We entered a vast chamber that smelled faintly of rosewood and something else, something new. Its furnishings were simple yet elegant, with two canopy beds and a cabinet so large I doubted all my possessions could fill even a single drawer. There were mirrors, too, laid out on the table, their golden-bronze sheen like the light of small suns. The entire room was brightly lit. Across from where we stood was a window; through its lattice frame, I could glimpse the lotus pond in the courtyard and the old greens of a camphor tree.
This, I realized, was where we would be staying for the next ten weeks.
A sudden wave of homesickness crashed over me. I tightened my grip on my satchel, which contained within it only a few rough-spun tunics and a hairpin Father had carved for me himself from wood. I had not known what else to bring. The skin above my sternum felt empty without the familiar weight of my jade pendant.
Would my parents have woken by now? Did they know I was gone?
Someone touched my wrist. I looked up, blinked the ache from my eyes. It was Zhengdan. There was a knowing in her expression; even though she did not appear so sad to have left the village behind, she understood.
“You can just set your things down here,” the guard told us. “Fanli is expecting you in the dining hall.”
I quickly collected myself and tucked the satchel away. I would not think about my parents anymore. I would grow into a different person here, with a new room and new clothes and new wants.Someone who could cast spells on the most powerful of men and deceive without any softening of the heart.
The dining hall was not difficult to find. The scent of roasted meat wafted out to greet us yards before we had even stepped into the room. My stomach grumbled, a sharp pang of hollowness striking me with full force. On the ride here, I had not even entertained the thought of food. But now, it was all I could think about. Not the coarse millet buns from our village, the mung bean porridge that was too often diluted down to mildly flavored water, but realmeat.
My footsteps quickened.
Inside, a feast was already laid out on a low table. Fanli sat alone on one side, his bowl of rice untouched, his chopsticks set down, hardly even interested in what had been spread out right under his nose: plates of crisp bamboo shoots; a whole fish slathered in a golden-brown sauce, the white meat so tender it sprung apart on its own; slices of chicken cooked with fresh chestnuts and chilies. I could imagine the taste just from the scent—the give of the bamboo between my teeth, the notes of sweetness mixed with the richer tang of dark soy sauce and oil—
“Hungry?” Fanli asked, catching my eye. “Sit down. This is for the two of you.”
We needed no further invitation. I grabbed the pair of chopsticks to my left and pushed as much food into my bowl as it could physically contain. It was so hot still that I could see the steam rising from the fish.
Fanli waited until we had both eaten a few bites of everything before speaking. “In the palace, that is not how you take your meals.”
I paused, my chopsticks hovering in midair. “What do you mean?”
Zhengdan did not even stop chewing. Through a mouthful of food, she said, “Don’t tell me we are meant to learn etiquette foreatingtoo.”
“You must.” Fanli rose from the table, his eyes cold. “First, you are supposed to wait outside the door until you are called in. You must then curtsy—with your hands like this.” He clasped his own hands together, then shifted them to one side while bending the knee ever so slightly. “Do not make eye contact with him. Do not tilt your head. Wait for him to excuse you before approaching the table from the side.” He gestured to our left. “When you sit, your feet must remain like so.”
Zhengdan stared at him. “We must do all of that? Every time?”
“Not only that.” He lowered himself back down in his seat. “Nobody is allowed to touch their chopsticks—much less eat—until the king has eaten first. If he raises a goblet of wine in toast, then you must ensure your goblet is placed lower than his. And when you do lift your chopsticks, you must take care to arrange your robes.” He made a series of elaborate movements with his broad sleeves, fanning them out almost like a dance before slowly lifting them up to cover his mouth.
Catching my eye, Zhengdan muttered to me, “By the time we finish, all the dishes will have gone cold.”
I bit back a smile. Itdidseem somewhat absurd, all these unnecessary flourishes of movement, all the subtle rules and expectations. And what was their purpose, exactly? To make the king feel more important? In our village, there was barely enough time to eat as it was. Nobody would waste it on such hollow gestures as these. I couldn’t even count the number of times I had seen a villager crouching in one corner, shoving chunks of millet bun into their mouth as though in fear somebody would snatch it away.
“You may find it laughable now,” Fanli said evenly. “But only the other lunar month, a court official was beheaded for lifting hiswine higher than the king’s. They found it a blatant sign of disrespect.”
All my mirth withered, and my stomach clenched. The images that flashed through my mind were enough to dissolve my appetite: the young official who had forgotten himself for only a second, who raised his goblet with perhaps too much enthusiasm, so eager was he to please—and the wine dropped from his trembling hands, the dark red spill of it like blood against the smooth palace floors. A sick feeling frothed inside me. I paid closer attention when Fanli showed us the eating rituals once more, and managed to emulate him on the fifth try. Zhengdan succeeded on the eighth.
“Now you understand the basics,” Fanli said, “it is important to perform them in such a way that is pleasing to the eye. Remember, you will be watched the whole time.”
And so our lessons began.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Do you know what your problem is?”
These were the first words Fanli spoke to me the next day when he found me sitting alone by the lotus pond, my fingers skimming the water. The coolness of it felt divine, like silk against skin. It was a strange thing to realize that I might never have to wash silk again in my life.
I jerked my head up, then hastily wiped my wet hands on my robes. I had not been expecting Fanli so soon. The evening before, he had said he planned to see each of us alone, to better assess what our strengths and weaknesses were and tailor our training accordingly. I’d thought he was still with Zhengdan, who’d been away so long by the time I woke that her sheets had already turned cold.
“My problem?” I echoed, somewhat affronted. “What?”
He sat beside me, taking his time to smooth the layered fabrics of his robes before replying, “You wear everything you feel on your face.”
