Page 22 of Never Ever After

Prince Zixin’s eyebrows arch, a smile breaking across his face. “That depends on how long you stay.”

CHAPTER NINE

M y mind goes blank as I stand there, still clutching my shoe. The Prince of the Iron Mountains has allowed me to stay. Somehow, I’m a guest at the Palace of Nine Hills instead of a prisoner. The prince must not have seen me steal the invitation, else he’d never have believed my story, even though it was the truth.

“Keep your shoe for now,” Prince Zixin tells me. “I won’t ask for payment yet.”

I slide it back on awkwardly; everyone must be laughing at me. “Where will I stay?” I ask uncertainly. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“Anything you need will be provided,” the prince replies, like it’s nothing to him. The Palace of Nine Hills must house hundreds at his pleasure. He nods at the chief attendant. “Prepare a room for our guest in the Pear Blossom Courtyard. She will dine with me tonight.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Chief Attendant Mai bows, though his mouth is clamped thin.

A few attendants are preparing a table beside the prince, others hurrying from the hall. Another ushers me up the dais to take my seat. As I glance at the tray beside Prince Zixin, the one with my handkerchief and silver, he picks them up and offers them to me.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” My fingers graze his palm as I take my belongings, tucking them into my sash.

In the silence, a flush steals over me, a curious light flaring in his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m wondering what it’s like to issue commands and have everyone rush to fulfil them.” It’s the first thing that comes into my mind—also the right one, as his mouth slants into another smile.

He reaches out to pluck a grape from the plate. “It’s new for me too. When my father was alive, they danced to his tune, his orders. As they should for the king.” He says the last with a note of satisfaction, maybe at the power now within his grasp.

“What is your name?” he asks abruptly.

“Yining.” It comes out in a half breath, in a voice that isn’t quite mine. I don’t ask for his name—everyone in the kingdom has known it since his birth. It doesn’t feel real that I’m sitting next to him, the prince of the realm whose face I’d only seen in paintings.

An attendant sets down plates of food before me, my mouth watering at the delicious aromas: roast quail, prawns fried with peppercorns, thin slices of beef, wild mushrooms, and rice. Only now do I realize how hungry I am, impatient to eat though afraid of appearing greedy, of breaking some unknown rule.

“There are so many dishes. How can I eat everything?” I’m remembering the coarse rice I usually eat, the bony fish and sinewy meat on the days we’re lucky to have it. While in recent years, Mistress Henglan and I have made a decent living, we’ve never had food like this—not even when my uncle was alive, not even on festival days.

“You’re not meant to eat everything.” He laughs a little. “Anything left will be given to the servants or thrown away.”

It feels wrong to waste such food. I pick up my chopsticks, trying to emulate the manners of those around me. But most are staring at us—at him—from the honored guests seated closer to the dais, to the countless others clustered around the center of the hall. Toward the far end, I catch sight of Farmer Lan looking my way, a pinched expression on his face. At once, I lift my head higher, my smile brightening.

“Does their attention bother you?” Prince Zixin asks, still toying with the grape like he has no intention of eating it.

“Do they always watch you, Your Highness?”

“Those bored with their own lives find thrill in gossiping about others.” As Prince Zixin’s gaze falls to my hands, he frowns. “Your knuckles are bruised.”

I can’t tell him I punched through a window to escape; he wants to be amused, not horrified. I take a mouthful of beef, chewing the tender meat slowly as my mind works. “An accident. I fell when climbing a tree yesterday.”

“Were you hurt? Do you need to see a physician?”

I shake my head, warmth flashing through me at his concern. “Just a few bruises.” My answer is short; I’m hoping he’ll stop asking questions. Too many lies will snare me whole.

“Where are you from?” he wants to know.

“Up north, several hours’ walk from here.” It’s unlikely His Highness has ever visited any of the villages sprawled across the realm.

“What do you do for a living? Do you have a farm or orchard?”

“I tend to our crops, picking the fruit.” I don’t mention the trees aren’t mine. It’s easier to lean into his expectations of a tranquil life in the countryside.

He discards the grape, then runs a finger over the gilded rim of his cup. “It must be peaceful.”

“It’s quiet,” I agree, adding with a grin, “but most of the time you’d be ankle-deep in dirt. It’s hard work from dawn to dusk.” Not as hard as the mines.