CHAPTER NINETEEN
I spend two loathsome days in my rooms, during which I fret and curse in between enduring Madam Lau’s lessons.
Each time I stare at the mark on my hand, grim scenes of impending death haunt me.
The pain has begun to intensify; I must now take some corydalis root to dull it.
Part of me wishes I never accepted the flower from Little Dragon.
But when I recall how it wound around my ring, the wholeness I’d felt, I can’t regret it.
Tonight the evening skies are dusted with stars, circling the curve of the moon. I sit in my courtyard among the trees because it helps me feel less trapped. Yet the pear blossoms are beginning to wither, dropping to the grass like snow.
Fear festers, tangled with anger. Prince Zixin should have summoned me by now. To get out, I’m prepared to tell him any lies he wishes—to even grovel and flatter, burying my pride to stay alive. Though I won’t be his consort… I’m not above pretending if I must.
It’s a delicate balance, precarious too.
The prince would be furious at my refusal, yet right now this remains between us.
However, if I pretend to accept his offer, I risk insulting him publicly once I escape.
He’d never forgive it, he would hunt me down—a formidable enemy.
I have to get out before that happens, but I must first retrieve my ring.
What I need is an ally, a powerful one willing to defy Prince Zixin’s wishes—and I won’t find him while trapped in my courtyard.
My lilac brocade gown is threaded with silver, a red sash knotted around my waist. Pearls are clasped around my neck, small ones, luminous as drops of rain.
I walk to the Hall of White Pines where the prince is hosting yet another banquet, trying not to think of what I must do, of all the things that could go wrong.
The pale roof shines from afar, the vast gardens beyond surrounded by trees with feathery leaves, their crisp scent a welcome change from the sandalwood incense.
Lanterns shaped like small gourds swing from their branches, silk peonies scattered across the lawn.
Servants stream into the hall bearing trays laden with food: a whole suckling pig, steamed prawns, scallops in their shells, rice crackers drizzled with honey, walnut cakes, and persimmons.
When Prince Zixin enters the garden—I step out, moving into his path. Some of his attendants look at me with pinched expressions. I fit into none of their rules: neither beautiful, nor rich, nor powerful enough for the favor shown to me. When they see me, they probably wonder: Why not them?
Prince Zixin’s white robe is embroidered with gold cranes, his hair held up with an iron headpiece. For the first time, his beauty doesn’t move me—he’s right, that only closer do the flaws emerge.
Still, I smile like he’s the radiant sun. As I approach and bow, he gestures for his attendants to move away. A relief that they can’t hear us, yet their eyes watch our every move.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he tells me.
I swallow the bitterness that coats my throat. “If I’ve displeased Your Highness, I am sorry.” Somehow, I sound like I mean it.
“Is that so?” His manner is still cold.
“I regret how you left that night, leaving so much unsaid.”
A pause. “What do you wish to say to me now?”
“Your offer was a surprise, Your Highness. I never expected you would consider me… that way. There is still so much I must learn from Madam Lau to fit into your court, to be seen as worthy of Your Highness.” I’ve practiced these loathsome words in the mirror until they flow smoothly.
He reaches out, brushing a lock of hair from my face. I ignore the ripple through my skin, restraining myself from swatting his hand away. “I like you—as I’ve said. You are resourceful, brave, and honest. Anything else that is lacking can be learned.”
Prince Zixin is not a good judge of character if he believes me honest; the lies I’ve told him would fill a book. “Your Highness is kind,” I murmur.
“I feel at ease with you. It’s rare that I feel this way about anyone.” He takes my hand, stiff in his grasp. “Here, you will have all the instruction you need, not just on etiquette. You can learn anything you desire that befits your new position, whether music, painting, or embroidery.”
My smile grows strained. It’s like he wants to mold me into someone who not only amuses him, but also possesses the refinement of one of the ladies at court.
He doesn’t want me as I am but as who he thinks I should be.
It rankles—yet to secure my freedom, I must remain in his favor without promising myself away.
“Allow me some time to continue my studies, Your Highness. This way, I can learn at my pace, rather than be thrust too soon into the glare of any new position—”
“A few weeks then, in time for my coronation,” he suggests with an indulgent smile. “You have no reason to doubt yourself. As my consort, you will have the pick of the finest rooms, any treasure you desire, a place of honor by my side. No one will dare insult you again.”
A hollow feeling, that once not so long ago, I was tempted by everything he offers. Right now, all I want is to refuse and keep my head on my neck. I want to ask about my ring, but he’s denied me twice, and I can’t risk angering him again.
My gaze slides across the guests who are streaming into the hall, searching for Jin.
“Who are you looking for?” Prince Zixin’s tone is deceptively mild.
“Daiyu.” It’s the first name that slips into my mind, a safe one. “I met her the day of the ball. Is she a suitable companion for me, Your Highness?” I speak brightly, almost teasingly, to lighten the mood.
“Her family is invited; she will be inside the hall.” He inclines his head toward the entrance. “You may enter with me tonight.”
I follow him, as pliant as the hem of his robe fluttering around his ankles.
Yellow silk lanterns are strung along the pillars, illuminating the hall with their golden hue.
Embroidered tapestries hang from the walls, sewn with turquoise phoenixes and blood-red suns.
Peonies are clustered in gilded vases, laid onto the small tables surrounding the hall—most already occupied by guests, eating or talking among themselves.
As I walk behind Prince Zixin, I slow my pace to widen the gap between us.
Minister Luk frowns at the sight of me, as does the chief attendant, while Princess Chunlei nods.
Fortunately, those from Thorn Valley are present, seated just below the dais.
Lord Chao’s attention remains fixed on the food, while Jin’s eyes trail me, pale gold in the light.
I avoid looking at him as I walk past, then purposefully tilt my head toward the entrance doors. Moments later, a young attendant appears, offering me a cup of tea, a small piece of folded paper beside it. Taking the cup, I slip the paper into my palm, unfolding it discreetly.
The pine tree with nine lanterns.
I crumple the message, tucking it into my sash.
Not yet, it would rouse Prince Zixin’s suspicions.
Fortunately, he is speaking intently to a minister, his attention diverted.
To the side, I catch sight of Daiyu, her dress the color of the sky, gold combs tucked into her hair, thin iron bangles stacked along her wrists. As she waves to me, I walk toward her.
“I’m glad you joined us,” she says warmly, then gestures at the girl beside her, whose generous curves are draped in a gown of pink brocade. “This is Mengli.”
As I greet them, their eyes dart to the entrance. I turn to see Lord Liuming entering the hall. He scowls at the sight of me, then abruptly stalks away.
Daiyu gnaws her lip. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I tried to talk Lord Liuming out of it, but he’s related to Lady Wang, who still believes you’re a thief. As a younger son, he won’t inherit his family’s wealth. He’s trying to gain favor with her to secure a slice of her inheritance.”
“By insulting me?” I ask.
“Those unhappy with their own lives tend to take it out on others.”
“Not everyone.” I won’t excuse him. “Unkindness is a choice.”
Mengli sniffs. “Did you hear His Highness imposed a fine of a hundred gold pieces as recompense for insulting you? Lord Liuming will need to beg his father for aid.”
How cunning of the prince to turn an insult to me into an opportunity to enrich his treasury.
“Your dress is beautiful. It looks like Mina’s work,” Daiyu tells me as she adjusts the collar of her own gown.
“She took one look at me and decided I needed help,” I say with a laugh.
Daiyu sighs. “I wish Mina had time for me.”
“You don’t need help; you’re beautiful in anything you wear,” I tell her honestly.
“Thank you. You are lovely too.” Graciously, she extends my compliment. As she and Mengli exchange glances, Daiyu adds, “We heard a rumor that you are one of His Highness’s chosen consorts?”
I smother a curse, keeping a blank smile on my face. “If that were true, wouldn’t His Highness announce it?”
“I told you it was false,” Daiyu’s friend interjects, looking at me just as most do here, their curiosity tinged with disdain. “If anyone secured an offer from His Highness, they’d be clever enough to declare it before he changes his mind.”
“Yes, they would,” I say forcefully, ignoring the slight. If I can guard Prince Zixin’s pride, I just might keep my head.
As Lord Chao calls loudly to an attendant for more wine, Daiyu wrinkles her nose. “Why does the Lord of Thorn Valley drink so much?”
“Can he remain sober long enough to participate in the tournament? He won’t be much of a challenge to General Xilu,” Mengli says.
“I hear Lord Chao is more than General Xilu’s match,” Daiyu remarks.
Mengli grins, a dimple appearing in her cheek. “I also hear he chases any girl who looks at him too long.”
“Who looks at him with his advisor there?” Daiyu replies.