Chapter 37 A Village Girl’s Dream
A VILLAGE GIRL’S DREAM
When I arrived back at the wedding banquet, Hesin came to tell me Terren had already retired for the night. “His Highness calls you join him in his wedding chamber.”
“Did he?” I asked.
Hesin seemed surprised. “Lady Yin?”
“Did he really ask for me?” I was thinking of every terrifying night in the palace he had supposedly called me to his bedside. Every night he had used instead to hurt me, to keep me as far from him as possible.
Hesin did not look my direction as he began leading me down several side hallways, each adorned with bronze lion statues and silk tapestries.
“There are certain appearances that need to be kept up in the palace, as you surely have noticed. Duties that need to be upheld as decreed by Heaven and the moon. Our prince has many enemies who watch him, looking for an opening, the first sign of weakness. And that includes his Inner Court.”
Any sympathy he may have had for me once was gone. He gestured me coldly into one of the back rooms, where he left me as summarily as the first night, chest tight and heart heavy.
The wedding chamber was decorated with red-tasseled curtains, pillars full of auspicious poetry, and countless joy lanterns. Azalea petals were strewn all over the floor. A generous helping of incense hung as dense as syrup in the air—burnt rose and jujube and cinnamon.
Passionate, explosive love, the apothecary’s voice echoed. The sparks of which are sure to ignite Heaven’s magic.
There was one bed at the very back, hidden behind another thick layer of curtains. I crept towards it like a mouse navigating a viper’s den. Except I was not a mouse, not really. More like a hawk, I thought, or something else that could both be hurt by vipers but also hunt them.
Speaking with Silian had changed me. Before, I might have been more frightened, as frightened as I had been the day I was selected. I might have prayed that he would be asleep, so that I could be safe for one more night.
Now, I had the concubine’s weapon.
All this time, I hadn’t really bothered getting closer to Terren himself, having already decided long ago he was not really a person but something that doled out pain, the way a fire was made of nothing real but still seared whatever it touched.
But Silian was right. I could not write his poem without looking into the heart of the fire, even if doing so meant getting burned.
I drew a deep breath, then peeled apart the curtains with a trembling hand.
Terren was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
He was lying in his bed, face-up. His eyes were closed, but the way his ward swirled told me he was still conscious.
There was a Liang Dynasty scroll tucked under one arm, which I supposed he’d been trying to read, containing poems about mountains and rivers.
But he must have had too much wine to have focused for long.
By the pillow next to him was another jar of it, half-empty.
The instant I made my presence known, he was going to torture me. I was sure of it.
But I had to finish the poem.
I sucked in a deep breath and made myself brave, just like I’d done before the empress and the Great Clans earlier that day. It was the hardest thing I had ever made myself do—even worse than the night I’d had to use the bamboo on myself—but I knelt before the bed and said, softly, “Terren.”
His given name, not his title. The way a wife would address her husband. Just the dangerous sound of it made my stomach knot with terror.
His eyes fluttered open. His sigil flashed, and my body instinctively tensed. But there must have been no blades in the room, because none flew my way. He opened his hand and a new, crude one began to form within his palm, in a nest of sprouting vines and blooming lilies.
“Wait!” I said, panicking. “If you kill me, you’ll never know the truth! Of why I’d been going to the West Palace.”
The appeal to his curiosity must have worked, because while he finished making his knife, he did not cut me with it. Instead, he pushed himself up, with difficulty, to face me. “I imagine it is something inane. But tell me anyway.”
“I will.” That thin thread of curiosity was the only thing keeping my blood inside my skin.
I had to stretch the moment out as long as possible.
“But first, I have something to say. Now that we are wed, I wish for a fresh beginning. I … wish for us to forget the path we have taken so far and forge a new one, together.”
His expression darkened, his sigil flaring with mounting anger.
It took all I had to wring the fear from my voice. “I have made a vow today. For each other, care. You are my husband now, so I wish to care for you. I wish to…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he’d gripped his knife so hard his knuckles turned white.
I hurried to change my approach. “In the villages, do you know what every little girl dreams of?” It was hard to breathe, let alone speak. “It is different than in the cities or in the palace. We do not dream of power. We do not dream of ambition. We dream of marriage.”
That was not true. We dreamed that the constant ache of hunger in our bellies would vanish.
We dreamed of having enough food on the table so that our mothers did not have to give their share to our fathers, our fathers to our younger siblings.
We dreamed that one day we, like our brothers, could become anything.
Marriage was only a means.
“Every village girl wishes to stand at her husband’s side, supporting him in his every endeavor.
So now that we are forever bound, let me stand at yours.
Even if said endeavor is as large as dynasties.
” Earnest words, Silian had said. You must get him to speak them.
“Terren, now that you have an empress, you need not take on the burden of the Crown alone.”
He laughed, ugly and terrible. “Forever is an interesting choice of word, seeing as I can kill you at any moment.”
“It may not be forever for you, but it is for me. You may have many concubines in your Inner Court, as many as you please, but I only get one husband. One person to care for. One person to”—I had to bite out the word through my teeth—“love.”
He stared at me a long time. I could see him working to figure me out, why I was debasing myself so in front of someone who had tortured me.
I knew he knew I was not being truthful, but I also knew he couldn’t see through me completely.
If he understood me wholly, he would have cut me like he’d cut up everything else and been done with it.
He was brilliant, I thought, but he was the wrong kind of brilliant.
He might know poetry and words, but that was not the same as knowing the hearts of people. Especially people like me, who could never make themselves heard in books. Why bother to know our hearts when it was far easier to make us afraid?
I supposed that was why he needed Hesin.
“This past year,” I said quietly, “I’ve kept your secret, haven’t I?
I have always lied for you against Sun Jia and the other concubines.
The empress keeps prying and threatening me, but still I have not told her a thing.
And don’t you remember in summer, when the rumors came? I saved us from the doctors then.”
It was obvious now why he’d chosen me as his wife, the one person he could call upon exclusively without raising eyebrows. He hadn’t wanted the position to fall to Sun Jia, or Kang Rho, or anyone else from a distinguished family? been forced to summon them according to the whims of the moon.
He couldn’t threaten anyone else to keep their mouths shut about his condition—not without risking retaliation from a Great Clan—but me, he could torture however he wished.
And besides, with my low status, nobody would believe me even if I did tell.
“None of the things you mention were for my benefit.” His voice dripped with disdain. “Each time, you were only trying to save yourself.”
“Maybe so, but they still prove that I am capable. Capable of helping you, defending you. Fighting for you. And I will continue to do so from now on, even if I don’t need to save myself, because you are my husband and I have made a pledge.”
He started to reply but swayed forward suddenly, unsteadily. His hand flew to his temple as he grimaced. “Ahh…”
“Terren.” I made my voice gentle. “Do you need me to get you something to eat?”
He shook his head, though there was a sheen of sweat on his face.
“Some tea might help.” I thought of all the drunk men I’d seen in Guishan late at night, in the gambling houses, their wives coming with ginger tea and angry words to drag them home.
“No. I only need…” He looked around, found his half-empty jar of wine, and downed the rest of it in one long, disgusting gulp. Then he sank heavily onto his pillow and closed his eyes.
I went to get him the tea anyway. I would have prayed that the wine would kill him while I was gone, except I was pretty sure the Aricine Ward protected him from that too.
By the time I was back, he still hadn’t moved. I set the still-steaming pot on the bedside table and said, “Try to have some when you have the chance. It will help you feel better in the morning. I also got some mung bean cakes as well, to soak up the wine.”
“Wei,” he murmured. His eyes were still closed, his knife still on the bed next to him, folded in lilies and vines.
I sat close to him. “What is it, my prince?”
“I am beginning to suspect,” he said, in barely a whisper, “that you are not afraid enough of me.”
His sigil glowed without warning. From its bed of flowers, the knife shot up and plunged itself into my chest.