She twirled the sword around.
Then suddenly our father emerged, stepping away from a huge peach tree. I hadn’t even realized he’d been behind it the whole time.
For some reason, it made me nervous.
However, Yan beamed with excitement. “Daddy! We're ruling the garden together!”
Silent, he looked at me and the sword.
I bobbed my head. “I’m the Mountain Master and she is the Mountain Mistress!”
Instead of the amused smile we expected, my father’s expression hardened and then his eyes bore into Yan with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.
I stepped back.
Yan's smile faltered and the joy dimmed in her eyes.
“Yan.” Then, he pointed to me. “Give the sword back to Lei.”
She quirked her brows. “Why?”
“BecauseonlyLei could be the Mountain Master.”
My stomach twisted. I was unsure of why I felt so. . .odd. . .too young to understand my emotions at this time.
Yan looked up at him. “But I made the sword and—”
“It doesn’t matter who made the sword, Yan, but it does matter whoholdsthe sword and that will forever be Lei.”
His words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
The carefree world Yan and I had created shattered under the weight of his disapproval.
He gestured to me. “Get the sword from her.”
I glanced at Yan and couldn’t move.
“Okay, Daddy.” Her shoulders slumped and the sword dropped in her hand.
I still didn’t move.
Seconds later, she gave it to me and then left.
So confused, I watched her retreat, head bowed leaving me alone with our father and the sword.
I was too young to understand the full implications of his words, too naive to see the dark undertones.
All I knew was, something had shifted that day.
Something irrevocable.
And little by little, Yan and I. . .we never were the same.
We never played the same.