Page 46 of A Song to Drown Rivers
Immediately, a scrawny servant ran into the hall and fell to his knees with a loudthump. “Your Majesty, you must remember your grudge against the Yue king for causing the death of your father!” Then, as soon as he’d finished this dramatic little declaration, he got up and exited the room.
“See?” Fuchai said to the speechless court, swishing his sleeve in an irritable gesture as he sat back. “It’s rather hard to forget.”
“But—” Wu Zixu tried again, his fingers quivering.
“This meeting is over,” Fuchai decided, speaking over him. “I’ve made up my mind: We will not attack the Yue Kingdom, and focus instead on strengthening our kingdom from within. Goujian is not my enemy, nor a threat.”
There was no opening left for protests. As my heart lightened, all the ministers in the room sank into a deep bow and spoke in unison: “Yes, Your Majesty.”
But when Wu Zixu rose again, his glittering black eyes snapped to me, and the odd look in them made a chill snake down my spine.
“Do you know what they’re all saying about you?”
I raised my eyebrows at Zhengdan and shook my head silently. We were sitting together by the palace lake, warmed by fox furs and boiled ginger tea. Above us, the bare tree branches spread themselves out silently, dusted with white snow.
Zhengdan shot me a conspiratorial smile over her teacup. “They say you’re a nine-tailed fox spirit.”
I laughed. “Afox spirit? Really?”
“Well, that’s the most popular explanation. Everyone’s convinced you’ve cast some sort of spell on the king. Or else why would he keep returning to your chambers again and again?”
“What else do they say?” I asked, curious.
Zhengdan turned to Xiaomin, who was standing behind us. Ever since the incident with the poison, she’d proved just as loyal as she’d promised, coming early every morning to greet me with both fresh gossip and an ever-changing assortment of sweets from the kitchens.Don’t tell me you’ve poisoned these too, I’d said the first time she brought them. She had immediately fallen to her knees, babbling madly and swearing her innocence, until she realized I was joking.
“Xiaomin, come sit with us,” Zhengdan said, beckoning the young girl over.
She startled, as if unsure whether we were really talking to her. In the palace, maids were only summoned and spoken to when there was something that needed to be done. Then she approached us with small, hesitant steps, and lowered herself slowly onto the stone bench next to us.
“What have you heard from the maids?” Zhengdan asked.
She cleared her throat. “I— Well… Please don’t take offense, but—”
“Don’t worry, Lady Xishi is very hard to offend,” Zhengdan said, grinning at me. I rolled my eyes. “Just tell the truth.”
Xiaomin checked the area to make sure nobody was around, then lowered her voice. “In that case… the ministers—not all of them, but many… they’re concerned that Lady Xishi is too—involved—”
“Please don’t bother phrasing it delicately,” I told her, propping my chin up on my hands. “And don’t sacrifice accuracy for niceties. Not when you’re with me, at least.”
“All right… They think you’re meddling in affairs you shouldn’t be, and you’ll bring the whole kingdom to ruin,” Xiaomin blurted. “And—and that all the foolish decisions the king has made can be traced back to you.” As soon as the words left her lips, she flushed and looked at me with wide, terrified eyes, as if afraid I would suddenly spring down from the bench and strike her.
But I wasn’t angry at all. In fact, I wasn’t even surprised. How many women throughout history were blamed for the weaknesses of men? We made such convenient scapegoats. We were raised to be small, to be silent, to take whatever we were given and no more.
“Is this because of the palace?” Zhengdan asked. She absently picked up a pebble from the yellowed grass and threw it. It bounced once, twice, thrice before disappearing into the lake’s icy depths with a faint splash. She frowned, unsatisfied, and tried again, her face tight with concentration. This time, it bounced seven times.
I bit back a snort. Only Zhengdan could be competitive about something like skipping pebbles when there wasn’t even anybody around to compete with.
“Partly because of the palace,” Xiaomin agreed. She looked sidelong at me, chewing her lower lip. The longer we spent together, the more conscious I became of just how young she was. Sometimes I was tempted to call herxiaohai, for little kid, but we weren’t supposed to use such familiar language with the servants. And for all I joked with her, I would be lying if I said I trusted her completely.
“Whatever it is, just say it,” I told her, amused.
“Is it true?” she asked. “That you asked the king to build a palace just—just for you?”
“It’s true enough,” I said, watching Zhengdan as she flicked another flat pebble out. It skimmed the lake thirteen times, barely glancing the water surface. “Though it’d perhaps be more accurate to say that I won a palace.”
A week ago, I had brought Fuchai to this very spot and pressed a pebble into his hand, much like the one I’d given him for his birthday. “How about a competition?” I had challenged, grinning. “To make things more interesting.”
“What will the winner get?” Fuchai asked.
