies. She couldn’t tell who was loyal any more. She lifted her swords and paced towards the centre of the clearing. Restlessly, her right arm directed its blade in an attack pattern. Perhaps she could think of a way to persuade the foreign swordsman to stay with her. The left blade followed out of habit, echoing the same precise movements.

If she was at home, Grandmother would be watching over her as she went through her daily practice. Her grip remained easy as she let the butterfly swords circle in front of her. She tried to conjure Grandmother’s voice. Better. Now again. The familiar exercise held no comfort. She might never see her grandmother or the rest of her family again.

All her life, she’d dreamed she would leave one day to marry. Part of her had always dreaded that moment, but only with the usual sadness of any daughter leaving the comfort of childhood behind. She never imagined she’d defy her betrothal to flee back home.

It was shameful. Dishonourable. The echo of her parents’ disapproval resounded deep within her, louder than any true sound could ever be.

But how could she marry a murderer? Old Wu had told her that her brother Ming Han’s death wasn’t an accident. Li Tao was the one responsible.

‘What is that you’re doing?’

Ryam’s presence broke through her sorrow, shattering the stillness like a pebble tossed into a pond. He stood outside of arm’s reach and his gaze followed the path of her swords.

She stared at her hands as if they were no longer her own. ‘First sword form,’ she replied, at a loss.

Had he been watching her? She had been going through the motions to try to focus her thoughts. Her technique must have been unforgivable—what a strange thought to have at that moment! Her pulse hammered under his scrutiny. She was used to Grandmother watching her with the eyes of a hawk. This was so very different.

‘I was … I was practising.’

‘This is how you practise?’

He folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head as he circled her. The intensity of his gaze flooded her with heat. It was a wonder she didn’t cut herself with her own swords.

‘All those elaborate patterns,’ he murmured. ‘Does that help in fights?’

‘In combat, your body falls into what it has done a thousand times before. A perfect harmony between instinct and thought.’

Her throat felt dry as she recited the words. Her elder brothers were commonly praised for their skill, but never before had a man shown such interest in her. She drew out an intricate pattern with the tip of one sword in three neat swipes, as if wielding a calligraphy brush. It gave her something to do as he stepped closer. All of the air around her seemed to rush towards him whenever he drew near.

‘Your brothers taught you this?’ he asked.

‘My grandmother.’

His laughter filled the clearing. ‘Your grandmother?’

‘Grandmother was a master.’

The next pass of her sword sliced a scant inch in front of him, taunting. He stood his ground and his smile widened.

‘So do you want to try it?’

Her swords froze. ‘Try it?’

‘My barbaric head bashing against that beautiful sword work of yours.’

A duel. Her heart was already pounding with the promise of it.

‘No,’ she replied.

‘No?’

‘You are far more experienced than I am.’

The meaning had been clear in her head as she spoke the words, yet another, more suggestive meaning loomed between them. A well of heat rose up her neck. She blamed this barbarian language.

He placed a hand to his chest with mock passion. ‘But you got the better of me yesterday when I was drugged. Don’t I deserve a chance to redeem myself?’

She was certain there was something not quite proper about a strange man offering to spar with her the day after they met. Yet this foreigner treated her with such directness and familiarity, like her brothers. He continued to taunt her with laughter shining in his eyes and the curve of his mouth hinted at an irresistible wickedness. Her stomach knotted in response.

In truth, not like her brothers at all.

‘I should get some advantage since you are so …’ she looked him up and down ‘… big.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

With a household of five brothers she knew how to pick her battles. Ryam had had more training than she and his sword could cut her in half, but its weight would slow him down. And the terms were yet to be negotiated. With a good plan, she could defeat Fourth Brother and occasionally, even Third Brother.

‘I attack first. Ten attempts. You can only defend,’ she proposed.

‘You do this often, don’t you?’

His irises shifted to storm grey, the laughter in them transforming into something dark and unknown. He held her gaze while the woods faded around her.

‘What do you say to a wager?’ He unsheathed his sword in a seductive whisper of steel. ‘If I win, you give me a kiss.’

Barbaric. But she saw her opening.

‘If I win, you take me to Changan.’

He let her heart beat on for ever before answering.

‘Agreed.’

Her palms began to sweat, and a fever rose beneath her skin. Up until then, she truly believed she could defeat him. She had been running strategies through her head, but suddenly she found herself staring at the rough stubble over his jaw and wondering if it would tickle. It was the sort of daydream that would send Grandmother’s bamboo switch stinging over her knuckles. The sort of thought that would have Mother beseeching their ancestors to bring her back to sanity.

‘After the first round—’ She ran her tongue over her lips. For all her negotiation, she had the sinking feeling this duel had slipped out of her grasp. ‘If you do not defeat me after ten attempts, you should honourably forfeit.’

‘Of course. Twenty moves?’ he asked softly.

Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Mind, breath, body. ‘Or first blood.’