Page 39 of A Song to Drown Rivers
From the uneasy glances shared between the other attendants, they all seemed to think the same thing.
A fresh wave of fear crashed against my ribs. Would the king take offense? Would he assume I was mocking him? Would he see straight through me?
Then Fuchai smiled. He had not done so all morning, and the entire atmosphere shifted in response, the air lightening at once.
“Bring it here, Xishi,” he said.
My knees were so weak from both fear and relief that I had to focus on walking in a straight line, the small pebble gripped tight in my fingers. When I reached his throne, he held out his palm, and waited, still smiling. His gaze was disarmingly gentle, like the breeze that had risen around us.
I placed the pebble into his hand, and he stared down at thecoarse, rudimentary thing as if it were a treasured prize, better than all the gold and jade and porcelain the others had showered him with, unlike anything he had ever seen.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I will remember you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The birthday decorations had barely been takendown before the king’s servant appeared outside my chambers.
“His Majesty has asked for you to accompany him tonight,” he called.
My heart pounded.Finally.It seemed my gift had made an impression after all; he really had remembered me. But I did not move to bathe in rose water and change into a set of fresh robes, as was expected of me. I could not relinquish an opportunity so easily. If I went to him tonight, like a beautiful, obedient bride, there would be no anticipation left, no intrigue.
So instead I turned my back to the lattice sliding doors and replied with forced calm, “Tell him I am too tired. Perhaps another time.”
A beat of drawn silence.
I could feel my heartbeat quickening, my blood rushing fiercely through my veins. There was a risk, I was aware. A chance his goodwill from the gift would shatter. A chance his impatience wouldtriumph over his curiosity, and he would order my banishment from the palace, or perhaps my immediate execution. I squeezed my eyes shut against the image of a falling blade, my blood seeping through cold stone.
“One should be most honored by such an invitation,” came the servant’s eventual reply. I could hear the incredulity in his voice, and beneath it, the unspoken accusation:Who do you think you are to deny the king what he wants?“Many would kill for it.”
“That does not change the fact that I’m tired,” I said firmly, and walked deeper into my chambers, my long robes sweeping the floors. I spent the rest of the night wide awake, restless, listening for the sound of footsteps, half convinced the servant would return with my sentence. But only the osmanthus branches tapped my window, and the flames of lanterns burned low.
Another invitation came the next evening.
“His Majesty hopes you are well rested now,” the servant said. Even with the door between us, his sneer was obvious. “He would like to see you tonight.”
I chewed my lip. I ought to already be grateful I had been kept alive. But how long could I stretch this out for? How far until the king’s tolerance snapped? “I’m afraid I cannot. My heart has been acting up again,” I said, and it was not a lie. Ever since I had parted with Fanli on the canal, the pain had burrowed deep into my chest like a scrabbling creature. In everything I did, I felt its terrible ache, my body’s betrayal.
“No wonder they say the girls of Yue are raised without manners,” the servant muttered, his footsteps turning away.
But he was back by the next evening, and again, the one after that. Each time I turned him away with bated breath, aware that my excuses were wearing thinner and thinner, that at this rate the king would either grow obsessed with me, or grow to hate me. I wish I could say it was all strategy, but there was alsofear. I did not know how he would act once we really were alone together.
“Are you sure this will work?” Zhengdan asked one afternoon, when the servant left.
“Of course,” I said, with far more certainty than I felt. It had been ten days already. Perhaps the king would give up. Perhaps he would find someone more willing, more eager to please. There were so many women in the palace, each as lovely as a water lily. “It must work.”
When I heard the footsteps outside my chambers, I was already prepared.
“Tell His Majesty I am about to sleep,” I said, running a comb through my glossy hair. “Perhaps another day.”
But I was not met with the servant’s bitter complaints, as I was accustomed to. Instead, the doors creaked open, and King Fuchai himself stood in the entrance, a black brocade cloak draped around his shoulders, the sky darkening to violet behind him. His eyes glinted, the corner of his mouth twisting upward. Too sharp to be a smile, too sincere to be a sneer.
The air froze in my lungs. “Your Majesty.” I set the comb down and dropped into a low curtsy, keeping my eyes on his face.
“What game are you playing?” he asked softly, closing the door behind him. At once the space inside seemed to shrink, the distance between us narrowing. I wished to retreat, but that would be a sign of weakness.
Instead I tipped my chin up. “I am not playing any games,” I said.
“Then why do you not wish to see me?” he pressed, steppingforward. His voice gave me pause. There was something surprising in it; he sounded almost hurt.
