CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
T onight, I dressed to draw attention. My outfit is different from the high-waisted and flowing styles the Iron Mountains court favors, closer to the more fitted designs of what is worn in the Amber Forest. Tiny seed pearls are sewn on the sea-green silk, a crimson sash knotted around my waist. Jade combs are tucked into the black coils of my hair, my lips reddened with balm.
Dian’s amethyst ring with the night-root powder glitters from my hand, her pouch of herbs discreetly fastened by my waist.
Nights feel darker in the Palace of Nine Hills with its black roofs and stark walls, the dimly lit paths away from the main buildings.
I follow the strains of music that thread the quiet, leading me better than my eyes toward the dining hall.
Tonight, it is lit by hundreds of candles, their golden light spilling through the latticed doors.
Closer to the entrance, the rich scent of magnolias wafts from the branches crammed into vases.
The marble floor gleams, the carpet rolled away.
Unlike in the day, when the mahogany tables are laden with food, tonight’s affair is more formal, with the guests seated along the walls.
Attendants weave among them, serving plates of roasted quail, pickled jellyfish, scallops in their shells.
The silk hangings that flutter from the wooden pillars are strung with copper bells that tinkle with the breeze.
As I step into the hall, Prince Zixin’s eyes flick toward me.
His white brocade robes are fastened with a silver sash, his hair swept into a topknot and tucked into a headpiece of iron and lapis.
He straightens slowly, his hands sliding along the armrests of his throne.
My feet halt instinctively, but I push myself onward.
Tonight, I will leap into the current to see where it bears me—yet I won’t let myself drown.
Ruilin inclines her head at me, her pink gown matching the tourmalines that adorn her brow, arranged in the pattern of a lotus.
Princess Chunlei is absent, a relief that she won’t witness me making a fool of myself.
Without her presence, General Xilu watches me from the other side of the hall, his eyes pinched.
His hand brushes the hilt of his sword like he’s thinking of cutting me with it.
Right now, I’d rather be stabbed than go through with what I have planned.
One of the Thorn Valley soldiers calls out Jin’s name. My head swings involuntarily but I stop myself in time. Prince Zixin sees shadows everywhere. While his coldness has thawed, he’s not forgiven me yet.
As I sink into a low bow before the prince, he gestures to the seat beside him. “Sit with me.” It’s not a request, but even if it were, I wouldn’t turn him down tonight. “You are late. I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.”
I stitch on a bright smile. “Why would I stay away? I’ve been gone long enough.” Deliberate words, offering an opening for him to speak his mind—to yank any lingering mistrust out into the open.
As I sit down, an attendant fills my plate with food. I eat everything, despite a lack of appetite. A full stomach is vital for tonight. Prince Zixin’s mouth thins as he glances at Jin, then back at me. “Did you enjoy your travels?”
I grimace like he wants me to. “The company was dull, we slept on the ground, our food was tasteless, and there was little chance to bathe or rest.”
Prince Zixin’s eyes are as opaque as ink. I can’t read him tonight, not since I returned. “Then why did you do it? Why did you go?”
I clasp my hands, folding my shoulders inward. “I’d never been outside the Iron Mountains. I’d heard the Amber Forest was a place of wonder, but… it’s nothing like your palace, Your Highness.”
His lips roll tighter; he doesn’t believe me. “There is another reason.” My voice drops like I’m embarrassed. “Your Highness honored me above all others, but many in your court disdained me. When you spoke of our future, I felt overjoyed… but also unworthy, without position or wealth of my own.”
“Who?” His tone ripples with menace. “Tell me who insulted you, give me each name.”
I recall how Anli was whipped for spilling tea on him, the harsh fine imposed on Lord Liuming for his insult. But I need to give the prince reason to believe me, to think I’m not holding back anymore.
“Lord Liuming.” I offer the one he’s already punished. “There are others whose names I don’t know.”
“If anyone dares to disrespect you again, come to me at once.”
I let his gaze penetrate mine. “Your Highness has already given me so much; I didn’t want to be a burden. I wanted to win Your Highness’s respect, to prove to your court I deserved your favor.” Practicing these lies has given them the cadence of truth.
He drums his fingers on the table in a steady rhythm. “I’d already offered you a place by my side.”
“You offered me a place as one of your consorts, Your Highness,” I counter.
Prince Zixin stills. This catches his attention, perhaps answering something in his mind. He is arrogant enough to believe I’d want him all to myself; preferable to imagining I didn’t want him before.
“You want to be queen?” he asks in silken tones. Such ambition, he’d understand.
I take a sip of wine to loosen the words I must utter.
“I want to be the most important person to you,” I lie earnestly.
“Not one of many, easily discarded or forgotten. I want to matter, to be more than what everyone thinks of me—the lucky and undeserving girl who caught your eye, whom you raised above others. Though I have neither rank nor wealth, I want to earn my own. I have my pride too.”
His mouth arches into a slow smile, the one that once made my heart quicken. He’s looking at me like he used to—no longer cold and guarded, but curious. Intrigued. “Wasn’t there another way without risking your life? Weren’t you afraid of fighting General Xilu, of the magic-wielder?”
“When Your Highness proposed so unexpectedly, it filled me with urgency—because I wanted to accept. Maybe my haste clouded my judgment… but you spoke so warmly of how I defended you against the assassins before. I wanted to prove I could do more, to help fend off all our enemies.” My tone pulses with sincerity as I hone the rumors he’s heard into lies he wants to believe.
Prince Zixin leans closer until his breath grazes my cheek.
“What of the Thorn Valley advisor whom you spoke at length with before? Did you learn more about him after your travels together?” His tone shifts, darkening.
He doesn’t seem to care about Lord Chao but for some reason, Jin stirs his anger.
“I did.” I catch the prince off guard with my admission. “I learned he’s a liar and a cheat, and not to be trusted. He proposed the idea to me, to challenge General Xilu to secure my position. He said Your Highness would approve—and I was stupid enough to believe him.”
He’s watching me intently. “Tell me, what did the advisor promise you? Did he ask you for anything else?” His voice grows dangerously soft.
Careful. I can’t appear that Thorn Valley has a hold over me.
“If I helped them win against General Xilu, the advisor promised me wealth of my own. I also believed I’d be helping Your Highness by rescuing the duke’s daughter.
I wanted to use the money for… a dowry.” I look down, flushing at these loathsome insinuations.
“He promised the journey would be safe. But I fell into a swamp crater, I was hurt.” I pull up the hem of my robe to reveal the marks ringing my ankle, careful to conceal the dagger strapped to my calf.
“Now, he’s refusing to give me the gold I was promised until Duke Yuan relinquishes the starfire. ”
Lies, so many of them that I must be careful not to trap myself. After what they did to my mother, I feel no remorse—just a keen, bitter eagerness to strike back.
When the prince smiles this time, it reaches his eyes. “Don’t worry about the duke and the Thorn Valley advisor. You don’t need wealth to win my favor.” He pauses, then adds, “It is already yours.”
My chest constricts, but I harden myself to hold his gaze, smiling with every bit of falseness I can muster. “Your Highness is kind.”
“I am not,” he tells me. “Only to those that matter.”
A beat of silence falls. I should draw this moment out, mold his declaration into an opportunity.
“Are you still unhappy about your ring?” he asks suddenly.
Another test? “Your Highness knows I want it back. I don’t like things taken from me without reason, or when games are played that I don’t know the rules of.” Prince Zixin would be suspicious of unwavering compliance.
“If you are honest with me, I will be honest with you.”
I don’t think he’d like my honesty. “Do you trust me, Your Highness?” I turn the question back to him.
“I want to.”
“As I do you, Your Highness,” I reply. “But you’re asking for something you don’t want to surrender yourself. If you trust me, why keep my ring? Why set a price for its return?”
This time, he looks away. I must try harder to win him over. “Shall we play a game?” I suggest lightly, once our plates are cleared. “One where we both know the rules?”
“A game?” he repeats, his brow creasing. “I don’t know many of them.”
“How about dice? The highest number wins; the loser drinks a cup in penalty. No skill is required, just luck.”
As he nods, an attendant sets before us a mother-of-pearl dice shaker and a porcelain bowl, along with a trio of onyx dice. Prince Zixin flings them into the bowl. Fourteen points. I pick up the dice and toss them with abandon. One six and two fives.
When Prince Zixin takes a sip of wine, I tap his arm. “You need to finish your cup,” I remind him in a tone that grates on my own nerves. “Otherwise, it’s not a penalty.”
“As long as you’ll play by the same rules.” He drains the cup, toying with the stem. “Your mood is different tonight.”
“I’ve decided to worry less about tomorrow, to only care about today.”
He sets his cup down, an attendant rushing to refill it. “I like you this way.”
Amusing, attentive, and obedient?
We play another round, and this time, I lose.
I drink the wine, burning down my throat—both pungent and sweet.
Fortunately, I’ve taken herbs to protect me from its effects, along with the antidote to Dian’s sleeping powder.
I need to act quickly before they wear off.
When I set the cup down, I sway like I’m dizzy.
“Do you want to stop?” Prince Zixin asks.
I shake my head. We play several rounds; I lose more than I win.
But tonight, I’ll make my own luck. My mind remains clear though my cheeks are warm from the wine, my speech slurring a little.
Prince Zixin is smiling more, his face flushed.
When he hands me another cup as a penalty, his fingers brush mine—then linger.
Everyone is staring at us, ignoring their food: Ruilin’s eyes are wide, some of Princess Chunlei’s ladies whispering among themselves, along with the younger nobles.
Those older look away studiously. The chill of their scorn settles over me like frost. I can’t look at Jin right now; I must play to win.
I edge closer to Prince Zixin, letting our arms graze, then shift away. Heat sparks, a trace of the accursed attraction I’d felt for him once. I should hate him—I do. I just have to keep reminding myself of it, to not be snared in the farce I’m weaving.
I tilt my head back, closing my eyes partway—my heart beating in a skittering, frantic rhythm. These games of the heart are still unfamiliar, I’m grasping at the little I know… though it all feels wrong. “Your Highness, is there somewhere I can rest? Someplace quiet?”
He nods to an attendant. “Prepare a bowl of broth to be delivered to Miss Yining’s chamber. It will help with the headache.” He rises and offers me his hand. “I will walk you back,” he says, misunderstanding my intent.
His solicitousness surprises me. But I don’t want this right now; I want him to be a villain, to loathe him unwaveringly.
I look directly at him. “Is there a place we can speak, where we won’t be disturbed?”
Prince Zixin smiles, a knowing one, like he’s received many such invitations. “Send the bowl to my chambers,” he orders the attendant.
Even with Dian’s herbs, the warmth of the wine seeps into me, my head beginning to spin.
Quickly I reach for an apricot, biting into the soft flesh.
It tastes like honey as I lick the juice from my lips.
The prince’s gaze is riveted on my mouth.
As I wipe my fingers against a piece of silk—he catches my hand, his thumb gliding across my wrist in a firm stroke.
“Are you still hungry?”
I shake my head. His grip tightens yet is still light enough that I can pull away. The strength has fled my limbs as I follow him down the dais, trailed by his attendants and guards. I stumble once, unintentionally, Prince Zixin’s hand moving up my elbow to steady me, his eyes meeting mine.
For a moment, I’m caught in his fathomless gaze, traveling through the past—imagining we aren’t who we are, that his father didn’t kill my mother, that his family isn’t trying to destroy my home, that he isn’t caging the dragon in the seal and keeping my ring from me…
that he’s the prince I’d dreamed of, who’d lift me from life’s troubles rather than being the root of them.
But I can’t be a fool anymore, believing in fairy tales. Life has become too dangerous for them.