Page 41 of Never Ever After

At once I shake my head. “There’s no need to trouble anyone, Your Highness. Will the guards allow me back through the gate?”

She unfastens an ornament from her sash and hands it to me: a sandalwood tablet, engraved with her name. “Show this to the guards and they won’t stop you. You should keep tonight’s encounter to yourself. Too many eyes here search for ill intent where there’s none.”

“I will.”

As the princess climbs the stairs, I tie the ornament to my waist, waiting till she’s out of sight. Only then do I slip from the room into the wide corridor, taking the first unguarded path. Despite the princess’s gift, a restless fear needles me. How many like Anli are trapped here? I used to think the mines were the greatest nightmare, and I’m rapidly learning there are worse.

It’s quiet, seemingly abandoned, not even a lantern to lift the dark. In some places, weeds grow wild, a welcome reminder of life beyond. But what I seek can’t be here; it would be someplace more carefully guarded. I turn back to the main corridor, waiting till the soldiers move away before darting into a narrow path, one more brightly lit. A few steps in, my senses heighten like I’ve been swimming in cold water. As I inhale, my throat closes. The metallic tinge that pervades the palace is far stronger here. My stomach clenches as the smell thickens, my head beginning to pound. Footsteps sound, a large troop of guards approaching. I dart into a corner, pressing myself against the wall, not daring to breathe until they pass.

Something precious must be here, something they want to hide. Once the soldiers are gone, I hurry onward, keeping my steps light. Just ahead, a door is thrown open. Dazzling light sparks from within, scattering like fireflies. Metal clinks, followed by seething and hissing sounds. I angle myself to peer closer: Swords are lined in rows, some curved, others straight. Some possess the sharp glitter of my dagger, the rest the duller sheen of the iron typically found in the villages. Is this a forge? Soldiers are collecting the shimmering blades, laying those of plainer iron in their place. A tall man in a white robe stands before the weapons, his back to me. When he turns, the light from the lanterns illuminates his face.

Prince Zixin.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he iron seal the prince warned me against touching is clasped in his hand. The starfire above it shines so bright, it almost hurts to look upon it. Something clinks, the seal cracking apart—a melody rising, beautiful yet aching with grief. I lean closer, careless of discovery, anxious to catch a glimpse of the tiny creature who sings like its spirit is broken. Yet I can’t see it, hidden in the prince’s hands.

This must be what Jin seeks. Such a creature doesn’t belong in the Iron Mountains, trapped in the pitiless prison of the seal. A rash impulse seizes me to help it, burrowing through my selfish heart. I can’t explain this… just that its sorrow braids with mine. Yet there’s nothing I can do now—and every moment I linger, I risk discovery.

As I move away, the air thickens like a storm is approaching. Light flares from within the forge, blinding and incandescent. It blazes from the seal—or is it from the creature?—cascading over the swords like a river of starlight, its force as potent as standing beneath a waterfall.

Fear digs through my spine. This is magic. Not an illusion nor a trick, but powerful and real and terrifying. How is this possible? How is this here in the Iron Mountains, in the Palace of Nine Hills?

I squint, trying to make out the creature again, but it’s too bright, too small. As the song fades the brightness dwindles, leaving just the swords on the ground—now shining with that fierce glitter.

My mind races. The soldiers’ weapons, my dagger from the prince… such iron isn’t mined from the mountains, but infused with magic—the magic our rulers claim to revile. Their hypocrisy is boundless. If the creature in the royal seal was stolen as Jin says, it’s clear why those of Thorn Valley want it back. I curse Jin silently for entangling me in this. I thought he was searching for a missing pet, not a creature of unfathomable power—one that frightens me, yet stirs my compassion. Whatever this is, I shouldn’t have seen it. And if I’m caught here… Anli’s fate could be mine.

“Are these the last of the weapons?” Prince Zixin asks, his voice seeming to waver.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The chief attendant emerges from the back of the room. “Your Highness has worked hard these past months to equip our army well, to strengthen our wall, and to fulfil the tasks your father laid out in his final will. Once Your Highness chooses a suitable bride, the coronation can take place. But Your Highness must now rest, else you fall ill again.”

“I am glad this is over,” the prince says tersely.

The chief attendant sweeps a low bow. “Your Highness has done a great service for our kingdom, the heir your father deserves.”

Prince Zixin inclines his head as he turns away. Is he leaving? Panic grips me. With the soldiers following him, they’ll find me, trapped in these narrow confines. I back away, then race down the corridor, dashing into the room with the stairway. I take the steps two at a time, trying to keep my tread quiet. It doesn’t matter if I encounter the prince later—anywhere but here. My lungs are burning as I finally emerge into the small chamber, panting from the strain of sprinting up the stairs. I inhale deeply, the air here twice as sweet, not even minding the metallic tinge that usually bothers me. I’m sweating, my breathing ragged, trying to calm myself before encountering the guards at the gate. From below, I catch the thud of steps—the prince and his guards coming up the stairs.

I rush from the room, ducking into a cluster of trees. Shortly after, Prince Zixin and his group emerge. Once they pass through the gate, I wait several long moments before striding there. The guards nod at me, maybe recognizing me from earlier. As I hold out the sandalwood ornament from Princess Chunlei, they wave me through, none remarking on my disheveled appearance.

I make my way swiftly back toward my courtyard, smoothing down my hair, wiping the sweat from my brow. The main square is finally quiet, the workers gone. I’m walking so quickly, Prince Zixin is only a little ahead of me now. Just in front, the sight of my courtyard fills me with relief. But the prince halts by my entrance—then moves decisively toward it. As the guards dip into low bows, my heart almost stops.

“Your Highness,” I call out from behind him, smiling through clenched jaws, acting like there is nothing to hide.

He swings around, his eyes piercing. “Where were you?”

I bow to him, glad to hide my face. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.”

“You said you didn’t want to walk earlier.” Tension coils in his tone.

“That was before I ate,” I reply lightly. “Why is Your Highness here?”

“I wanted to speak to you.” He pauses, still looking at me. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

His unexpected bluntness is disarming—but I recall the girl in the cell, the one whipped for spilling tea on him. “Why don’t you come inside?” I offer as he stands there, his gaze expectant.

His guards remain outside as he follows me in, the doors closing after us. For the first time, we are truly alone—yet there’s no anticipation, just a crawling dread, a tightness in my chest. I sit by the table in my garden, reluctant to invite him into my rooms. Fortunately, someone has lit a lantern here, a silk orb swinging from a rosewood stand. White petals drift from the tree above, gliding like pale feathers.

Prince Zixin stares at them. “The flowers are beautiful.”