Chapter Thirty-Three #2
All except Xian. He shrank into the shadows at the back of the stage, wincing as his bruised feet protested at being used again so soon.
He’d not say a word to Song Lim about the discomfort; the shoemaker had as good as warned him that the slippers, perfect in every other way, might challenge him in the vigours of his dance.
Xian smiled at the thought of the man, even as he shivered with the touch of the night breeze floating in through open doors, his sweat-coated body cooling. The spirit tickled his skin like the brush of whiskers.
‘Yes, yes,’ he whispered. ‘It is time.’
The last of the guests hurried out, leaving behind a room strewn with the casual mess of entitlement. A mess that would have been left for Xian to attend to in the past. But he’d never again go to his knees for people like this.
Here was his moment. He was alone. Even the musicians had raced away with their instruments.
Xian turned to the same door through which he’d entered; his wisest choice considering Feng and the others had just left through the main doors. But could he recall the way well enough?
‘Why do you hesitate, Prince Xian?’
Xian jumped and spun around. His heart lifted to the back of his throat.
Captain Duan entered the room, stepping into the messy, abandoned space. ‘Come, you are to be at the Mandarin’s side. He likes to keep his favourite treasures close.’
Standing as he was on the stage, Xian drew level with the Captain. Perhaps that was what made Duan seem less frightening; or perhaps Xian simply didn’t have time to be frightened anymore.
Song Lim waited for him.
A new life awaited him.
A chill settled on Xian’s skin; the icy touch of calculation. His spirit lifted its head, cunning and intelligent, taking measure of their circumstance.
‘No. I will stay here,’ Xian said.
‘Is that so?’
‘That is so.’
Duan’s ugly laughter stained the room. He moved forward, following a wavering line, clumsy when he sought to step over a cushion.
Xian observed, making note. The captain was as drunk as any of the guests he was supposed to be keeping watch over.
And a man like Duan was rarely more pleasant when intoxicated.
‘Then we shall bring in the New Year together, you and I,’ he said, a slur making him sound a fool.
‘And I will teach you a lesson for trying to poison my lord’s ear against me.
You’ll not be so valuable anymore once I’ve bent you over and broken you wide open.
’ He belched, swaying as he regarded Xian with eyes of stone.
‘All I’ll need to say is that I was spellbound…
enchanted by the Cursed Prince into taking him, and ruining his precious purity.
You cursed Chen, did you not?’ Xian’s heart beat in time with the scratch of the fox against his skin.
Not yet, his blood whispered back. ‘And already they speak of the spectacle you put on just now, and wonder…is he every bit as unnatural a creature as his sorceress whore of a mother.’ Xian listened, as though from afar, to the violent ramblings of a man addicted to cruelty as surely as others were to opium. ‘On your knees, monster.’
Xian uttered the one word he knew would enrage this man. ‘No.’
A more vicious snarl could not have come from a beast. ‘You do not get to tell me no twice, your highness. There’s no shoemaker to hide behind now.
Nor will there ever be. You’ll never be in his company again.
’ Duan was almost at the stage, a predator certain his prey had been cornered.
He stepped on a discarded snuff bottle; the red glass cracking beneath his white-soled boot.
‘The mandarin will not need to doubt my loyalty, if your precious Song Lim no longer exists to come between us.’
Xian’s vision flamed red at its edges, and deep, deep inside his spirit dug in its claws. ‘Touch him, and you’ll not live to regret it.’
The captain let out a roar, and leapt forward, intent on mounting the stage.
New Year arrived in the shattering of the sky.
The first of the fireworks exploded, and the building shuddered, the room filling with a brilliance of red hues.
The thunderous noise threw the captain’s focus. His toe clipped the edge of the low stage, and he toppled onto hands and knees, screaming at his misfortune. Xian raced for the door, muscles bunching, pulse flying fast and high.
Another burst of light and punch of sound arrived. Xian hunched unwittingly, fearing the roof was about to come down on them. The fireworks sounded directly overhead.
The gown snagged, jerking Xian back, the fabric choosing the wrong time to display its strength.
A roar of triumph came from the captain, before his hands were grabbing, bundling, pulling Xian back; like a fisherman dragging in his nets. The left slipper, slick with blood, slid from Xian’s foot.
Another deafening boom came from overhead, with another close behind.
The room lit red, then gold as the New Year marched in.
Xian struggled to find some anchorage, his nails scraping uselessly against the wood.
The sheer fabric moved him as easily as though he were sliding across an iced pond.
Duan’s hand found the tight laces at the back of the bodice, hooking in and anchoring his hold.
Through it all, Xian didn’t make a sound, but inside his spirit screamed; the eerie, chilling cry of the fox in a night forest.
Captain Duan straddled him, his hand still locked about the laces, pressing down against his spine so hard Xian could not take a decent breath. Duan struck him across the head, causing Xian’s lip to split against the wood. Stars joined the stain of red in his vision.
Another boom came, the cheers of a crowd audible. Emerald light arrived, a blast of green so vivid it seemed the world would never return to rights.
The stage shuddered beneath Xian’s body. The captain sat his weight on Xian’s legs, crushing him to the floor. He pressed one hand to the back of Xian’s head, whilst the other tore at white and gold skirts, ripping through the layers in search of bare skin.
Xian wriggled uselessly, his cheek ground against the wood, sending his arms back to where they could scratch at Duan’s thighs. But he could not reach far enough behind him to stop the man’s hands from tearing at the silk panel, which formed the flimsiest of barriers against the wild assault.
Xian screamed for help, trying to make himself heard over the calamity of the fireworks. Duan grabbed at his hair, slamming his head against the floorboards.
The red edge of his vision shifted to speckled white.
Instinct flickered, fireflies lifting out of the darkness that threatened to take him over. A fox may not be the largest nor the strongest of animals, but it was among the most wily.
Xian closed his eyes, exhaled, and went limp. He slumped onto the floor, removing what Captain Duan coveted most. The fight.
Fingers dug into his arse cheek, the pressure on his legs easing as Duan leaned forward, the stench of him alone enough to have rendered Xian unconscious.
‘I’ll kill you.’ Duan’s words were hot and damp against Xian’s cheek. ‘If you die before I’m done.’
Xian moved as though he were back in the trance of his dance. A twist of his body, a sway of his hips, sent the unsteady Captain tumbling off his back. The man let out a bellow that the fireworks snatched up and vanished beneath their own tirade.
Xian sat up, reaching into the bunched layers of silk gauze, guided by a certainty that did not let him down. He pulled the bloodied slipper from the endless lengths of fabric and struck out at the man who laboured onto his hands and knees beside him.
The heel landed true. Square against the captain’s temple. The man cried out, clutching at his head and throwing himself sideways, seeking to escape. He toppled off the edge of the stage.
Scrambling onto his hands and knees, Xian fought with the tangled lengths of his gown wrapped around his legs, desperate to stand.
The iron tang of blood touched his senses.
A low gurgle came from beyond the stage, and the captain’s foot, all Xian could see of the man from where he crouched, twitched violently. Then stilled.
Red light, the colour of prosperity and good luck, illuminated the room as the fireworks continued to break open the sky.
He edged forward, crawling on hands and knees, grimacing against the scent; his spirit quiet beneath his skin.
Xian peered over the edge.
The cruelty had left the captain’s eyes. Drained from him into the pool of blood spreading around his head. Xian’s stomach twisted.
Fortune, fate, chance or luck, had landed Captain Duan upon the bottle he’d broken when he strove for Xian. A shard had pierced him through the neck; crimson pulsing from the wound still.
Death. Death. Death.
Xian’s spirit bayed at the fresh kill. The bringing down of a dangerous predator. But this was no victory to be proud of.
And he’d never needed Song Lim’s calming presence more.
The rich, cloying smell of blood made Xian’s throat tight, his own blood racing through him like it sought escape. He pulled off the other slipper and cradled them both to his chest. Xian made his way on silent feet to the main doors and rushed out into the freshly born new year.