Chapter 22 #2
“What is it?” I asked, momentarily forgetting my own nerves. When he continued to fidget, I reached out and rested my fingers on his knee. He finally stilled and looked at me with a determined tightness in his jaw.
“We don’t have much time left,” he started.
“I promised I’d help you recover the rest of your qi,” I insisted.
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “No, I don’t mean that. I meant you and I—we’ll part ways soon, especially now that my brother’s here.”
“About that—”
“Please, Siying. I’ll be quick.” He covered my hand with his, the heat of his palm noticeably warmer than usual. I tried not to dwell on it as he continued, “I wanted to say thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“You’ve done more for me, it seems,” I said, then caught his look and mumbled a quiet “sorry” before motioning for him to finish speaking.
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Regardless of who’s done what for whom, I’m grateful to you. And I wanted to ask if I could write you once I’m back at the palace and”—he hesitated, cheeks blooming pink—“possibly even visit you from time to time?”
“Visit me?” I blinked. “Why?”
“To see you, of course. To spend time together.”
“Why?” I repeated, even as the thought of him coming to see me kindled a fire between my ribs, the flames flickering against my bones.
He lifted my hand and gently turned it. Then he pressed his lips to my wrist, over the splint that still supported it, the pressure petal-soft.
Even so, I swore I felt my pulse thump. The heat of my blood shot up my arm like a streak of lightning, igniting the fire already smoldering in my chest. When I caught Ren’s eyes, he smiled, knowing I understood.
“I’m falling in love with you, Kang Siying,” he said, his voice unusually quiet and void of mischief. “Is that a good enough reason?”
This boy—this prince—was falling in love with me? How was that possible? Of course I’d considered finding a love match when I was younger. My father had married my mother, after all; it wasn’t uncommon for ganshi priests and priestesses to wed.
But regardless of how well-mannered and comely I made myself, no one wanted their child to associate closely with a future priestess of death. I’d figured I’d eventually find another priest when I was older—after my father retired and Lilan was settled with a respectable match of her own.
Yet here was Ren, a boy from a different world, telling me he cared for me. Asking if he could write to and visit me, of all people.
“We’ve known each other hardly two weeks,” I said dumbly.
“True,” he said. “But we’ve also gone through more together in these two weeks than most people do in a lifetime.”
“But you’re a prince,” I said. “And I’m a priestess. What would people think?”
“A slothful prince,” he said, smiling wryly. “Too insignificant for anyone to think anything.”
“Stop saying that.” I scowled. “You’re not insignificant.”
His smile softened, and he reached for my hand again. “And that’s one of the reasons I like you, Siying. You see me, and you don’t hold back your words with me.”
The fire inside me had grown, scorching my neck and cheeks. “Ren…”
“You know,” he said, looking down, “it’s not lost on me that you’re still letting me hold your hand. And you have yet to tell me you don’t care for me.”
I realized he was right, following his gaze to our interlocked fingers. The room was so warm, as warm as his skin, and my thoughts were a haze. The only sensation I could latch on to was the loud pounding of my heart—and Ren’s tea-black eyes swallowing everything else around me.
He leaned forward, and the air between us flared like a firecracker roll about to combust. My pulse shot to my throat, and I whispered, without thinking, “Do you want to kiss me?”
A faint laugh escaped his lips. “Yes, very much.”
In that moment, I realized I wanted the same—had wanted him for longer than I’d realized.
I held my breath as he grasped my braid and ran his fingers down the length of it, gently tugging me closer. With his other hand, he cradled my chin, steady yet tender.
Just as I was squeezing my eyes shut, the thud of a door sliding shut somewhere in the house startled us both. Anshi’s disapproving face flashed, unwelcome, in my memory, and I jerked back.
“Ren, we—we can’t,” I stammered. “There’s something I have to talk to you about. I know you’ll hate what I have to say, but I must say it, and you must listen. It’s too important.”
Worry drained the blush from his face. “Are you really going to tell me you don’t care for me?”
“It’s not about that.” I shook my head. “In fact, I can’t think about that right now. It’s about your brother.”
His eyes went flat. “Siying, I already told you—”
“Stop.” I started to play with my hair, then caught myself. “First listen to me, all right?”
Listening was clearly the last thing he wanted to do. But seeming to read the anxiety in my eyes, he nodded slowly and said, “All right.”
“You can’t give the seal to your brother or have Anshi give it.
” Sensing his protest, I continued, “I already told you I saw him in Yuyan’s memories at Jing Mansion.
You were right—what I saw could’ve been a misrepresentation.
But what if it wasn’t? Yuyan wasn’t the only one who had a bad impression of your brother.
Master Zhang told me that Liqin personally led the attack against the men of Xiatang.
He murdered his own people for simply disagreeing with the crown. ”
“No,” said Ren, his quiet expiring. “During that time, he was touring the state to learn more about each settlement. How do you know Master Zhang didn’t lie to you too?”
“Both spirits happen to lie about the same person? Besides, you met Master Zhang, Ren. You witnessed his rage, his desire for justice. Do you think he’d lie?”
“No,” Ren admitted, his expression softening as he remembered Xiatang’s former town leader. “But he could’ve been misinformed. He wasn’t involved in the battle himself, so it’s possible, no?”
I resisted the impulse to sigh in frustration. We were wasting precious time by debating. But losing my composure would only antagonize Ren further. Worse, I might say something I’d regret.
“If you’re so confident,” I said, “let me ask you this: Why did your brother not inquire after your talisman? Why didn’t he assume you were a reanimated corpse?”
“He knew I was alive.”
“Yes, through his spies.” It took effort for me to bite back the venom in my throat.
“They must’ve watched us during the length of our travels, which means your brother knew exactly where you were.
So why didn’t he tell everyone you weren’t missing?
Why did he allow the governments of both states to view each other as guilty, thus straining the precious peace that remains? ”
“He … he was likely worried the governor would want to use me as collateral should he know I was in Wen.”
“The governor was already searching for you, and Anshi eventually found you. Your brother could’ve easily defused the situation by telling everyone you were alive and safe. Instead, he let everyone believe you’d vanished, as if he wanted them to assume you were dead.”
Ren laughed mirthlessly. “Why would he do that?”
“Because you’re an obstacle in his path, Ren.
He must’ve realized you took the seal, and that’s why I was sent to retrieve you.
When he discovered you were still alive, though, he decided to come find you himself.
This way, he could claim the seal without anyone finding out that you’d had it before him.
I know you stole it out of spite, but people might think your father gave it to you, considering how secure the seal usually is.
I also know you want to believe it might just be Official Yi plotting this for your brother, but isn’t it more likely that it’s really Prince Liqin who wants to be rid of you? ”
Ren raised his knuckles to his lips. After a contemplative silence, he said, “This is all conjecture, Siying. You can’t be certain what Liqin is guilty or not guilty of.”
“That may be true,” I conceded. “But everything I said about your brother is based on things I’ve heard or seen for myself. I’m pleading with you—don’t give him the seal.”
“What do you want me to do with it, then?” he asked, raking his fingers through his hair. “Give it to the governor of Wen, as Anshi wants?”
“No. Claim it for yourself. Convince your father to choose you as his heir.”
He stared at his knees. “I’ve told you why I can’t be king.”
“I know. And I think you’re a fool to refuse.”
He winced. “I’m a fool for choosing a simpler life? With a girl whose company I enjoy beyond anyone else’s?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, chest aching at his words.
But now was not the time to be selfish. More mildly I said, “This isn’t just about you and me, Ren.
This is about Sian and Wen and the people of both states.
The man who sits on Sian’s throne will determine all our fates.
Do you truly believe your brother is the best person to lead us? ”
“I…” He clasped the back of his neck with both hands, his mouth twisted in a grimace. “I think so. My brother is a good man. He’s never shown me otherwise.”
I frowned. In an ideal world, Liqin would indeed be a suitable heir with the right heart and mindset. If that were the case, Ren would be free to live how he wanted without worrying that his brother would lead the nation astray. He could be free to do what he—or I, or we—wished.
But the world wasn’t that simple, and Ren was the only one able to rightfully take the throne. With the seal in his hands, what happened to the nation was his responsibility.
“What you’re shown isn’t always true,” I said. “I sympathize with your hesitation. I do. But you’ve told me twice that you trust me. I need you to trust me now.”
“That isn’t fair,” he said, giving me a pained look. “Why must I choose between trusting you and my brother?”