Page 36 of A Song to Drown Rivers
He waved a hand, and the physician immediately scurried forward, his already-stooped back bent so low I thought it might break in two. “Tell me what happened.” Fuchai’s eyes flashed like lightning across a storm-black sky. “Nothing of mine should be injured within these palace walls.”
Nothing of his.No wonder he was so worried. He took it as a personal insult to see a possession damaged, just as he would distress over the wounding of one of his best steeds, or his favorite coat.
“No, it’s really nothing,” I gasped. The physician bent closer, examining the cut in my flesh, careful not to touch me without the king’s permission. “It’s my own fault…”
I like to think that Zhengdan and I had developed a mutual understanding, a shared sensitivity by this point, for she picked this moment to speak over me. “It’smyfault, Your Majesty. I was trying to dust the upper shelves, and she—she insisted on helping—and the vase slipped from the top and shattered. She didn’t want to call you away from state affairs, but the cut was so deep… I was afraid…”
Fuchai’s brows creased. “Why wouldyoube dusting the upper shelves? That’s work for servants, not palace ladies, and certainly not concubines.”
We both went silent, letting him figure it out for himself. I supposed I was lucky then, that the king of Wu was not so dull-witted as our kingdom’s rumors said, or else we might have remained like that forever, my shoulder bleeding and the physician crouched before me and him just standing there, waiting for an answer.
“Have no servants come to aid you?” He stared around the chambers, as if truly seeing it for the first time. The cobwebs sticking to the high beams and closets, the fine layer of yellow dust that covered the window ledge, the barrels left empty, the sheets unchanged. His eyes narrowed. “Have no servants been hereat all?”
The physician, who had started applying some herbal paste to my wound using a long swab, trembled violently at the change in his tone, as though he were the one who’d drawn the king’s ire. Even I felt a prickling of fear. There was an alchemy to such things; even if I did not recognize Fuchai asmyking, and even if I were plotting to bring an end to his kingdom, I was keenly attuned to what the crown on his head could do, the power it carried. Perhaps this was another survival instinct.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, still looking around him. “And what chambers have you been assigned to? It is so far away from everything. No,” he said decisively, “this kind of gross negligence will not do. I must speak to the maids.”
Suddenly an image of ten young girls felled like stalks of grass sprang to my mind, their blood flowing to form a river over the golden halls. If the palace was a place of tigers and wolves, then the servants were rats, easy prey. My stomach clenched.
“I do not believe the maids were aware of where we stayed, Your Majesty,” I said as softly as I could. The paste had started to sting,its bitter herbal smell burning my nostrils. “Perhaps—perhaps there was a miscommunication.”
His expression softened. He lowered himself on the side of the bed, shaking his head. “You are so considerate of them. Know that if the positions were reversed, they would not hesitate to throw your life away, so long as it diverted the blame from their own necks.”
I knew. Of course I knew.
“It’s all right,” I insisted. “The wound looks worse than it is. I’m embarrassed you even had to come in person for such a matter.”
Fuchai made an impatient, batting motion at the physician. “Leave the medicine with me,” he ordered, taking over the herbal paste. “I’ll handle it.”
“B-but—but Your Majesty.” The physician’s voice quavered, his body shaking like a leaf. “Your Majesty, I thought you had a court session scheduled for this afternoon…”
Fuchai hesitated.
Sensing an opportunity, I let out a pitiful gasp, and pretended to double over, clutching at my shoulder. The medicine was surprisingly effective; in truth, the pain had already began to numb. But he could not know that.
“No,” Fuchai said firmly, waving his sleeve again, his gaze on me. “Tell them I have other matters to attend to.”
The physician didn’t dare say anything else. To speak up the first time could be interpreted as offering a kind reminder; to speak up again would be to defy the king’s orders. He quickly bowed and left the building. Zhengdan excused herself shortly afterward too, but not before turning slightly at the front doors and catching my eye with the subtlest nod. A look that saidbe careful, andgood luck.Then it was just me and the king. I felt as if I had been left alone with a wolf.
“Now that everyone’s gone,” Fuchai said, a small smile playingat his lips, “we can speak to each other casually. It’s so tedious, isn’t it?Court speech.” He rolled his eyes, as if he were speaking of some dull play. “All those ministers as stiff as wood.”
It could have been a trap. But it could also be a chance to draw him closer, to do what few other concubines dared, leave a mark on his mind. Before I made him love me, I needed to make him remember me. “Then… may I call you by your name?” I ventured. “Or do you preferYour Majesty?”
He did not reply at first, he was so focused on applying the medicine. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and after each light dab of the swab, he leaned forward and blew on the wound. And every now and then, when I flinched sharply for dramatic effect, he would apologize and slow his movements. I’ll admit: I would never have expected such tenderness from a wolf.
But still, some part of me kept waiting for him to bare his fangs. Who knew when he might change his mind, whether he would grow bored of playing the healer and seek out a more pleasurable activity? We were already sitting on my bed, the doors shut, the windows locked. And this was the king who had a reputation for his visits to the brothels, his love of pretty women.
“You can,” he said, jolting me from my thoughts.
It took me a moment to remember what he was referring to. “All right,” I said slowly, testing the waters. “Fuchai.”
His mouth split into a wide grin, and he gazed at me with sudden charm. “I like how it sounds. Say it again.”
“Fuchai.”
He leaned back a moment, eyes closed, content, like a cat lapping up the sun. “God, it’s been so long since anybody has called me that.”
In my kingdom, even the king did not refer to himself by his real name. But I acted surprised. “Nobody?”
