CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I ’m lying on the bed, shivering and aching all over, the pain in my head intensifying.
My hand is clenched by my side to hide the marks, so dark they appear black in the dim light.
A biting cold suffuses me, even as my body burns.
I can’t seek relief in Dian’s medicine yet, the bottle almost empty. I must save it for my escape.
Shan hurries into my room, his face creased with worry. Since my symptoms have worsened, those I can no longer hide, he’s been fluttering around me, fetching water, fruit, and medicine—all of which I’ve refused.
“Prince Zixin is on the way. He’s bringing the royal physician.” His voice is hushed like he doesn’t want to disturb me.
I curse the prince inwardly, wishing he’d stay away. Most would, for fear of contagion, but Prince Zixin is probably arrogant enough to believe he’s invulnerable. At least I don’t have to pretend to be ill; one look at me should convince him of it.
As Shan offers me a damp washcloth to clean my face, the door swings open without the courtesy of a knock. Prince Zixin enters, followed by the royal physician, the one who inspected Daiyu. Six attendants follow them, their heads bowed though their ears are undoubtedly pricked up.
“I hear you are ill.” The prince strides toward my bed, a silver-and-black overcoat thrown over his white robe.
His gaze rakes me, taking in my pallor, the way my chest strains as it rises and falls.
His mouth twists as though torn between concern and suspicion.
“I summoned the royal physician to treat you.”
To expose me as a fraud? I smile wanly, hiding clenched teeth. No physician can help me, but maybe this will convince the prince to leave me alone. “Your Highness is considerate. I am honored.”
“Miss Yining has been unwell since yesterday,” Shan replies, helping me without knowing it. “Her appetite has been poor.”
“Miss Yining, will you tell us your symptoms?” the royal physician asks.
“My head hurts,” I say weakly. “My body aches. I feel cold and tired.”
He extends his weathered palm to me. “May I take your pulse?”
I offer the royal physician my right hand, my other tucked beneath me. He frowns as he checks my pulse, then releases my hand to touch my brow. Finally, he asks me to open my mouth, inspecting my tongue and throat.
“Miss Yining is gravely ill,” he proclaims at last. “She has all the symptoms of fever, yet her body isn’t warm. Perhaps she is still fighting the infection, causing her temperature to rise and fall erratically. Her body is very weak, like she’s been suffering awhile.”
“Is she in danger?” Prince Zixin’s tone is tense, no longer tinged with disbelief.
The physician strokes his beard. “From her symptoms, this appears to be a severe infection. She must take the medicine that I prescribe. Rest is essential, she needs to sleep as much as she can.”
Shan is pale as he bows in acknowledgment. “I will ensure she does.”
The prince frowns. “She must be well for my coronation.”
Despite my discomfort, anger flares. “I can’t govern my illness, Your Highness.”
“If Miss Yining is unwell, it would be dangerous for her to attend Your Highness’s coronation—not just for her health but for the court,” the royal physician cautions. “Illnesses spread quicker in crowded surroundings.”
“I don’t want to risk infecting anyone.” I cough loudly, then add, “I’ve found it hard to sleep with the soldiers right outside.”
Prince Zixin swings to his attendants. “Order the guards to keep their distance from Miss Yining’s room and to avoid any unnecessary noise. She is not to be disturbed.”
I drop my eyes to conceal my relief, but to my horror, Prince Zixin pulls a stool over and sits beside my bed. “The rest of you are dismissed.”
The royal physician hesitates. “Your Highness, the lady’s illness is contagious. You must think of your health—”
“I will stay,” Prince Zixin says coldly.
“No.” I soften my protest with another frail smile. “The royal physician is right. What if you fall sick before your coronation, Your Highness?”
Prince Zixin leans closer, bringing his face to mine. “Then you will need to look after me.”
There are few things I’d like less. But I blink like my mind is slipping, pretending not to hear.
“She is tired, Your Highness,” the royal physician reminds him tentatively.
Prince Zixin’s jaw tightens. “I will stay until the medicine is prepared.”
He dismisses the physician and his attendants with a curt nod. Once they leave, Prince Zixin picks up the discarded washcloth and dips it into a bowl of water. He wrings it dry, then places it on my forehead, a cool relief seeping through me.
“My aunt used to do this when I had a fever,” I say drowsily, wanting to resent it but feeling too weak—almost grateful for his care.
“Then you had a good childhood where you were looked after.” He pauses, then adds, “I didn’t believe it when they said you were ill again, but you’re not the type to hide behind such a farce.”
As he reaches for my hand, I shift onto my side, drawing away. “Your Highness must keep a safe distance to avoid falling ill.”
“One day,” he says in a low voice, “you’ll let me look after you like I want to.”
I close my eyes to hide the flash of resentment, how he assumes his wants and desires should be mine too.
The ache in my body is surrendering to fatigue; I’m struggling to stay awake.
I won’t think about how gentle his hand felt on my brow, or how his voice roughened with concern.
My mother died within these walls… they won’t claim me too.
The moment Prince Zixin leaves, I scramble out of bed, feeling dizzy and faint.
I grab Dian’s medicine, pouring a third of what’s left into my mouth, keeping the rest for later—when we travel to the Land Beyond.
It takes a few moments before the agonizing discomfort eases, my mind clearing, though I still feel battered and exhausted.
The urge to reach for my ring is almost overpowering.
I must be patient, wait till I’m over the wall.
Once my strength returns, I slip on my shoes and a dark cloak.
My hair is coiled into a simple knot, fastened with a wooden pin.
As a precaution, I tie Princess Chunlei’s ornament to my waist—the one she gave me in the Shadow Wing.
Grabbing a handful of jewelry from the dressing table, I thrust it into my pouch, along with the leftover silver from Duke Yuan.
Useful, in case I need bribes to escape.
And if I’m caught, I’ll have bigger problems than a few stolen ornaments.
Thick clouds obscure the stars, a few birds already twittering in anticipation of dawn.
It’s long past midnight, when I was supposed to meet Dian and Jin.
Prince Zixin stayed longer than expected.
Fear grips me that it’s too late; I only have one chance to get out.
Fortunately, at this hour, all is quiet, not even a murmur from the guards keeping a distance as ordered.
When they aren’t looking, I head stealthily to the back wall where a gnarled tree towers.
Swiftly, I clamber up, along a thick branch that arches over the wall—then release it to drop outside my courtyard.
As I land on a rock, pain shoots through my heel—but I roll up, dusting myself off.
Without a lantern, the dark is smothering, but I make my way along the path to Ruilin’s old room.
As I turn into a narrow corridor, a troop of soldiers marches past—there are too many guards patrolling the grounds.
At once, I move in the opposite direction, weaving between the courtyards and silent halls.
The night obscures my senses, veiling everything in shadow.
I’m far from the place I’d agreed to meet Dian and Jin.
What if I can’t find them? What if I can’t get out?
As I hurry across a square, two guards head in my direction. Sweat breaks out over my skin. They’ve seen me; it’s too late for flight.
“Honored Sirs.” I greet them with an ingratiating bow, keeping my face down. “Could you tell me where the entrance is? It’s my first time in the palace, and I’ve lost my way.”
“What is your business here?” a guard demands. “The palace is sealed. You’ll have to wait to leave.”
I hold up Princess Chunlei’s ornament, glad for the lie I prepared in case I was stopped. “I’m a dressmaker. I came yesterday to deliver Her Highness’s new clothes and to make the necessary alterations. I only just finished and was given Her Highness’s token as permission to leave.”
“At this hour?” one of them asks.
“I had to wait for Miss Mina to finish attending to Her Highness before she would meet with me. Even longer to agree on a fair price.” I pat my pouch, drawing their attention to it.
At the mention of Mina’s name, the soldiers relax. “She’s a tough negotiator. You did well to get a good price,” the other tells me with a grin.
“Will you share your good fortune, Little Sister?” the first soldier asks, his beady eyes on my pouch.
I let my face fall. An honest person would never be eager to bribe, only those with something to hide.
My fingers are stiff as I untie the strings of the pouch, careful to conceal the pearls and jewels.
As I pick up a couple of silver pieces and hold them out, I bow again. “Good fortune should always be shared.”
Fortunately, they aren’t greedy enough to demand more. As they pocket the silver, one advises me, “Cross the courtyard at the end of this square, then cut through the garden of cypress trees. Follow the long stone path, until it leads you to the West Gate.”
As I thank them, eager to leave, the other soldier laughs. “Don’t be so lazy, Soldier Ma. For two pieces of silver, we can show her the way and ensure she won’t be unnecessarily detained.”
The West Gate is heavily watched, far from where I’m supposed to meet the others, but I can’t object without rousing suspicion. Fortunately, the path is clear now, and we encounter no other patrols. Soon, the entrance looms ahead, soldiers swarming the iron wall.
“Where are you going this late at night?” one of the guards asks.
“She’s one of Her Highness’s dressmakers, bearing her royal token,” Soldier Ma replies for me, elbowing his comrade aside to open the doors. They are heavy and thick, needing a couple of the soldiers to push them apart.
I thank them as I walk away, relieved my skirt hides my shaking legs.
I make myself move slowly, restraining the temptation to run.
Freedom lies in the cloak of night, amid the tangle of trees.
Yet some soldiers might still be watching me.
Once out of sight, I head in the direction of where Ruilin’s rooms were on the other side of the wall, still a distance away.
Leaves rustle, my sense prickling. The shadows on the ground quiver—as suddenly, Dian stumbles out from the trees. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, her face ashen, a bruise darkening one cheek. Her arms are folded behind her, metal clinking as she moves… like she’s chained.
Rage sears—alongside a terrible, blistering dread.
“Run,” she whispers vehemently. “Don’t look back.”