CHAPTER EIGHT
T he music starts again, breaking the spell.
Swiftly, I move behind a pillar, out of the prince’s sight.
I mustn’t forget why I’m here. Mistress Henglan will be in the less brightly lit areas, in a crowd, easier to lose oneself.
As I search for her, snatches of conversation drift toward me, most of the guests gossiping about one thing: the Prince of the Iron Mountains.
And I find myself listening too attentively.
“Why is His Highness’s coronation delayed? It’s been months since the king’s passing,” a man asks, the large mole on his upper lip quivering.
An older woman flicks her fan across her face. “Our late king stipulated several conditions before the coronation. I hear one of them is for His Highness to choose a suitable bride to ensure the line of succession.”
“Suitable?” a young girl repeats, her eyes bright. “What does that mean?”
“Rich. Titled. Beautiful,” the man lists out in a supercilious tone.
Another woman shakes her head, glancing around like she has a secret. I step closer to listen. “They say His Highness is looking for his bride tonight, one from among the people. That’s why those from the villages and towns were invited—”
The man laughs coarsely, cutting her off. “Royals like him want princesses that smell of flowers and look like fairies. Not someone who stinks of mud and chews with their mouth open.”
My stomach turns like I’ve eaten something bad.
Though I’m wearing a dress as beautiful as any of these nobles’—most days, I’m the girl who smells like mud.
Turning my back on them, I slip into another throng of guests as I comb the hall.
Most of the conversation I overhear follows a similar vein: speculation about the royal family and the reasons for the ball, many bemoaning the recent tax burden, though in hushed tones.
“Yining?”
At that deep, familiar voice, I look up, my eyes meeting those of brown, almost gold in the light.
Jin stands before me, an intimate smile on his lips, his hair grazing the collar of his midnight-blue coat.
I suppress a curse, yet shouldn’t be surprised to see him, with every noble and person of means invited tonight.
He glances at my dress, then back at my face. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“If only you hadn’t,” I say lightly, yet meaning it. I’d rather what happened in the market remain forgotten.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“Not looking for you.”
Rather than being insulted, his mouth slants wider. “I’m hurt.”
“Don’t pretend.”
“Who said I was pretending?” he says, tilting his head back.
He looks at me with such warmth, it’s easy to forget my wariness of him. But the only things I should feel around Jin are caution and a healthy dose of fear. I owe him a debt, but I don’t trust him.
“Do you always speak this way, implying more than you mean?” I ask.
“Do you always imagine the worst of everyone you meet?” he counters.
“I’m rarely disappointed.”
A beat of silence. “I’m sorry for that. You should know better people.”
“Like you?” I laugh, like his words haven’t struck a nerve.
“Definitely not.” He slides a finger over his chin. “You haven’t answered my question: Why are you here?”
“Half the kingdom is here,” I reply evasively. “Why wouldn’t I attend?”
“Do you want to meet the handsome prince?” He smiles, though his eyes remain flat. “Is that why you washed your face and dressed this way?”
An unwelcome reminder that he’s seen me looking far more like a thief than a lady. “How did you recognize me?”
“You left quite an impression, even when painted over.” He taps the mark on his neck where I’d cut him.
I stifle a rash insult. “You look different too, though you sound just the same.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.” He inclines his head. “I must return to my companions; they are waiting for me outside the hall. But when we meet again, it’s safer if we address each other formally, like we haven’t met before.”
“Why? Were you not supposed to be in the village?” I’d like a hold over him, as he has over me.
“Fortunately for you, I was there.” His tone hardens. “It is in both our interests to be discreet.”
Our secret winds between us like a thread, one I should sever before it entangles me.
As he turns from the hall, I continue my search.
At last, a familiar red robe appears, one with a frayed hem.
I fall back at once, shadowing Mistress Henglan from behind.
Though her clothes are plainer than those she mingles among, she carries herself with assurance.
She speaks to a woman with rubies in her ears, who throws her head back and laughs.
Something glints in Mistress Henglan’s palm—her precious dagger.
With a quick jerk of her hand, a jade ornament on her unsuspecting victim’s belt is divested.
Mistress Henglan’s pouch bulges with loot.
She’s being greedy, true to nature. Someone whispers in her ear, a sandy-haired man in a brown robe.
As Mistress Henglan smiles, the man shuffles closer—oblivious as she steals his purse with another flick of her blade.
When Mistress Henglan turns from the man, in search of other prey, he grabs her hand.
“Let me go,” she says sharply.
His smile oozes grease. “You liked my company a moment ago. Why act shy now?”
While she’s distracted, I edge toward her. Just behind, I reach for her pouch, but she swings around, staring at me—the shock in her eyes giving way to fury.
I snatch at the pouch again, but she recovers swiftly to seize my arm, her nails digging into my flesh.
She smiles broadly like I’m a long-lost acquaintance as she pulls me to the side of the hall, behind a pillar.
I don’t struggle or shout; we both know the cost of making a scene when surrounded by guards.
“How did you get here?” Mistress Henglan demands, her voice guttural with menace.
I wrench free of her grip, the memory of Little Dragon’s death haunting me still. I’ll never forgive her for killing it, for all she’s done. “Give back my ring and I’ll leave. You can keep everything you’ve stolen. I won’t say a word.”
“How generous,” she sneers, yet her eyes flick uneasily toward the soldiers. “Where did you steal your dress from?”
“It was a gift,” I reply shortly.
“What did you promise in exchange for it?” Her tone thickens with insinuation.
“Nothing. Not everyone is like you.”
She raises her hand as though to slap me; she’s done so countless times before. But then she drops her arm, glancing at the crowd around us. We’re speaking in hushed voices so no one pays us any attention, but a brawl would draw them like flies to carrion.
“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Go home, wait for me.”
“No.” Sweat breaks out over my body. I’m not used to defying her this way; years of enforced respect and obedience are a heavy cloak to shed.
It would be dangerous to provoke a confrontation here, safer to persuade her, hoping her greed is greater than her spite.
“Step-Aunt, you’ve amassed a fortune tonight.
You can go anywhere, free of all burdens, including me. ”
As her eyes fall to her pouch, I continue quietly like she’s a belligerent customer I’m trying to appease. “My ring is worthless, as you’ve said—of no use to you.”
She shakes her head. “I saw what happened by the pond. The fish is an evil spirit.”
I frown. “Step-Aunt, did you drink any wine before you found me? Are you sure of what you saw or heard?” I’m sowing doubt, trying to confuse her.
“The ring glowed, as did those flowers by the pond.”
“It must have been the moonlight. Those flowers only bloom at night, that’s why they appear unfamiliar.” My lies gain confidence, ringing with sincerity. “Look at the ring. You can’t even get a copper coin for it.”
“Then why do you want it?” she asks with her usual shrewdness.
Because I’ll die without it. “Because it’s the only thing left from the parents I’ve lost,” I say instead. “Give it back to me, Step-Aunt. After tonight, you’ll have enough money—”
She cuts me off with a swipe of her hand. “I won’t let you leave. Family stays together.”
My insides twist into knots. She’s not family; neither of us bound by a wisp of the emotion that gives that bond its meaning. I harden myself, since persuasion isn’t working. “If you don’t return my ring, I’ll expose your thievery tonight. I’ll report you to the soldiers.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
“I’d dare anything. How do you think I got here? What do you think the punishment will be for stealing from the prince’s guests?” I don’t want to do this; it would risk me too, but it’s enough that she believes me.
Her eyes glint with calculation. For the first time, she’s sizing me up as an equal, a foe.
I’m no longer a child to bully but an adversary—one who if pushed too far, will shove right back.
Her fingers shake as she unties her pouch, rummaging through it to pull out my ring.
In her grasp, the band appears like rough wood—the shining stalk withered, the petals so thin they can barely be seen—like a cheap imitation of itself.
Relief surges as I pluck it from her, eager to wear it to banish this sense of loss.
But I hesitate, recalling how the ring glowed when on my finger.
I can’t risk drawing attention to it. Any association with magic is to be feared here, avoided at all costs.
I tuck the ring into my old handkerchief, folding it among the silver. As I turn to leave, Mistress Henglan steps into my path. She hates losing; she hates me. “Where did you steal the silver from?”
“I earned it.” I want to go, but she’s blocking me. “Why do you care when you have a hundred times more in your pouch?”
“Look at you,” she seethes. “Disobedient and rude. You never talked back like this before, you never wanted to leave home or hide your earnings. I was right; the carp was evil. I’m glad I killed it.”