Chapter Eight #2
‘The silver-haired man told me something more of them.’ He swallowed, because now he really was entering the realm of mystical nonsense he usually turned his nose at.
‘He said they would be beautiful, and that I should make them as soon as I could, not to wait for any customer to order them done. Make them, and when their owner arrived, I would know to whom they belonged.’
Xian blinked. ‘What a curious thing to say.’
They were leaning in towards one another, Xian higher on his cushion tower, Lim lifting slightly off his heels; the slippers held between them.
‘He was a curious man that was certain.’
Lim had thought him just another wandering pedlar who’d gone mad with the loneliness, but now…feeling as he did, Lim knew he had misjudged the fellow.
‘Will you try them on, your highness?’
Xian sat back, widening the space between them. ‘Do you think me their owner, Song Lim?’ He lifted his hand to his face, pressing against his veil. ‘I thought you said you did not believe the things that are whispered about me.’
Lim frowned. ‘I don’t, unless it is to say you are thoughtful and kind.’
‘Then why do you think of me as the owner of your enchanted shoes?’ he said forcefully, moving as though to rise. ‘Do you suppose sorcery calls to itself?’
Lim moved quickly, thoughtlessly, bundling the shoes in the crook of his arm, and pressing his free hand to the prince’s knee.
‘If anyone is enchanted it is me, not the slippers. Believing a stranger’s silly story to begin with.
And I am insulted you would think me so cruel, when I know how much the talk of your mother’s magick hurts you so. ’
He snapped his mouth shut. Lim was a damned fool; he need not have mentioned the man’s painful past so bluntly.
He was so busy shouting at himself internally it took a moment to register he still had his hand on Xian’s knee.
He pulled away. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I should not have grabbed you like that.’
‘No. You should not have,’ Xian replied, calmer than before.
‘But you are right. I do not know you well, but what I know is that you have helped me twice in the space of one day, in ways I cannot thank you enough for. I had no right to speak so angrily.’ He inclined his head, his gaze falling to the slippers.
‘Especially when you offer me such a beautiful gift.’ He shivered as a nightingale sent out its song to the nighttime.
‘You are cold. Let me stoke the firebox.’
‘No. Forgive me. I am unsettled. The marchioness informed me I am to leave Kunming tomorrow—’
‘For Manhao, the port town on the Red River, for the New Year Celebrations.’ Lim closed the box and set the slippers on its top.
‘At least a week’s travel from here, with that hùndàn who accosted you in the Reception Hall for company.
’ Lim wished to call him much worse than a bastard.
‘I heard them, and think it perfectly natural you feel so unsettled.’
‘You heard all of that? I thought you arrived…later.’
‘I know decent places to stand unnoticed,’ Lim grinned.
‘I wanted to see what my competition in Manhao put upon their masters feet.’ Only partly true, and a convenient excuse to be there when Xian danced.
‘I saw your performance. You were superb, it must be said. But they have no right to send you off like that, to please the whims of those they trade with.’
Xian wrapped his arms about himself. ‘You saw me dance?’
The unexpected question drew Lim from the memory of how close that Manhao captain had stood to the prince.
‘As I said, I’m talented at staying unnoticed when it serves me.
’ He gave the prince a lopsided grin, but the returned smile was distracted.
‘But I carried one of my boxes just in case I was caught and needed the excuse of seeing Lady Tian. The tales of your brilliance hardly capture what a fine thing it is to watch you move about that floor, the music playing as though just for you. I don’t for a moment think you cursed, rather, you have the favour of the gods. ’
The prince ducked his head, a sweet habit Lim had noted, when he was complimented too much.
‘Thank you, though I’m sure you exaggerate.’
‘I do not.’
‘Well, whatever the case, I am very grateful you were there after. Captain Duan is…’ Xian pressed his thumb into his chest, taking a shuddered breath. ‘Well, he is a hùndàn, as you say, and…’ The prince’s hand went to his veil, his breathing suddenly erratic. ‘Will you…open a window…’
‘Your highness?’ Lim rose onto his knees, reaching for him. ‘What is it?’
‘I cannot…I cannot breathe…there is no air…’ He grew frantic, his fingers clutching at the veil, but his panic seemed to keep him from grasping it.
‘You can breathe, I assure you. All is well.’ Except it wasn’t.
Lim had known a soldier, still haunted by things he’d seen in the First China War, who would wake in such a state, inconsolable, until he collapsed sobbing in Lim’s arms. ‘Look at me…come now, look at me.’ Lim pushed back Xian’s hair from his ear, and found the loop of his veil.
He slipped it free, taking the fine silk away from his nose and mouth.
‘There, breathe….that’s it…slowly…fill your lungs.
Better…much better…take your time. There is no rush… you are safe with me.’
He realised then that Xian’s hands were upon him, clutching at the front of his changsan; white-knuckled and trembling.
‘Song Lim…’ he gasped, his head bowed.
‘Here. I am here…you are not alone.’
Slowly, the tidal wave of panic washed over the prince. When he lifted his head, he was pale and harried. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ Lim touched his chin, urging his head up so their eyes met. ‘Come now, another deep breath, Xian. And another, fill your lungs.’
He did as Lim bid, but the panic that had taken hold of him still lingered there in his eyes. ‘My thoughts run away with me sometimes. That is all. I am alright now.’ He wasn’t, and they both knew it, but Lim nodded.
‘For me then, another few breaths.’
Xian closed his eyes, allowing Lim to look more deeply at the scarring on his face.
The marks were almost as bad as the gossip suggested, though they did not cover his face so entirely as those tales purported.
The burns hugged his cheek to just below the jut of his cheekbone, covering his jawline, and continued in a thin line down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his ruqun.
Lim’s chest ached to imagine the pain he must have suffered in that fire. And after.
‘I am truly alright, now.’ Xian released his hold on Lim’s clothing, leaving creases behind. ‘Thank you.’ His hand went to his face, and the terror that had just subsided seemed to rise again. ‘My veil.’
‘Forgive me, I thought it best removed, you were growing very pale. Does it not feel more comfortable to do without it for a moment?’
He could almost hear the swirl of the prince’s thoughts, the internal battle he waged. Clearly, he felt freer without it, but it must have made him feel vulnerable too…exposed in a way Lim had no right to ask of him. He was ready to tell the prince to ignore what he’d said when Xian spoke.
‘It is much more comfortable for me…’ he turned his gaze downwards. ‘So long as you don’t mind…’
‘Mind what? Being able to see for certain when you are wincing at a terrible joke I’ve told?’
The prince’s smile, seen in its entirety and not just in his eyes, was almost as lovely as his feet. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t mind in the slightest.’
Xian exhaled, returning to calmness. ‘I’d like to try the slippers on, if I’ve not changed your mind with that outburst?’ Xian watched him through black lashes, a wariness about him; like a fox approaching a piece of meat he feared lay in a trap.
‘Hardly an outburst, your highness. I’ve many a good friend whose worries can bother them in such a way.
I’m just glad to see you recovered. And as for the shoes, my mind cannot be changed about something that is undeniable.
’ Lim settled back on his heels and picked up the slippers. ‘These are yours. You shall see.’
‘Spoken like a true merchant, peddling his wares.’ The teasing tone was sunshine streaming through a storm cloud. Xian regathered his robe, baring his feet once more. ‘Let us see then.’
Lim set to work. He cupped Xian’s left heel and found the prince fit perfectly into his palm, his skin warm and smooth. ‘Now just ease your toes in at first, don’t force it.’
But he need not have said anything at all.
The slipper slid over Xian’s toes as if the shoe had been oiled with butter.
At the heel, he barely applied any pressure upwards, and the slipper was fastened there.
A shoe never worn, needing no encouragement at all to find its place.
Lim felt every bit as awed as Xian sounded.
‘Oh, Song Lim.’ The prince lifted his robe higher, leaning down to observe the slipper that nestled on his foot. ‘It feels like velvet…this material…it is a miracle.’ He dipped his toes back and forth, and a hint of moonshine glinted. ‘The other one…quickly.’
Lim wasted no time in heeding the prince’s command.
But with Xian so busy admiring his clad foot, he neglected to raise the other, leaving Lim to run his hand over the back of his calf, following it down to where his leg tapered to the slenderness of his ankle.
With gentle pressure, he lifted the prince’s foot; a motion Lim had gone through a thousand times before, but none of those had made his throat dry, the skin on his palm tingle.