“No.” He hesitated. “Well, I wasn’t encouraged to—my days were filled with classes on royal etiquette and such. But even when I had the time, the games were never any fun. The other children had been taught to fear me, and so no matter what happened, they let me win very quickly. Sometimes, for the more physical games, they refused to participate at all, for fear they might actually push me or hurt me and be executed for it. Then there were the attendants, who followed me everywhere I went, and always intervened if they thought there was the slightest risk of me getting injured.”
I turned around. A mistake. His face was sweet in the dim light, his hair tousled against the sheets.
“Since they would not play with me… well, I had to invent other ways to entertain myself. If they were so careful about etiquette, so afraid of offending, then from time to time I would snap at them for the smallest thing and drag them outside to be punished. Just occasionally enough to keep them guessing and on their toes. I supposethatwas fun, and a game, in a sense. One that only I could play.” He spoke in an offhand manner, like it was a joke, but there was a sadness to his gaze. A touch of loneliness.
We were already so close that I could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, but I inched even closer, my body pressed to his, until nothing could possibly stand between us. From the instant I entered the palace over two years ago, I had dreamed of this. I had trained for the moment when Goujian arrived, when all the guards were stationed in their respective positions, when the Yue soldiers—oursoldiers—marched through the gates. But suddenly I found myself wondering if it wouldn’t be quite so terrible to delay it all by another day. Just one day, to give more back to him. To allay my own guilt.
“Is there something wrong?” Fuchai asked, smiling, his longfingers running through my hair. “I’m not used to you being so… open with your affections.”
“Do you mind it?”
“Never.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” A beat. “This is… nice,” he said softly. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
The heaviness in my limbs grew. I stifled a yawn.
“Xishi,” I thought I heard him say. “Xishi.”
I was too exhausted to speak. “Mm?”
“No, nothing.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Rest, if you need to. I’ll look after you.”
I don’t remember closing my eyes. But even as darkness fell over me, I was aware of the warmth of his body, the evening scent of his skin; all that should have been foreign to me, now as intimate as the back of my hand. As the drums of war sounded in the distance, signaling a new age, a new dawn, there I lay, falling sound asleep in the arms of the enemy.
Somebody was shaking me.
I opened my eyes, squinting. The candles had been lit, their reddish glow casting strange, misshapen shadows over the walls, and Fuchai was standing before me. It was his expression that woke me up completely. He always had a careless look about him, like nothing was quite worth his attention. I had never seen him like this: his hands trembling, his lips pressed tight into a bloodless line. At the same moment, a horn blared in the distance; it was not the first time. Urgent footsteps thundered outside our chambers; cries and the clang of steel. Everything about it was distorting, the peace ofthe night erupting into violence. The horn blared again, like the shriek of a child.
It’s happening, I thought, my blood flashing hot and cold.
Fuchai lifted his hand from my shoulder and rested it deliberately on the hilt of his sword. Then he drew it from its sheath, throwing off a streak of cold, silver light, half blinding me.
I felt the air escape my lungs. He had found out. He knew I was the one who had planned it all, and now he would kill me for my treachery. My thoughts raced with my heartbeat. Perhaps I could beg him for forgiveness, just to buy myself time—perhaps I could weaponize whatever affections he still felt for me, at least until the Yue came—
“Xishi,” he said, his tone grave, his eyes black as flint. He lifted his sword.
“I—wait, Fuchai.” My voice was still croaky from sleep. I shook my head wildly. “Wait—let me—”
He moved toward me. My entire body froze, dreading the pain, the end of everything. But the blade didn’t so much as touch me. Instead he pulled me to him, locking me in a firm embrace, his head bent over the curve of my neck. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you. Whatever happens—I won’t let them touch you.”
Relief engulfed me, but it was followed by a wave of guilt. So he didn’t know, not yet.
“What’s going on?” I asked, letting all my remaining fear seep into my voice. “What’s wrong?”
The doors slammed open before he could reply. A guard rushed inside, his cheek smeared with blood and soot. He fell onto his knees halfway across the room and bowed low, thethudso loud it echoed. “Your Majesty, the palace has been surrounded—they’re coming through the northern gates—”
“What?” Fuchai was still holding me. I could feel the muscles in his shoulders contract. “What happened to General Yu?”
Lady Yu’s father.I held my breath.
“There was apparently a—a skirmish near the southern gates.” The guard’s teeth knocked together. It was a miracle he didn’t bite off his own tongue. “He was called down to investigate—we’re still unclear what happened. All we know is that half the guards had vacated their usual posts—”
“This doesn’t make sense,” Fuchai said. Even without seeing him, I imagined the disbelief etched into his features, the slight downward tug of his lips. “How did they get here so fast?”
“They came by—by boat. Through the canal.”
