Page 89 of Never Ever After

I edge closer to Prince Zixin, letting our arms graze, then shift away. Heat sparks, a trace of the accursed attraction I’d felt for him once. I should hate him—I do. I just have to keep reminding myself of it, to not be snared in the farce I’m weaving.

I tilt my head back, closing my eyes partway—my heart beating in a skittering, frantic rhythm. These games of the heart are still unfamiliar, I’m grasping at the little I know… though it all feels wrong. “Your Highness, is there somewhere I can rest? Someplace quiet?”

He nods to an attendant. “Prepare a bowl of broth to be delivered to Miss Yining’s chamber. It will help with the headache.” He rises and offers me his hand. “I will walk you back,” he says, misunderstanding my intent.

His solicitousness surprises me. But I don’t want this right now; I want him to be a villain, to loathe him unwaveringly.

I look directly at him. “Is there a place we can speak, where we won’t be disturbed?”

Prince Zixin smiles, a knowing one, like he’s received many such invitations. “Send the bowl to my chambers,” he orders the attendant.

Even with Dian’s herbs, the warmth of the wine seeps into me, my head beginning to spin. Quickly I reach for an apricot, biting into the soft flesh. It tastes like honey as I lick the juice from my lips. The prince’s gaze is riveted on my mouth. As I wipe my fingers against a piece of silk—he catches my hand, his thumb gliding across my wrist in a firm stroke.

“Are you still hungry?”

I shake my head. His grip tightens yet is still light enough that I can pull away. The strength has fled my limbs as I follow him down the dais, trailed by his attendants and guards. I stumble once, unintentionally, Prince Zixin’s hand moving up my elbow to steady me, his eyes meeting mine.

For a moment, I’m caught in his fathomless gaze, traveling through the past—imagining we aren’t who we are, that his father didn’t kill my mother, that his family isn’t trying to destroy my home, that he isn’t caging the dragon in the seal and keeping my ring from me… that he’s the prince I’d dreamed of, who’d lift me from life’s troubles rather than being the root of them.

But I can’t be a fool anymore, believing in fairy tales. Life has become too dangerous for them.

CHAPTER FORTY

P rince Zixin’s courtyard is close to mine but set back from the main path. It’s said to be the heart of the Palace of Nine Hills but appears cleaved away with the high walls circling it. Soldiers flank the entrance, dozens more patrolling the area, watchful and alert.

I quicken my step to keep pace with the prince, his stride longer than I’m used to. We enter through the red lacquered doors into a vast courtyard. Towering trees shield the place from outside, delicate sprays of water arching from a marble fountain, glimmering like rainfall as they catch the light from the lanterns. A wide building rises from the middle of the courtyard, its walls gleaming like mother-of-pearl, its sloped roof adorned with small gold sculptures of animals.

My old home would fit five times over into the building. Inside, the candles are already lit, a sandalwood fragrance drifting from an incense burner. Miniature trees planted in carved bronze pots are set in each corner. The windows are latticed in a design of squares interlaced with gilded flowers, closed and latched from within. A silk carpet covers the wooden floorboards, embroidered with scenes of a forest, of birds alighting on branches, clusters of red jujube dangling beneath. Yellow brocade covers are tucked neatly into the large bed by the side of the room, the curtains drawn back and tied to the posts.

As Prince Zixin’s attendants follow us inside, I frown. “Are your attendants present even when you sleep, Your Highness?” I want no witnesses tonight, even if the price is merciless gossip tomorrow.

A beat of silence pulses through us. “It depends on who is with me,” he says at last.

“Do I look dangerous?” I ask archly.

“I’ve seen you use a dagger. You’d make a fine assassin.”

It doesn’t sound like a joke when he says it, but I laugh anyway. “Does Your Highness think I could beat you in a fight?”

“An intriguing challenge; you did defeat my general. I would even enjoy finding out,” he drawls, his black eyes sliding to my face. “But I’m not in the mood for fighting tonight.”

With a curt command, Prince Zixin dismisses the attendants. They leave at once, pulling the doors shut after them with a heavy thud—cutting off the ripple of the fountain. Hopefully, all sound from within is buried too. Alone with him, my pulse races, not in the flutter of anticipation but an uneven, jolting rhythm. As he pulls off his outer cloak and tosses it over a wooden rack, my eyes are drawn to the broad silver sash around his waist. The iron seal dangles from it, revulsion flooding me at the thought of the dragon cruelly caged within those lightless walls.

The prince stalks toward me, his gaze startlingly bright. Without a word, he pulls me into his arms with an impatience that steals my breath. His hand curls around my nape as his body edges mine against the wall. He pulls a jade comb from my head, then another, dropping them to the floor as my hair tumbles down my back. A memory flashes, of how I’d felt pinned this way by Songmin, the farmer’s son. The near-constant pain in my head pierces deeper. When my hand flies up as a shield between us, his fingers capture mine, trapping them to the wall. He touches me like he’s sure I want him—I’d teased him tonight, invited myself here. But pressed against him now, my body is stiff and unyielding, my mind clouded. Even as I knew this would be dangerous, as I’d tried to prepare myself… now that it’s happening, I’m caught unaware. Afraid.

Prince Zixin lowers his face to me, but I turn aside, his mouth sliding along my jaw, trailing down my neck. I’m not kissing him back, my eyes screwed shut—my hands bracing to shove him away. But then, he stops abruptly, his breathing unsteady.

“What is wrong?”

I look down like I’m uncertain, like I’m fighting my own desire. “This is… too fast. I need time.”

“I thought you wanted this.” His tone is calm yet taut. “Why did you want to be alone with me?”

“I didn’t realize… I’m not used to this,” I say awkwardly.

He touches my cheek with surprising gentleness, then pushes himself away. “We have time. There is no rush.”

I tuck away a lock of loose hair, trying to regain control of myself. He is staring at my hand, the one with Dian’s amethyst ring. I tuck it behind my back—but he catches my wrist, brushing a finger across the purple stone.