CHAPTER NINE
M y mind goes blank as I stand there, still clutching my shoe.
The Prince of the Iron Mountains has allowed me to stay.
Somehow, I’m a guest at the Palace of Nine Hills instead of a prisoner.
The prince must not have seen me steal the invitation, else he’d never have believed my story, even though it was the truth.
“Keep your shoe for now,” Prince Zixin tells me. “I won’t ask for payment yet.”
I slide it back on awkwardly; everyone must be laughing at me. “Where will I stay?” I ask uncertainly. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”
“Anything you need will be provided,” the prince replies, like it’s nothing to him. The Palace of Nine Hills must house hundreds at his pleasure. He nods at the chief attendant. “Prepare a room for our guest in the Pear Blossom Courtyard. She will dine with me tonight.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Chief Attendant Mai bows, though his mouth is clamped thin.
A few attendants are preparing a table beside the prince, others hurrying from the hall. Another ushers me up the dais to take my seat. As I glance at the tray beside Prince Zixin, the one with my handkerchief and silver, he picks them up and offers them to me.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” My fingers graze his palm as I take my belongings, tucking them into my sash.
In the silence, a flush steals over me, a curious light flaring in his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m wondering what it’s like to issue commands and have everyone rush to fulfil them.” It’s the first thing that comes into my mind—also the right one, as his mouth slants into another smile.
He reaches out to pluck a grape from the plate. “It’s new for me too. When my father was alive, they danced to his tune, his orders. As they should for the king.” He says the last with a note of satisfaction, maybe at the power now within his grasp.
“What is your name?” he asks abruptly.
“Yining.” It comes out in a half breath, in a voice that isn’t quite mine. I don’t ask for his name—everyone in the kingdom has known it since his birth. It doesn’t feel real that I’m sitting next to him, the prince of the realm whose face I’d only seen in paintings.
An attendant sets down plates of food before me, my mouth watering at the delicious aromas: roast quail, prawns fried with peppercorns, thin slices of beef, wild mushrooms, and rice.
Only now do I realize how hungry I am, impatient to eat though afraid of appearing greedy, of breaking some unknown rule.
“There are so many dishes. How can I eat everything?” I’m remembering the coarse rice I usually eat, the bony fish and sinewy meat on the days we’re lucky to have it.
While in recent years, Mistress Henglan and I have made a decent living, we’ve never had food like this—not even when my uncle was alive, not even on festival days.
“You’re not meant to eat everything.” He laughs a little. “Anything left will be given to the servants or thrown away.”
It feels wrong to waste such food. I pick up my chopsticks, trying to emulate the manners of those around me.
But most are staring at us—at him—from the honored guests seated closer to the dais, to the countless others clustered around the center of the hall.
Toward the far end, I catch sight of Farmer Lan looking my way, a pinched expression on his face.
At once, I lift my head higher, my smile brightening.
“Does their attention bother you?” Prince Zixin asks, still toying with the grape like he has no intention of eating it.
“Do they always watch you, Your Highness?”
“Those bored with their own lives find thrill in gossiping about others.” As Prince Zixin’s gaze falls to my hands, he frowns. “Your knuckles are bruised.”
I can’t tell him I punched through a window to escape; he wants to be amused, not horrified. I take a mouthful of beef, chewing the tender meat slowly as my mind works. “An accident. I fell when climbing a tree yesterday.”
“Were you hurt? Do you need to see a physician?”
I shake my head, warmth flashing through me at his concern. “Just a few bruises.” My answer is short; I’m hoping he’ll stop asking questions. Too many lies will snare me whole.
“Where are you from?” he wants to know.
“Up north, several hours’ walk from here.” It’s unlikely His Highness has ever visited any of the villages sprawled across the realm.
“What do you do for a living? Do you have a farm or orchard?”
“I tend to our crops, picking the fruit.” I don’t mention the trees aren’t mine. It’s easier to lean into his expectations of a tranquil life in the countryside.
He discards the grape, then runs a finger over the gilded rim of his cup. “It must be peaceful.”
“It’s quiet,” I agree, adding with a grin, “but most of the time you’d be ankle-deep in dirt. It’s hard work from dawn to dusk.” Not as hard as the mines.
“One would be free.”
“One would be poor.” I look around the vast hall with its opulent furnishings, the trays of food carried by the attendants, the skilled musicians plucking stirring melodies from their zithers.
It is every bit as wondrous here as I dreamed.
“There is an old tree near my home, with a good view of your palace. When things got bad, I’d climb up and stare at your home, trying to escape my life by imagining yours. ”
He takes a sip from his cup, his long fingers clasped around it. “Everything seems perfect from the outside—only closer do the flaws emerge.”
This discussion edges perilously close to something real. He speaks with a weight that tugs at my chest like he bears burdens I know nothing about.
“What do you wish for that you don’t have, Your Highness?”
His smile is enigmatic. “Since you’re staying for now, why don’t you take a closer look here? Tell me what flaws you find, and we’ll see if we agree.”
As his mood lightens, everything seems a little brighter. “If I do this, will I still owe you my shoes?”
“Just one. It would make it harder for you to run away.”
I laugh, as he does. “Oh, I’m not planning on running away.”
He leans toward me. “What if you encounter a fearsome beast or monster?”
“Then, yes, I’ll run. Life is too precious for considerations of honor or valor,” I admit.
A beat of silence, his eyes fixed on mine. “I think you’ve seen a monster or two before, and that you didn’t always run.”
I don’t correct him, taking another large mouthful of food while the prince barely touches his.
I should enjoy every bite, each song the musicians play—but my senses are attuned to the one beside me.
I don’t know why I’m here, what he expects of me.
This isn’t as simple as telling someone a quick fortune and never seeing them again.
There is far more at stake; this customer holds my life in his hands.
“I saw you, earlier,” he says abruptly, still looking at me. “Outside the walls.”
A chill sweeps through me as I set down my chopsticks. “I saw Your Highness too, but I didn’t know who you were then.”
“I know.” His piercing gaze seems to soften. “Else you wouldn’t have stolen Lord Chen’s invitation.”
“I don’t know what Your Highness means.” Careless and clumsy, but I’m grasping for the right lies.
“It was well done; he didn’t have the slightest idea.” Prince Zixin raises his cup to me in a toast. “Almost like you’ve done such a thing before.”
He speaks with such certainty there’s no point denying it. I look up at him, my body braced as it does for flight. Yet there’s nowhere to run to, nowhere I’d be safe should he choose to hunt me. “Will you send me to prison? The mines?” I ask in a low voice.
He laughs, the sound easing my tension. “No harm was done. Lord Chen has many friends here who would gladly bring him into the palace.” When I don’t reply, he adds, “I was intrigued that you went to such lengths to attend my ball. I hoped to see you again.”
I nod, still dazed. I did want to see him too, though I’d wanted my ring more. “My step-aunt took our invitation and wouldn’t let me come.”
“Did you know her plan to steal from my guests?” His tone shifts, losing its lightness.
“No,” I protest, though it had been my suggestion. “Why did you believe me, after you’d seen what I’d done?”
“I trust my instincts,” he says somberly. “I sensed you were telling the truth. Nor did you take anything else from Lord Chen—just the invitation.”
I breathe out slowly. The prince isn’t looking at me with condemnation, but with an unreadable light in his eyes. “I didn’t steal Lady Wang’s bangle. I didn’t steal from your guests; I wouldn’t do such a thing.” Only because I’m not as greedy as Mistress Henglan and value my own safety more.
“I believe you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” His words matter, not just because they’ll keep me out of prison—but because I’m starting to want his trust, for him to think well of me.
“Here, you will be under my protection. You will have everything you desire,” he tells me quietly. “And nothing to fear.”
It’s like I’ve gone from winter to spring, the warmth in his words thawing the ice within.
I pick at my food, searching for something to say, suddenly afraid of boring him.
Guards surround a small pedestal on the side of the dais, upon which a crown lies.
It’s crafted of silver-bright iron, sculpted dragons flanking a luminous jewel.
“I’ve seen this in a painting of King Baoyu. What is the stone?” I ask.
“Starfire.” The prince pulls out an iron seal fastened to his waist, exquisitely carved with a chrysanthemum. A stone the size of a marble hangs above it, shining with the same radiance. I clasp my fingers in my lap, resisting the urge to touch it.
“The starfire in the crown belonged to my father. My sister and I each have one, bequeathed to us on our first birthdays. During the coronation, my starfire will be set in the crown.” His finger brushes the jewel on the seal.
“What of the one there now?” I ask.
When he doesn’t reply, I stifle my curiosity, afraid of going too far, being too familiar. “Is it true starfire comes from the skies?”
“Who knows for sure?” His eyes are a fathomless black. “Some say it’s a priceless jewel, others believe it’s a fallen star. Another less pretty story is that the few shards of starfire we’ve found are pieces of a god’s heart, cast down to our world and scattered across the mountains.”
“All myths.” I believe none of them, and it’s safer to deny magic—especially before the prince telling me these tales.
“Perhaps… or perhaps some truths are safer veiled in legend. Less frightening, less real.” He smiles at me, a devastating one that steals my breath. “Which story do you think makes starfire most precious?”
I think over my answer. “A star is beautiful, but the heart of a god… what power might it hold?”
“Likely none, but it’s a good story.” Prince Zixin releases the seal. “Starfire is just another valuable jewel, an exceedingly rare one.”
How much is such a thing worth? I silence the question, asking instead, “How rare?”
“No more than a handful have been found in our mines. Beyond those that belong to my family, the Duke of the Amber Forest and the Lady of the Pearl Ocean each have one, found in the mountains that border their kingdoms.” He adds, his voice hardening, “Our mountains.”
He speaks like he believes all the starfire in the world should belong to him.
The crowd stirs then, their attention shifting toward the entrance.
Soldiers approach, their weapons possessing the darker tint of iron mined outside our borders.
Their black leather armor is engraved with twin spears and a flower, the sight stirring something in me that I can’t pinpoint.
A man strides toward the dais, his hair cut short, a gold circlet holding it in place.
His leather armor is edged in copper, a fur pelt thrown across his shoulders, a beard covering his chin.
“The Lord of Thorn Valley,” the prince tells me, as he sits a little straighter.
Except I’m not looking at the lord but the man who walks behind him, not in armor, but a dark blue robe, his eyes a piercing golden brown.
Jin.