Page 54 of A Song to Drown Rivers
Fanli did not answer. His face was draining of color by the second, his eyes two black stones. His blood dripped steadily, pooling beneath his feet.
I couldn’t bear it any longer. I opened my mouth to yell, to demand that someone save him, but his eyes suddenly cut to me, a warning burning in them. Though the palace chambers were all but quiet, save for his ragged breathing, I heard his voice as clearly as if he’d spoken out loud:It’s a trap. Don’t fall for it, Xishi. You’re smarter than that.
I clenched my jaw. Beneath the buzz of my panic, the thunderous beat of my heart, I understood that this was the ultimate test.If I proved overly concerned for him, if I gave Wu Zixu and Fuchai any reason to suspect our relationship was anything beyond what was normal, then all our plans would be ruined. All that time I’d spent training with him, all my days wasted away from home, all my nights curled up alone in the cold, empty chambers, dreaming of him. All our scheming and strategizing, all our kingdom’s hopes and dreams.
“What do you think, Xishi?” Fuchai asked, turning to me, his movements slow and leisurely, another hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. Before, I had thought that I couldn’t possibly hate him more than I already did; I was horribly mistaken. “This man has wronged me in the past. How should I punish him?”
My throat ached as I made myself laugh, a bright, tinkling sound, as if the person suffering meant nothing to me, instead of everything. I had to convince the king. That was the only way he would release Fanli alive. “However you like, Your Majesty,” I said, smiling slyly. I trailed a finger down his robe sleeves, over the place where a tiger was embroidered in silver thread. “Whatever makes you satisfied.”
And there was that dog of a man, Wu Zixu, staring up at me. He twisted the sword in deeper, and a harsh breath escaped Fanli’s clenched teeth, the first noise of pain. He swayed for a moment, his feet unsteady.
My head was on fire, my heart disintegrating. I wanted only to sob, but I just watched. I could not be the one to call for this to end. It had to be Fuchai, or Zixu.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Fuchai drawled, casting him a smile that revealed two pointed teeth. “Does it hurt as much as those scars on your back?”
Fanli merely looked back at the Wu king, his gaze steady and sharp as sword points, his back held deliberately straight. I hadlearned this about him long ago: he would never give anyone the pleasure of seeing him struggle. He hid all his pain, his doubts, his fears, and was so successful at it that the rumors had immortalized him as someone who felt nothing, who had no weaknesses, no soft spots from which to draw blood. But I knew him. I’d felt the stuttering beat of his heart, listened to the hitch in his breath. At the end of the day he was only a boy, too stubborn and disciplined for his own good.
I clenched my fingers inside my sleeves so tight I thought my knuckles might crack.Enough, I willed.Please. Enough. Stop this. I will do anything, so long as you stop this.
Another hiss. Another cold inch of the blade, pressing into flesh. I bit down on my tongue to stop from sobbing. One more move, and—
“This is getting rather tedious,” Fuchai said, rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his throne. “What is the point of tormenting someone if they won’t even react? He really is made of stone. Zixu, you can stop now.”
The minister looked unsatisfied, but nodded and tore his sword free with a terrible ripping noise. Blood splashed onto the palace floor. Fanli reeled back, his hand clutching at his wound, and steadied himself against the nearest pillar. I watched the sharp, staggered rise and fall of his shoulders. A dark strand of hair had slipped free from his neat topknot, hanging past his jaw. Sweat beaded above his brows. After a strained moment, he asked, his voice low and forcibly controlled, “Was there anything else you wanted, Your Majesty?”
Fuchai considered it for a beat. “No, nothing I can think of. Oh—do pass along my warm greetings to Goujian, won’t you? You’ve beensowonderfully generous to me.”
“Of course.”
Fanli began to turn with the stiff, wooden movements of onein silent agony. But as he did, he caught my eye. Just for a second, shorter than an exhaled breath. His complexion was pale and drenched in sweat, his mouth stained with his own blood. Yet I could’ve sworn his lips tugged up, the look on his face something like pride.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fanli left a trail of blood behind him.
I waited until Fuchai was called away to another meeting before following. I kept my face neutral, my movements unhurried as I searched for the signs of where Fanli had gone. The dark red smeared over the flat white tiles, caught on the overhanging twigs. Like that of an animal injured during a hunt, dragging its weak body away from the hounds to lick its wounds in silence. Blood, blood, blood, in the shape of his footprints.
I imagined him collapsing somewhere in the vast palace all on his own, his body turning cold. I imagined him stumbling through the darkness, hands reaching for support where there was none to be found. Nothing to hold on to. Nobody to help him.
My heart felt as if it were shedding flesh.
Around the corner of an empty corridor, the blood seemed to thicken and spread. It dripped from the leaves of a bamboo stalk, violently bright against the subdued greens. The trail stopped here.
I looked around, my breathing faint, my panic swelling fastbeneath the surface. Nobody ever came to this part of the palace; the closest chambers belonged to Lady Gu. Zhengdan had heard from the other ladies that she possessed a strange aroma, one that caused the grass to wither and the water to grow stale. Lies, of course, likely spread by a scheming minister or another jealous concubine to discourage Fuchai from giving her his attention. The only thing I could smell in the air now was the fragrance of bamboos and the rust of blood.
He had to be here. Hehad to. But where—
Suddenly, a hand clamped down over my mouth.
My scream died in my throat when I saw his face. Fanli, his eyes dark and urgent as he dragged me behind the closest wall with him, so we were both hidden by the shadows.
For a moment there was only perfect, shocked silence between us. He was standing—or trying to. He dropped his hand from my lips and leaned a shoulder against the brick, his posture strained, his features stiff with pain. My gut lurched when I saw how far the blood had already spread. The front of his robes looked as if it had been dyed red.
“You shouldn’t have followed me here,” he whispered. Each word sounded like it cost him something.
I swallowed. Blinked back the burning sensation in my eyes. “I know,” I said. “I know, I’ll leave quickly. I just need to see—I need to keep you alive.”
Somehow, he managed to smile. A thin trickle of light touched his face, patterned by the gaps between leaves. “I’m fine.”
