She bit her lip, then promptly stopped since that would eat off the red paint. Her mother had told her to be smart. It was time she started using her brain instead of her extremely ineffective brawn. “What do you want?” she spat. “I have no money for you. Be thankful if you are not whipped for daring to touch an Imperial Consort.”
He was still holding her ankle prisoner. Worse, he was putting his weight on in now as he maneuvered into a sitting position. “You’re not going to be a royal bride. I’m sorry but it’s true.” Then he yawned while horror chilled her bones.
“You insolent pig!” She kicked again for all she was worth. He was still yawning, his head thrown back with his inhale. Her leg slipped from his grip and caught him square in the ribs. This cut off his breath with a gasp and he doubled over. She didn’t give him time to recover but shifted and planted both feet on his hips and began to shove him right out the side of her bower.
He fought her, of course, but she escaped his grasp. His fists filled with crumpled silk. “If I fall out now, everyone will see it,” he warned. “You do not have enough ivory to silence so exciting a story–a man in a potential bride’s palanquin.”
She paused. One last push and he would go tumbling through the curtains out into the dirt where he belonged. “They already know from the weight,” she said miserably.
“No, they don’t. They carried me here, remember? They only remember your added weight, which is very slight.”
She swallowed, torn between her two miserable options. Did she kick him out and pray that people believed in her purity? Never. Or did she let him stay and hope no one was the wiser? “How did you get in here in?”
“I slipped in when they rested; I can slip out again at the gates. I do it all the time and no one notices.”
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see more of him. He was not a broad man like those carrying the palanquin, but tall like her father. His clothing was excellent, though the long queue down his back was misshapen from his sleep.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“A lackey for the Son of Heaven,” he said with obvious bitterness.
“Eunuch?” she asked hopefully. It was well known that some of the “cut” men were overly friendly.
He released a sharp bark of laughter at that, and she abruptly shushed him. “No,” he said in a lower tone. “I am not so important as to be cut.”
She frowned. “I thought all minions to the Emperor were eunuchs. Else who would do the things the royals despise?”
“Me,” he groused. “And a few others.”
She shook her head. “I do not believe you.” It was well known that except for a few intimates of the Emperor, all men in the Forbidden City were eunuchs. If this man was an imperial friend, he’d have own conveyance and therefore no need to borrow hers. The eunuchs, on the other hand, would often escape into Peking for pleasure. They would also, therefore, need a secret way back into the Forbidden City.
She narrowed her eyes, inspecting this man more closely. “You dress too fine to be common. You speak too well to be ignorant. And your hands...” She jutted her chin at his long, elegant fingers. “They are used to a brush and ink, not labor. You must be a secretary then, someone who works as an assistant to the Emperor.” She sighed in relief. “Which means you are a eunuch pretending to be whole. There is nothing exciting about an overly friendly eunuch, even if he lands in thedirt.” And with that, she shoved him out of her bower.
He tumbled backwards into the dust. She would forever remember the look of stunned shock on his face as he fell. And when she rolled over to peer after him, she heard the porters laugh. The Insolent One, as she now dubbed him, had landed in some rotting leaves. His fine dark clothing was smeared with grime. She couldn’t see his face, though, as the porters carried her on by.
Then, with a sigh, she deftly removed two strings of ivory beads from her headdress. She would have to bribe the porters into silence. That was a great deal of money to lose before she even reached the gates, but there was no hope for it. She couldn’t risk them speaking, even about an insolent eunuch. All in all, her father’s grand gesture–like all his great gifts–had cost too much money to be worthwhile.
Thankfully, she was about to change all that. When she became an imperial bride, money would flow like water through her family’s door. And on that happy thought, she reclined alone on silk cushions and waited for the first test.
