Chapter Thirty-Seven
LIM DROPPED to the straw and stone, searching for the rise and fall of Xian’s chest. His hands hovered near the prince’s body, battling twin fears; of Xian waking with Lim’s hands on him, and of daring to touch him and finding no sign of life.
‘Don’t do this, Xian. Don’t you dare,’ Lim said gruffly. ‘I won’t have it, do you hear me?’
He poked at the prince. As he’d poked at the fox. Demanding, not praying, to the gods that he’d have the same result.
Xian’s moan barely reached Lim’s ears, but the sound might as well have been a flock of hwamei singing their morning song.
Choked laughter bubbled with Lim’s relief.
‘You’re alive.’
Xian sighed as he curled into a tighter ball. A soft snore reached Lim’s ears.
The man was deep asleep…and completely naked. Xian would wish to die if he woke to find himself like this.
Lim shrugged off one shoulder of his jacket before realising what a pointless thing it was to use the shredded, singed material to cover Xian.
He took in his surroundings at last. They were in a small walled courtyard of a single-storey building; a merchant’s office, perhaps.
But one long abandoned. The back door hung from one hinge.
The room within was sparsely furnished; only one overturned table from what Lim could see.
But he brightened at the sight of the curtain hanging from a window.
A long curtain of hemp, one that would have touched the floor if it hung inside, but now flapped about in the open air like an army’s banner.
‘I can work with that,’ Lim muttered.
He looked to Xian, and satisfied the prince wasn’t yet waking, he hurried to the window.
Crates lay scattered about beneath it, one half filled with pumpkins; well out of season and in the darkness looking like a pile of black pots.
The gourds held a pungent odour, not yet rotting but soon to be so.
The last of the autumn vegetables enduring into the new year.
Lim leaned over the crate to snatch at the material and tore the curtain from the stoic nail that held it by one corner.
A groan made him spin around.
The prince was rousing, pushing himself onto his elbow, whimpering with the pain it caused him.
‘Careful now,’ Lim called, sprinting back to the prince’s side. He dropped the hemp and reached for him. ‘Take your time.’
He touched Xian’s shoulder, and a slender arm swiped at him. Missing its target widely.
‘Don’t touch me,’ the prince slurred.
‘Your highness.’ Lim knew they were well beyond formal address, but hoped it would draw his attention more readily. ‘It’s me, Song Lim.’
‘Song Lim.’ The way he said it, breathing it like a prayer, took Lim aback. ‘You’re alive.’
‘I am. Thanks to you…and…’ He stopped. ‘Thanks to you.’
Xian lifted his head, and his straw-snagged hair fell away from his face. He had smears of soot on his forehead, his lips were dry and cracked, the shadows beneath his violet eyes deep, but never a finer man had Lim seen.
‘Song Lim.’ Xian reached for him, and Lim grabbed at his hand greedily, wrapping it between both of his own.
‘Are you all right, Xian?’
‘I think so…yes…but what of you? You were struck by something, I tried to avoid it…but then you went so still as I carried…’ His lips twisted, catching whatever words he’d been about to speak. ‘Were you hurt?’
‘I’m fine, I’m alive. In need of ten baths and I’ll be throwing out these clothes…but fine. Xian…what you did…it was…’ He searched for the words, needing to make them perfect.
Xian glanced down shyly. ‘Oh gods! My clothes.’ One hand flew to cover himself between the legs, the other arm crossing his body; a hopeless attempt to hide.
‘Damn it, I forgot! I’m so sorry.’ He lunged for the curtain.
‘It’s alright, I saw nothing. I promise you.
Here.’ He handed Xian the length of hemp, and the prince grabbed at it like a starved man finding rice.
‘There’s rope over here…we can fashion it well enough to cover you.
I promise. Then I’ll find you something decent to wear.
’ He dashed to the stack of boxes he’d propped himself against earlier, recalling the harsh scratch of rope beneath his hands.
‘How long have I been lying here like this?’ Xian’s distress lifted his voice.
‘Only a few minutes, I promise you.’ Lim quickly untied the rope that had been wrapped around the handle of one of the boxes to provide grip. He walked backwards gingerly; holding out the rope behind him. ‘Here, take this to tie it to you. It is pitch dark anyway. The shadows keep you well hidden.’
In truth, it was dark, but not blindly so, and Lim had definitely noticed the swell of Xian’s arse, the curve of his lower back, and dip of his waist.
Xian took the offered rope, and Lim waited while an emperor’s son dressed himself in dirty cloth and frayed rope.
Those faint cries he’d heard still continued; crowds celebrating…
or screaming as their houses burned. He couldn’t care less which it was; and only hoped Chen knew he’d lost everything in the blaze. He deserved nothing less.
‘Xian,’ he whispered. ‘You know you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘You said you saw nothing!’
‘Well I saw you of course, just nothing that might embarrass you.’
‘Please don’t say anymore.’ The prince made soft sounds of discomfort as he wrapped himself in the curtain.
‘Very well.’ Lim peered down at his tattered clothing. It was not only the prince who needed proper dressing. ‘Can I help you?’
There was a long pause. ‘Why aren’t you afraid.’
‘Afraid?’
‘Of me…of what you must have seen, Lim.’ Xian’s uncertainty was heart-wrenching.
Lim was wary, yes. Confounded, absolutely. Frightened of this man, this fox spirit? No.
‘I have no fear of you, Xian, only of what this all means…for you. Did it hurt you…becoming the fox? And changing back?’
‘You can turn around now.’
Lim wasted no time. He spun on his heels; quietly marvelling that his straw sandals had survived everything he’d endured.
Xian stood wrapped in the curtain, the rope encircling him above his breast but held undone in his hand. His shoulders were bare, his hair wildly mussed, his face wonderfully uncovered.
‘Goddess of Mercy, you are beautiful,’ Lim breathed.
Xian ducked his head, letting his hair hide him away. ‘Could you help me? I cannot tie the rope without letting go of the material.’
‘Of course.’
Lim covered the short distance between them in two great strides. Brushing Xian’s hand as he took the rope.
‘You do not need to lie to me,’ Xian said softly. ‘I imagine I am far from beautiful in this state.’
Lim grunted, his artisan mind at work as he looked the prince up and down, assessing how best to secure his makeshift robe. ‘Well you imagine wrongly then.’ Lim’s gaze fell to his feet. ‘You’ve no shoes!’ As though that were the true horror of the evening.
‘I had to leave the slippers behind…when the change…happened.’
‘Well of course you did.’ Lim nodded firmly, acting as though he’d heard such an excuse before.
‘A fox can hardly run about with sparkling shoes on its paws. That would be extremely strange. But I’ll not have a prince of mine wandering about in bare feet.
Unless…well, do you want to…’ He cleared his throat.
‘Would you rather change again? Perhaps it’s more comfortable for you?
It would solve the problem of clothes…for you at least… I’ll still need to sort myself out—’
‘Lim.’
He raised his gaze to where Xian watched him. He was silhouetted by a distant glow in the sky; one that held tinges of reds and oranges, the hues of fire reflecting off heavy clouds.
‘What is it? Are you in pain?’
‘No,’ Xian said. ‘Well, not much. Nothing you should worry yourself about.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
‘Lim,’ he repeated, firmer this time. ‘I want to ask you something, and you must be honest with me.’
‘Always.’
Xians gathered himself, lifting his shoulders, and pushing his hair clear of his face. His hand shook. Lim dug his fingers into his palms to keep from insisting they move inside the ramshackle abode; for what protection it could offer from the cool evening.
‘Look at me and tell me. Does my face have…’ Xian hesitated before he blurted the rest. ‘Have I any strangeness to me? Do I look like the fox still, in any way? Perhaps whiskers, or…I don’t know, some fur upon me.
Tell me, honestly. I’m too afraid to touch and see for myself.
’ He dragged in a breath; as though he’d just swum from the bottom of a deep lake.
It took monstrous self-control not to draw him into an embrace. Lim would start more cautiously than that.
He gestured to where Xian still clutched the ends of the thin rope. ‘May I?’
Xian nodded. Lim stepped in, taking hold of the fraying ends, their hands touching before Xian moved to press his fingers to the hemp, holding it in place while Lim worked on knotting the rope; the heel of Lim’s hand caressing Xian’s fingertips.
Xian had wound the fabric around his body several times, which made the thickness certain to keep his torso well concealed, but created a length that barely covered to mid-thigh; only just covering the scarring there.
Lim’s gaze traced the line of his body, rising to his face, finding himself watched.
‘Is that too tight?’ he whispered, blaming the huskiness of his voice on the smoke.
‘No. Thank you, its just right.’ Xian didn’t look away. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Lim. Am I as I should be?’
Lim’s belly tightened with the thought of his reply. ‘I would need to touch you, to be sure. Can I do that, Xian?’
The prince was definitely trembling. Lim was not so steady himself.
‘Yes.’ Xian drew in a breath. ‘I won’t bite, I promise you.’
The unexpected lightness had Lim’s laughter barking from him, cut short by protesting lungs. ‘Ugh.’ He pressed at his chest.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so foolish. I’m not myself.’