A Strange Fragrance

What on earth is this woman?! The terror gripping her made her want to leap up and flee the carriage, but just then the coach reached the city gates. Outside, a guard called out, “Lift the curtain for inspection!” She was so startled she plopped right back down.

A young girl’s annoyed voice sounded from outside: “Our lady is inside. How can you search the carriage?” It sounded like the woman’s maid.

The guard barked roughly, “Enough nonsense, step aside!”

The maid shrieked as she was shoved away. The curtain was yanked open, and a coarse soldier’s face poked in. In the instant he peered inside, the beautiful woman leaned forward, locking eyes with him. Qingtan saw clearly—the woman’s pupils swirled green like vortices. The guard’s gaze immediately glazed over, his expression dazed.

The maid outside shoved the guard away, letting the curtain fall. The woman withdrew, her eyes once again black as ink. She glanced at the girl cowering in the corner, a hint of pride in the way her snow-white, bushy tail swayed and flicked.

Qingtan lowered her head in fright, clutching her knees as she trembled, not daring to look up.

Outside, the maid’s furious scolding rang out: “Did you find any suspects?”

The guard replied blankly, “N-no, none.”

“Then what were you staring at, you fool?”

“Madam...”

“Pah!” The maid spat angrily.

Laughter erupted among the guards, who came over to jeer: “Well? What did you see that left you so addled?”

The guard, jostled and teased, felt dizzy and weak, unable to utter a word.

The carriage started up then, the curtains swaying and releasing wisps of intoxicating fragrance. All around, people caught the scent and turned to look. Even the guards stopped their horseplay, each one entranced, watching as the carriage rolled through the city gate.

On the official road outside the city, the maid sat beside the coachman, still grumbling under her breath. Suddenly, she called through the curtain, “Madam, what powder are you wearing today? It smells wonderful.”

The woman replied, “It’s the secret blend my mother gave me last night.”

The maid laughed. “When you return home smelling this lovely, Master will surely be bewitched.”

The woman gave a soft laugh, and the maid smiled along. Only Qingtan, within the carriage, could see that the woman’s smile was nothing like her clear, pleasant laughter—it was sinister, filled with venom.

The carriage traveled for hours and stopped at a tavern at noon. The woman didn’t spare Qingtan a glance as she alighted, the maid attending her. Lifting a corner of the curtain for a peek, Qingtan saw the maid supporting the woman, the coachman tending to the horses. The long white tail swaying behind the woman was ignored by those around her. Passersby turned to stare, but their faces showed admiration, not alarm; clearly, they were drawn by her beauty and enchanting scent, not the tail.

They couldn’t see the woman’s tail! Only she could. Why? What was wrong with her eyes? What was this woman?

Panic gnawed at her. When the coachman went in search of hay, Qingtan slipped from the carriage, stumbling and scrambling away, desperate to put distance between herself and the monster dining inside. But after only a few steps, her vision swam, her legs turned to water—weak with hunger and exhaustion. Spoiled from birth, she’d never known such hardship. The aroma of food from the tavern drifted out, ensnaring her senses. She couldn’t take another step.

If she forced herself to run, she might collapse in the road. Glancing at the tavern, hunger emboldened her. She resolved to sneak in and find something to eat before fleeing again. The woman was inside; she could slip past to the kitchen. Circling around, she found the back entrance. Inside was the kitchen. Peeking in, she saw the head chef—broad and busy—his back to the door, the waiters all out front.

Taking advantage of the sizzling oil, she tiptoed toward a basket of flatbread. She managed to grab one—fresh from the pan, warm and fragrant—and hurried to bring it to her mouth.

Suddenly, a large hand seized her by the collar.

“You little beggar, stealing my food, are you?!”

Panicked, she looked up into the chef’s fleshy face. He sneered, “Daring to steal from my shop? Tired of living? The stray cat that stole our fish yesterday—I skinned it and hung it on a tree. Want to join it?”

Qingtan, young and credulous, burst into tears at the threat.

The chef dragged her through the tavern, intent on tossing her out. Qingtan, thinking he meant to skin and hang her, shrieked and struggled, drawing the attention of the dining patrons.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice called out, “Chef, that’s my maid. What’s she done?”

The chef paused, turning to see a haughty, elegantly dressed woman.

Clearly not someone to offend. He bowed obsequiously, “Madam, you must be joking. How could a lady like you employ such a ragged servant?”

The girl in his grip was dirty and disheveled, a world apart from the woman’s grandeur. Even the maid beside the woman looked puzzled. “Madam, this girl isn’t—”

The woman shot her a cold glance. The maid shuddered, swallowing her words. The chef realized the woman, out of kindness, was claiming the girl as her own. A shrewd businessman, he quickly smiled. “Oh, my mistake! If she’s your maid, of course she can take food. Forgive me for being rude.”

He released Qingtan, pushing her toward the woman, eager to retreat. Unexpectedly, the girl clung to his leg, pleading, “Uncle, I’m not her maid—please, don’t give me to her!” Between a monster and a brute, the monster was far more terrifying—especially with that great tail swishing behind the woman.

The chef grew angry. Was this girl daft? With such a mistress, she’d never go hungry again. “Don’t be ungrateful, girl! I’m busy. Let go!” He shook her off, sending her rolling to the woman’s feet. Lifting her head in panic, she saw, unmistakably, that the tail was indeed growing from the woman’s lower back!

The woman lifted her skirt enough to pull Qingtan out, pressing a flatbread into her hand. “Eat, and come with me,” she ordered imperiously. Qingtan dared not refuse. Who knew if this creature would suddenly bare fangs and devour her? Besides, food was food—she’d eat first, then worry.

Starving, Qingtan wolfed down three flatbreads. The woman grew impatient and urged her onward; before leaving, Qingtan grabbed another to stuff in her pocket. She needed strength to run.

Trailing behind the woman, she dawdled toward the carriage, eyes darting for a chance to escape. She overheard the maid complaining, “Madam, surely you’re not taking this filthy thing home?”

The woman replied, “I am.”

“But we have enough servants. Why bring home someone with no background?”

The woman fixed her with a chilling stare. “Servants will only grow fewer.”

The maid was baffled, about to question further, but met the woman’s icy gaze and fell silent, shivering. She wondered privately when her mistress had grown so unfathomable.

Half-Saint’s Seal, Chapter 4, updated with exotic fragrance!