They continued wordlessly to the edge of town. From there, a dirt path led toward the river.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he said, breaking the silence.
She paused for a moment, her lips pressed tight, then continued down the path.
“I knew your brother well. I consider Ru Shan—” He faltered. “I consider him a friend.”
“It is always good to meet friends.”
Her words were brittle. She knew. Even this far within the province, they would have heard reports of the unrest as well as rumors of who was instigating the rebellion. When he first learned of Ru Shan’s treachery, he hadn’t believed it. Doubt was quickly replaced by confusion, then anger. Now he didn’t know what to feel as he hunted for Ru Shan.
“He spoke often of you,” Chen continued. “Ru Shan and Ru Jiang. Mountain and river.” He fumbled for more. It was difficult to walk beside her. It was difficult to be pleasant while he held back what he’d come to tell her. “It seems very poetic.”
“Our family only makes the paper. We know nothing about the poetry written on it.”
“I’m no poet either,” he admitted.
“No, you’re a swordsman. A trained killer.”
Her directness took him aback, but she was right. He deserved this coldness from her.
He was trained. An expert. A clean death was a mercy, in a way. The final mercy and the only one he could give.
She had to get the swordsman away from town. There were too many people who could have seen her brother come and go. One seemingly harmless comment could mean his death.
River knew the men of the first battalion were fiercely loyal. They had honed their skills with the sword, the knife and the bow. They would follow an oath of honor through all the layers of hell.
Now one of those men walked beside her: sleek, silent and predatory. Ru Shan had spoken of this man like a brother, not this hard-edged warrior beside her. They had suspected someone would come, but she hadn’t expected it to be Wei Chen. Her heart pounded and she grew faint as the blood rushed through her. She’d been wrong about him, so wrong.
“You’re tall,” Chen said.
She frowned, struggling to find a suitable response.
“You’re taller than I imagined,” he amended.
Why would he care to fill the silence with this and that?
“My brother is tall,” she replied.
Her hands were shaking. She tucked them into her sleeves to hide them, and remained focused on the path ahead as they left the town behind them. His eyes were on her. She was certain he could see her guilt and sense the heat burning beneath her skin. Some careless remark could send this hunter after her brother.
The courtyard house stood on the river across the bend from the mill. They came to a halt outside the front. River paused with her hand on the wooden gate and forced herself to look directly at him.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, almost gently.
“I don’t believe you.”
Of all things, her lack of trust seemed to wound him. This hardened, steel-eyed soldier who faced death and dealt it in the same breath.
“You don’t know me, but I served with your brother among Governor Li Tao’s trusted bodyguards,” he explained. “Recently Ru Shan was released from the governor’s service. The circumstances were—not ideal.”
Her brother had been marched into the forest for execution. At the last moment, Governor Li had relented. Ru Shan should have just come home and then none of this would be happening. Her heart ached to think of it.
“My brother did speak of you,” she admitted.
Ru Shan had spoken Chen’s name many times to her father and to her. Chen was accomplished, highly skilled, disciplined. Had the warlord known to send the one man her brother would refuse to fight?
“My brother told me that you saved his life when he first went to battle.” She watched his face, searching for signs of the friend her brother so admired. “Our family owes you a great debt.”
Chen’s eyes grew cold. “That was a long time ago. Any debt that exists is only between your brother and me.”
“He hasn’t come here.”
She’d spoken too hastily. The swordsman pinned her with his gaze and she struggled not to look away while heat rose up the back of her neck.
“I know,” he said after a pause.
Chen had searched through the town, as she suspected, though it seemed he hadn’t interrogated the inhabitants yet. Otherwise he might have discovered that Ru Shan had been there. Her brother was still too close, only three days’ ride away.
“Why do you wish to speak to my father?” she asked.
“Ru Shan and I are brothers, in spirit if not in blood. I came to pay my respects to your family, as I should have done long ago.” His tone was calm. So calm. “And then I must apologize.”
“Apologize?’
A flicker of emotion crossed his face, too fleeting for her to catch. A chill traveled down her spine. Her next breath wouldn’t come.
“His shame is my shame.” Chen squared his shoulders before her. He was taller than Ru Shan. Stronger. Colder. “I must apologize for the sorrow I will inevitably bring you when I’m forced to kill him.”
Chapter 2
Chen didn’t threaten so much as promise. It would do no good to beg or plead. His decision had been made. River could see it in the set of his jaw and the way his tone never wavered.
She knew of the stories of the military governor’s ruthlessness. Li Tao showed no mercy. His men were the same, except for Ru Shan. Her brother had never belonged among those mercenaries. She’d thought Chen would be different as well, but her first impression was obviously correct: duty came first with him.
“That is unfortunate.” Her voice came out strained. She swallowed to try to regain it. “But expected.”
“I am truly sorry.”
Chen bowed and she wanted to shout at him. What use were such manners after what he’d just told her? But she had to remain calm.
“If I can speak to Master Yao, I will leave and no longer burden you with my presence.”
Leave to hunt down Ru Shan. What did etiquette demand she say after a man she’d never met announced he would kill her brother?
“You must stay for dinner.”
Chen frowned. Let him be confused. That was her one task now: to keep the swordsman distracted for as long as she could.
“The Yao family is not entirely without honor.” She regarded him pointedly. “And we have nothing to hide.”
She pushed the gate open and stepped into the enclosed courtyard. After a pause, Chen’s footsteps sounded behind her and she breathed with relief. The servants came to greet them, expressing surprise that she was home so early. The head attendant shot her a meaningful glance. Liao had made it home before her then. He’d warned the others.
“Our honored guest will be staying for dinner,” she said. “Prepare tea for him.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Chen protested.
“But you must be tired from your journey.”
Another objection lingered on his lips. She insisted again, and he finally relented. Such a simple, familiar pattern of etiquette.