“They seem under the impression that I’m tricking them,” hesaid dryly, eyes fluttering open to look at me sidelong, his grin settling back into its usual smirk. “That they’ll speak my name once and”—he made an abrupt slashing motion with his free hand—“they’ll lose their heads. Of course, they’re not totally without reason. It may be because I killed that soldier once for doing just that, but in my defense, he was beingveryannoying.”
Little darts of fear pulsed through me. How casually he spoke of a man’s death. But beneath my fear boiled an old, familiar rage. It did not matter how gently he treated and wrapped up my wounds now; he had inflicted far greater injuries upon my family, my people, my land. My love.
All of this, I swept clean from my face.
“Zixu is always saying that I cannot kill people just because I find them especially irritating. His issue, of course, is less with the killing itself than how I go about it.Imagine if your wise, perfect, never-wrong father were here,” Fuchai mimicked in a voice so like the minister’s stern rasp I half expected him to appear in my room. “He would know which strings to pull to achieve the same results without appearing like a drunken tyrant.But why should I have to figure out a complicated series of thirty-something steps just to dispose of one man? What fun is it, being king, if I cannot do even this? Of course,” he added, with a conspiratorial look, “don’t go repeating my words to Zixu. God knows the lengthy speeches I must endure, and all supposedly for my own good.”
“Zixu,” I repeated, schooling my features into mild wonderment. “The name is familiar… Is that the minister who assigned us our rooms?”
He frowned. I could almost see the threads connecting in his mind; sometimes a little nudge was all it took to steer someone in the direction you wanted. “And so it is. I’ll have to ask him why he had to choose the least convenient of places for you to live. Really, he always claims to have his reasons, but sometimes…” He trailedoff with an irritable sigh, then laid a hand over mine. His skin was unbearably warm, unbearably foreign, smooth and devoid of calluses. I forced myself to stay still. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure a new accommodation is prepared for you. What kind of place do you prefer? Somewhere with a nice view of the ponds, or perhaps more room for dancing—”
“Whatever place is close to yours,” I said sweetly, resisting the urge to gag, “so you may come visit me when you please.”And so it is easier for me to track the movements of your generals and ministers.
His face brightened like a young boy’s. “Consider it done,” he said.
The king’s word really was law.
We were moved into another set of chambers that very night, one where the windows were vast and open and allowed rhombus patches of light to filter in, and where great rockeries and pink-flowering trees sat in the yard outside, lanterns strung across the branches like stars. Now we were so close to the heart of the palace that the sounds of footsteps often reached our ears, along with a wavering call and chime that I soon learned signaled the arrival of the king.
Yet even though we were closer, I still did not have the chance to see him—and it was not for lack of trying.
In the first week, I sought to use my injuries to my advantage, calling out for frequent visits from the physician, complaining of a sudden stabbing pain or of bleeding through my robes. But the physician who appeared was different, and Fuchai did not accompany him.
“Where is the one who treated me before?” I asked him.
He sniffed, then poured alcohol directly onto my wound withoutany care or gentleness. It burned like liquid flames. I had to bite back a yelp, dig my nails into my skin. “That is the royal physician, the highest ranked in the palace. He should serve only His Majesty.”
“Then who do you serve?” I asked, shaking from the pain. He did not reply, but I could guess. Wu Zixu. He must have sent the physician before anyone else could.
In the second week, when my shoulder was mostly healed, I fashioned a kite out of old fabric and twigs and thread. Zhengdan and I made these often in our village, but I understood it to be a novelty for those raised in the lavish confines of the palace. When the chimes sounded, and Fuchai drew near, I ran down the lanes with the kite soaring high above my head, willing him to come. Yet, I had flown the kite for only a few seconds when a mysterious black dart pierced through it, and it tumbled back down to the ground like an injured sparrow. I clenched the dart in my fist while the tinkling of chimes faded away.
In the third week, I wrapped little golden bells around my ankles and wrists and ventured out to the palace gardens. When he passed by on his high carriage, I began to dance, the bells jingling sweetly with my movements, the music rising through the air. Just when I heard his carriage slow, and felt the hope lift in my chest, it was Wu Zixu’s dreaded voice that drifted toward me over the trees. “We mustn’t delay our next meeting, Your Majesty,” he said. “It is of the utmost importance.”
In the fourth week, after Zhengdan had found out that Fuchai was to arrive soon, I drew a warm bath for myself and sank into the jasmine-infused waters, the steam swirling hot and thick around me. I had shooed away all the maids, and left the door just slightly ajar, designed for him to walk straight in and see me. But when footsteps finally drew near, they were the wrong ones, too light and nimble.
Water splashed to the floor as I twisted around.
One of the maids had returned. “Minister Wu Zixu has called His Majesty away for the afternoon to approve his birthday preparations. The minister asked that I inform you, so you are not kept waiting for nothing.”
“I understand,” I said tightly, and I did. I saw what Zixu was doing. It did not matter how charming I was, how well I’d been trained, if he would not even allow me the opportunity to see the king.
But he had unwittingly reminded me of something else. The king’s birthday, just one moon away. Everyone would be expected to attend, from the most esteemed ministers to the lowliest servants. And even Wu Zixu could not prevent me from being there.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The king’s birthday was a truly joyous occasionto him alone. To everyone else in the palace, it was a source of great anxiety.
In the weeks leading up to the event, the servants could be seen scrambling up and down the interlinked halls with a frenetic energy, putting up banners and scrubbing every lacquered surface until they were clean enough to be licked. The cooks sent for men to climb the remote mountains in search of rare herbs, and brewed clay pots of chicken soup for seven nights and seven days. And within the sprawling estates and embroidered screen doors, the concubines wrote letters to calligraphy masters and jewelry suppliers, arranging the most elaborate gifts.
I had no wealth or connections in this kingdom, so I could rely only on my two hands. For weeks, I’d stayed up by the flickering flame of the candles, threading a rich embroidery of dragons and phoenixes. Each glossy scale and feather contained a myriad of colors, a collection of a hundred tiny, careful stitches.
When the day came, I folded the embroidery into a rosewoodbox for the maids to carry, then joined the others outside in the grand pavilion.
There, amid the overhanging lilac blossoms and wisteria, sheltered from the sun, the king sat on a raised throne of white stone. He wore layers of brocade robes so fine it was difficult to believe they had been spun from mortal fabric. The hems were lined with soft fur, the sleeves decorated with silver flames. He looked terribly beautiful, the way wolves might look beautiful in blood-splattered snow.
I would have him today, I decided. I would sink my nails into his heart and force him to remember me.
For a moment, he seemed to glance my way, though it was hard to be certain. I had joined a line of twenty concubines, each dressed in their very best, their palace ladies positioned beside them. The air was thick with the unnatural fragrance of a dozen different perfumes. It made my nose itch, but I kept my expression pleasant.
