Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (25 page)

I might be trapped, but I'm still determined to make
the most of this. I will learn everything I can.

Apparently I have a
lot to learn. I had no idea those fans had a limit to how much
energy could be pumped into them
. . . even though it makes total
sense.

Then again, I didn't even know something like those
fans existed until yesterday. So as I look around at those books, I
excitedly wonder what else I don't know.

“Don't get into any
trouble. We're watching you,” my guards mumble as they take up
position by the door, crossing their arms and looking
surly.

I smile back and walk into the room.

I try to ignore all
the judgmental looks the officers give me, but it's hard. Out in
the driving ra
in when I practiced with
the fan, I didn’t care what people thought. I'd known they were
watching me, and it hadn't stopped me at all.

Now, however, without a veil of water and the
distraction of the dance to distract me, it's not as easy to ignore
them.

Up in my village,
people hadn't really liked me. Apart from Castor, I'd had few
friends. The village
rs were mostly
distrustful of a woman who didn't, well, act like a
woman.

While the villages hadn't liked me, they hadn't been
so damn open with their hatred. These officers, however, look as
though I'm insulting them with my mere presence.

One even
mutters
, “women should not be allowed
here.”

“You better leave if
I'm making you uncomfortable,” I mutter back.

The man looks powerfully indignant, and snorts as he
walks away.

I laugh softly. Then almost immediately feel guilty,
wondering if my little act of rebellion will make it back to
Garl.

Garl.

God
. . . what does he want? Does he
intend to use me as a soldier? Train me up and let me loose on the
next person he wants to intimidate?

I shiver as I think about it. Tracing my hand up my
arm, I stop as I realize it's my left one.

Damn.

Yang knows it isn't injured. He grabbed it and
checked for himself before I could jerk away.

Damn that man.

Damn him.

Even more than Garl, he makes me angry. Because,
unlike Garl who isn't pretending to be nice—Captain Yang honestly
seems to think he can be my friend.

Or at least he wants me to think he's my friend.

“He's so
see-through,” I mutter as I walk amongst the book shelves, picking
out whatever interests me. Once I've gathered a massive pile, I
shove them onto a table and sit. Everyone else at the table
promptly leaves.

As I start to leaf through the books, I get an
idea.

Though they mostly cover the various details of
martial combat, I start to wonder what else this library has to
offer.

Specifically, whether it has anything on the Savior
and her legend.

While Castor has scrolls, and of course he taught me
about the story and the part I will play in it, there's still so
much I don't know.

Whenever I asked for
more information, he always told me there were scrolls in the
possession of the Royal Family that told more
of the story. But as we had no way to get to them, it
didn't matter.

Now, just maybe, I have a way to get to them. Hey,
who knows, some of those very books could be in this room. If not
those exact tomes, then other ones that could help me.

Pushing my current pile of books to the side, I start
a more thorough survey of the library. I climb up the ladders,
leaning confidently as I snatch up even the most hard to reach
books. I also lean down on my haunches as I pluck up tomes from the
dusty bottom shelves.

I search and I search.

I start to find things. Mentions, here and there.
Snippets of the story.

I even find a book dedicated to the guardians of the
Savior.

That's when I get excited. The book itself is on one
of the hardest to reach shelves, but I don't let that stop me. When
I hold it in my hands, I can't help but smile. A smile warmer and
more genuine than any I have given in days.

I can do this, I suddenly think. I can use my
imprisonment to my advantage.

Opening the book, I get a surge of power as my
fingers track over the old, yellowed pages.

It's written in an old dialect, but one I can read
thanks to Castor's tutelage.

Pressing my finger into the print, I scan the words,
my lips crumpling in with concentration.

The guardians, I read, are chosen by destiny. Men and
women ordained to train the Savior. They use their own magical
skills to strengthen her own.

. . .
.

Castor doesn't have magic, or at least not the
obvious kind. His determination and knowledge, however, are more
magical than flame bursting from one's fingertips.

I continue to read, becoming thoroughly immersed in
what I'm looking at.

I shift around on the spot, then I take a step
backwards as I'm still reading.

Someone jostles into me, and I drop the book,
watching it skid across the ground, its pages fluttering.

“Hey,” I snap as I
turn.

Captain Yang.

He looks startled as
he blinks quickly
. “What are you doing
here?”

“I was told by my
eloquent guards to read,” I say, mimicking their gruff tones. “So
I'm reading,” I place my hands on my hips.

I shouldn't be sassing him, but I can't help it.

There's something about his face. No, about him.

I blame him. Everything is his fault.

He raises an eyebrow,
then quickly shakes his head
. “Study is
virtuous,” he mumbles as an afterthought.

I can tell it's not what he wanted to say—it feels
like something he just blurted out. In fact, after he says it, he
winces a little.

“Anyhow, please move,
I need to access that ladder,” he says as he points to the ladder
behind me.

“Why do you need a
book? Does the Princess want you to recite poetry to her?” I ask,
hardly thinking as I speak.

My irritation at Captain Yang gets the better of
me.

“No,” Yang answers as
he races up the ladder, his poise perfect. He searches the shelves,
clearly looking for something.

“Why do you need a
book then? Is it so you can stand on it and impress her highness
with your mighty height?” I ask, laughing at my own truly dumb
joke.

“No,” he answers. He
huffs. “Where is that book?”

“I'll leave you to
it,” I say as I walk over to pick up my own book.

Yang jumps down from the ladder. He doesn't climb
down—he lets go, landing with hardly any weight. He doesn't shake
the bookcases, causing scrolls to come tumbling down around him. He
lets go and falls like a single droplet of water, landing with just
as much force.

I look at him startled, before continuing to lean
down for my book.

He gets there first. He ducks in and picks it up.
Turning it over, he looks at the title.

He looks right at me.

I want to say something trite and defensive, but I
can't.

Suddenly I'm terrified.

I thought it would be a smart use of my time to look
up the Savior myth. Now, however, I realize it has left me
exposed.

“It's just a book,” I
swallow. “It looked interesting. No, it fell from the bookcase,” I
suddenly change my mind in the most obvious lie ever.

Captain Yang narrows his gaze.

“It's just a book.
It's a . . . myth,” I add in a weak voice.

“Aren't you meant to
be studying combat?” he asks carefully.

I swallow again. If I'm trying to look calm, I'm not
managing it. Even a blind man would be able to see how nervous and
flustered I am.

“They just pointed at
the books and said study. And, well, I got bored so I
. . . looked at that book. It's just a harmless myth,” I
add quickly. “Nobody believes in the Savior anymore,” I practically
whisper.

Yang nods.

I catch him staring
at my left hand again. He almost looks like he wants to grab it up
and inspect it once more. So I tuck it firmly behind my
back
. “Are we done here?” I instinctively
ask.

He doesn't answer. He dusts the jacket of the book
carefully with his palm, then walks away. As he does, he stares at
me from over his shoulder. In fact, he doesn't turn around until he
makes it out of the door.

I'm left
. . . terrified.

Of course I am.

He looked suspicious.

Could he
. . . have guessed what I
am?

While Castor told me that there are few who still
seriously believe in the legend of the Savior, it would take little
to rekindle their belief.

Especially when coupled with my power.

I place a hand on my stomach and try to breathe. It's
hard though. All I imagine is Captain Yang racing back to Garl and
telling him what he suspects.

Feeling weak, and hating myself for it, I walk behind
a row of books, finding a little nook where I can be on my own.
Then I lean my back into the hard wood and close my eyes.

“You have to be more
careful,” I whisper to myself. Without Castor, I'm on my
own.

Captain Yang

I hold onto the book as I jog back through the
corridors, heading to the Princess.

I also hold onto the memory of how Yin reacted.

She isn't the kind to get flustered. Powerfully angry
and determined, yes. But not nervous.

She'd looked as if I'd caught her. While technically
she should probably have been studying combat, I doubt she was
skittish just because I'd found her looking at something else.

No, the way she
looked at me had been so
. . .
vulnerable.

The second act of vulnerable she's shown today.

I try to wipe all of that from my mind as I head
quickly back to the Princess. Her training has already been delayed
by the rain. Now they are waiting on me to bring this book. I can't
dither thinking about Yin's curious reaction.

Her hand.

It isn't injured at
all. Though I want to question her about it, I know she
won't
answer. She'll snap at me that “we
are done,” and turn her back.

I have never met a woman like her. Bolder than most
soldiers under my command, she has a streak of will so determined,
it feels as if parts of her are made of solid diamond.

Realizing I'm still thinking about her, I roll my
eyes.

Finally I reach the correct room. It's spacious with
pictures of the Royal Family—including Mara herself—lining the
walls. There are also beautiful antique chairs and couches, and a
large, ornate cherry wood table.

It’s a room specifically intended for receiving
dignitaries.

Of which the Princess is unquestionably one. However,
I can't help think that as she's seated on a deep purple cushion
sipping at tea, she isn't training.

She should be out in the puddle-soaked square
learning how to fight.

As I catch myself thinking that, I'm appalled. She's
the Princess, I tell myself.

But she's also the Savior.

The Savior must save. Drinking tea on a purple
cushion isn't going to aid that holy quest.

It's not my place to interrupt, though.

As I enter the room, Mara smiles at me. It's such a
warm and inviting move, I feel like blushing. Qu, Garl, and
Matok—the head of the palace guards—are all in the room, and all
can clearly see the way she's gazing at me.

Oh, and there's one other person. Castorious Barr.
He, unlike the generals and the Princess, is not seated.

He is standing with his back to the far wall, his
face angled out of the window as he stares watchfully into the
square.

Is he looking for her? Yin?

As I clear my throat and present the book to the
Princess, Castor turns around.

I feel his gaze like fire burning through water.

Clearing my throat, I
nod at the Princess
. “It was a little
harder to find that I thought it would be,” I say truthfully,
though omit the reason why, “but here it is.”

Mara smiles again, then carefully opens the cover
with her delicate hand, her bracelets tinkling lightly against
it.

With a watchful,
intelligent gaze, she scans through the book
. “It's in the Old Dialect,” she suddenly says,
disappointment filling her tone. “Do we have a
translation?”

“It is?” I ask,
confused.

Either Yin was lying,
and wasn't reading the book, or
. . . she can read the Old Dialect.

Few scholars can, so why would a simple girl from the
mountains have been taught to?

I find myself looking back at Castor.

He stares my way, his arms crossed, one leg locked
over the other as he leans against the wall.

They've given him armor fitting his old rank—major.
It's finer than most, though, and even bears the purple insignia of
the palace. It is testament to how easily they have accepted him
back.

The great, the powerful, the loyal Castorious
Barr.

I turn from him
slowly, clearing my throat as I do
.
“Princess, we will hand it over to the record keepers and have it
translated at once,” I suggest.

“I'm sure they have
their own translation,” Castor interrupts. “Anyhow, I did not
request this book so that it can be read. I am interested in the
pictures. If you turn to the middle, you will see several
illustrations depicting a series of movements. It is a powerful
combat form, and I want you to memorize it.”