CHAPTER SIXTEEN
H ow long has Prince Zixin been watching me? Did he see Jin? He looks away as he strides toward the dais, his sister just behind him. My heart dips, guilt latching on to me though I’ve done nothing wrong.
At least not yet.
I stand there, unsure of myself—wanting to greet the prince but not knowing if I’ll be welcome. At last, I set my plate down and make my way forward. A crowd of ministers cuts ahead of me, and I slow my stride to fall behind, a little afraid of the prince’s stern expression.
Minister Luk approaches the dais first, holding up a scroll in his hands. “Your Highness, we have received another petition.”
Prince Zixin’s face darkens further. “Where is it from this time?”
“White River Town. They beseech Your Highness for a reduction in taxes after their crops were destroyed by a bad storm.” The minister clears his throat, then continues. “Perhaps we might offer them some relief ? There are fears the farmers will protest.”
“If they do, they will be punished.” The prince’s tone is glacial.
“I’ve had enough of these petitions. The people will learn to respect me, to trust my judgment.
These funds are needed to secure our kingdom’s safety.
If I reduce the taxes for them, all the other towns and villages will demand the same. What will become of our kingdom then?”
Behind him, the chief attendant and the other ministers nod. Minister Luk’s shoulders droop but he bows, backing away from the dais.
Power is meaningless when it destroys those it is meant to protect.
Prince Zixin’s words ring through my mind. The harsh way he speaks of his people, his callousness toward their concerns… he doesn’t sound like the ruler who claimed to want to protect us; he sounds like the one the assassins were trying to kill.
The prince’s gaze locks on to mine abruptly.
At once, I straighten, letting my hand brush my dagger—an intentional reminder of his gift, of what we’ve been through.
He hesitates, then gestures for me to approach.
As I make my way toward him, lowering myself in a bow, he dismisses the ministers around him.
My eyes go right to his shoulder as I rise, his injury concealed beneath the white brocade. “How is your wound, Your Highness?”
“Better, after the chief physician’s treatment.” As I sit beside him, his gaze slides to the jeweled dagger by my waist. “Did you like my gift?”
“It’s beautiful. Your Highness is most thoughtful.”
“Such metal is rare, stronger than ordinary iron.” A pause, his voice deepening as he adds, “But I hope you will never need to use it.”
“If I do, I’ll be able to free Your Highness more quickly next time.” A subtle reminder of how I helped him, to quell any lingering suspicions. Yet the recollection of the assassins sits uneasily with me—the life I took—even though they would have killed me too.
“There will not be a next time.” His face hardens as though carved from stone. “The assassins’ origins are being investigated. We will learn who is at the root of these despicable plots and rip them out, one by one. None will escape, not even their kin.”
I recoil from the brutality of his threat. “Why their families? What if they’re innocent?”
“If you pluck a flower but leave its root, another will bloom. Its seeds will scatter, borne by the wind, hidden away… until a garden blossoms.” His tone is emotionless like he’s reciting an old lesson.
Dread writhes within as I clasp my hands, the bangles on my wrists starting to feel like shackles. “Your Highness, you have been so kind,” I begin carefully, to edge into my request. “The dagger is a generous gift.”
“You deserve far more for risking your life for mine.” His voice warms. “What else do you desire? There is nothing I cannot give you.”
My imagination soars with thoughts of gold, of jade, pearls, and shining iron. Yet the mark on my finger sears—a reminder of what I need most. What use is gold if I’m dead?
“My ring, Your Highness.” I brace myself as a frown puckers his brow. “It was given to me by—”
“Not yet.” He speaks coldly, just as when I asked for it by the lake. “It will be returned when I choose.”
He doesn’t want to return it. Does he like this hold over me? All the talk of the investigation, was it an excuse to brush me off ? The thought is a thorn wedged in my chest.
Attendants approach, laying down skewers of meat, plump scallops, roasted pigeon, flower-shaped cakes, more elaborate dishes than those set on the tables—yet my appetite is gone.
In the silence, Prince Zixin leans against his chair. “Why was Lord Chao’s advisor with you? Did you know him before?”
At once, I’m guarded. “I’ve only seen him briefly at the ball, when he spoke to Your Highness. He came up and introduced himself just now.”
“What did he want?” His eyes don’t leave my face, like he’s searching for something, whether a reason to trust me or to pick out the lies.
“Nothing in particular.” I tilt my head like I’m trying to remember, like it didn’t mean anything.
“He asked where I was from, about my family. He told me he used to live on a farm in Thorn Valley, and we spoke at length about the crops we’d grown.
He seems nice.” My face falls then. “I don’t know many people at court.
Until today, I’ve kept to my rooms for my lessons and meals.
The few I’ve encountered… are not always as gracious as Your Highness. ”
“Who insulted you?” he asks in a wintry tone. “Tell me, and I will ensure they never dare do so again.”
A heady rush fills me—yet I hesitate, thinking of the ruthless way he treats those who cross him. “I can look after myself, Your Highness.”
The barest arch of his lips as his gaze slides to my dagger again. “I know you can. I like that you can look after me too.”
I smile, as he expects, yet it feels wooden and stiff.
“Be careful of those from Thorn Valley, especially that advisor,” the prince warns. “He’s devious; he might try flattery or bribes to trick you into doing something you shouldn’t.”
“You don’t trust them,” I say carefully. “Yet they are allies, your honored guests.”
“We need them. At least for now.”
The prince’s expression is grim, almost threatening.
This alliance isn’t meant to last, a thin veil that will be ripped away during the first storm.
Perhaps it was only stitched together from mutual need: the desire of Thorn Valley for the promised starfire in return for shielding us from Mist Island.
Yet another reason to be wary of accepting Jin’s offer, of siding with Thorn Valley.
It’s not loyalty that binds me; I feel little of it to a kingdom I’ve spent most of my life fearing and resenting.
But I won’t betray the Iron Mountains lightly; their blades are the sharpest in the realm. And if I ever do… I can’t get caught.
“Don’t speak to the Thorn Valley advisor again,” Prince Zixin tells me. “If you want companions, seek Madam Lau’s or the chief attendant’s guidance for who would be suitable.”
His tone is authoritative, almost patronizing, like I’m a child whose friends he’s selecting. The air seems to constrict around me as my body tenses. Words surge up that I force back down. While I say nothing, neither do I nod obediently—as he expects.
Prince Zixin’s eyebrows arch, maybe reading my expression. “I suggest this for your own good. You are new at court; you must guard your reputation here. It reflects on those around you, raising or lowering the prominence of those who serve you… and those whom you serve.”
A blunt reminder of our positions. I breathe deeply to stop from spiraling, as Prince Zixin stretches out his hand. “I grow weary of this conversation. Walk with me in the garden.” His smile softens the hard planes of his face, but their edges have been shown.
I gesture at my untouched food. “I don’t feel like walking, Your Highness. I haven’t eaten yet.” A small rebellion on my part, a release to the emotions simmering within.
“Why don’t you eat later?” he suggests.
“Your Highness has already told me whom I should speak to. Is Your Highness also telling me when I should eat?” I laugh like it’s a joke but stop when his smile vanishes. I bend my head, suddenly all too aware that he holds my life in his hands. “I will obey Your Highness’s wish.”
“I’m not asking you to obey,” he says tersely.
“Yet you’re commanding me.” I speak quietly, conscious of the stark silence in the hall. “How would Your Highness feel if our positions were reversed?”
“We are not the same—”
His voice cuts off but it’s too late, anger crowding me like smoke. We aren’t the same… but not the way he thinks.
A young serving girl hovers by the prince’s elbow, holding a teapot to refill his cup.
Her presence breaks the tension, allowing me to gather myself before I say or do something that can’t be undone.
As Prince Zixin shoves his chair back abruptly, he knocks into the girl.
Her hand shakes, spilling tea over the prince’s arm, reddish-brown streaks seeping into his white sleeve.
He hisses, his face twisting with discomfort.
“Fetch cold water and towels. His Highness is scalded!” the chief attendant barks, hurrying to Prince Zixin’s side.
Attendants rush forward, one pressing a cold towel to his arm, another wiping down his robe.
Some of the guests closer to the dais exchange startled glances and whispers.
As soldiers grab the serving girl, the teapot falls from her hands to shatter on the ground, dark liquid pooling amid the fragments.
Stumbling forward, she drops to her knees.
“Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness,” she stammers, barely able to form the words.
“The punishment for injuring His Highness is twenty lashes of the whip,” Chief Attendant Mai declares.
The color leeches from the girl’s face. A memory flashes of how Mistress Henglan used to strike me, the cane splitting my skin. Such pain, though I’d learned to choke back my screams. But what lingers beyond the marks is the indignity that doesn’t fade.
Fighting my fear, I rise to my feet unsteadily. “It was an accident, Your Highness.”
Princess Chunlei shoots me a warning look. “Brother, such punishment is too harsh.”
A few ministers nod, but this only seems to stir Prince Zixin’s annoyance, his brows snapped together.
Chief Attendant Mai bows to the prince. “Your Highness, there are no exceptions. Your honored father decreed that nothing is accidental when it comes to the safety of our monarch. These are the rules of court.”
As two soldiers seize the serving girl, her frantic gaze meets mine. Sweat slides down her face as a keen cry slips from her throat—the shrill, sharp sound of terror. They drag her away, her body going limp.
Minister Luk shakes his head, the expressions of some courtiers ranging from revulsion to fear.
My eyes are damp, but I force myself to sit back down.
This is a terrifying reminder of how powerless I am here, a vicious lesson to not overstep—and for the first time since entering the palace, I pity the people within.
Lord Chao sneers as he raises a cup to his mouth. “The justice of the Iron Mountains takes away my appetite.”
“Surprising, when few things seem to,” Prince Zixin snaps. “What of the reputation of Thorn Valley? Brutally murdering innocents, slinging their bodies over our border.”
As I flinch from these accusations, Lord Chao stands abruptly.
“We don’t hurt the helpless or innocent.
Those who trespass into our land know exactly what they’re doing.
Perhaps Your Highness is mourning the loss of your spies.
” This is another side to the boorish one he shows, tension spearing the air.
As Jin lays a hand on Lord Chao’s shoulder, the Lord of Thorn Valley takes his seat again.
“Your Highness, the Iron Mountains is our valued ally. We never intend to harm your people,” Jin says calmly, addressing the prince.
“But those who break our rules must be punished, just as you punish those who break yours.” Jin’s gaze slides to the porcelain shards on the floor.
“If they choose to trespass where they’re forbidden, after they’ve been warned—consequences must be borne. ”
They glare at each other, eyes of ebony and those of gold. The court stills at the animosity unleashed between the Iron Mountains and Thorn Valley, one that used to be tethered beneath a veneer of amicability. Fickle. Fragile. False? Should it break, war will erupt.
At last, a frigid smile stretches across Prince Zixin’s face. “We agree with our allies that rules must be obeyed, else chaos will ensue.”
Relief sweeps through the guests. Disaster has been averted; they are safe for now… except the serving girl’s cries still ring in my ears.