“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, as though unaccustomed to apologizing. “I shouldn’t have made fun of you when you were trying to tell me something important.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Yet there was no rancor in my voice; his apology had blunted my resentment. It was heartfelt and kind, both of which I had encountered little of since leaving my home.
“If you’re still willing to tell me, I would be honored to listen.” He inclined his head with unexpected formality.
I snorted. “I would hardly describe this as an honor, but I appreciate your clumsy attempt at flattery.”
“Clumsy?” It was his turn to scowl. “Did it work?” he asked, unrepentantly.
I could not suppress my smile. “Unfortunately.”
As an awkward silence settled over us, I plucked a long blade of grass and wound it between my fingers.
“So, why do you dread each day?” he probed.
I tied a knot in the grass, and then another. It was easier to look at it than at him. “Because I have nothing to look forward to. I’m a failure and no matter what I do, how hard I try—nothing will ever change. Have you ever felt this way? Helpless?” At once, I chided myself for being a fool. Someone like him would never understand.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“You do?” It was not that I doubted him, but he seemed to be one of those golden creatures who possessed more than their fair share of blessings. I knew nothing of him except his appearance and fine garments, yet his assured manner heralded privilege louder than bloodlines or titles.
He leaned back, resting his palms on the grass. “Everyone has their own troubles; some lay them bare while others hide them better. For myself, I do what I can to stretch the boundaries which chafe, even if it’s just a little each time. Who knows when the slightest shift might make a difference?”
What he said struck a chord in me. I had berated myself for being weak, but had that been an excuse for doing nothing? These past months I had been a shadow of myself, hollowed by grief and self-pity. It was true that I possessed no powers to speak of, no friends or family to aid me. But I was not helpless, not even when those soldiers had chased Ping’er and me. I had taken a wild chance then, rather than await certain capture. So why not here? Where shelter came at the price of my dignity and dreams? I might not find a means out now, but through small nudges, little steps—I might carve my way after all, one that might lead me home.
A giddy relief swept over me, unexpected yet welcome. I was grateful to him, this odd-mannered man—at times offensive, yet courteous and kind. Oh, my situation was still dire but my spirit, while bruised, was unbroken. Perhaps all it had taken was finally being seen as a person again. As myself. To be reminded there was life beyond the Golden Lotus Mansion once I broke this cycle of misery, which I had somehow trapped myself into believing was my only path forward.
“I would leave tomorrow, but I have nowhere to go,” I muttered fervently.
“What about your family? Your friends? Can’t they help?”
My face shuttered. My mother and Ping’er were lost to me. “I have no one.”
“Have your parents . . . passed?” he asked tentatively.
I shuddered at the thought, wishing I had not spoken of my mother. The mortals believed it courted bad luck to even speak such things aloud. Too many fears still shrouded my heart, of too many things which could go wrong.
His expression softened. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, taking my silence as an answer.
Guilt lay heavy on my tongue. I did not want to lie to him, yet I could not tell him the truth. But worse still was claiming his sympathy which I had no right to. I opened my mouth to correct him, to utter the words that would dispel his compassion and leave him a disinterested stranger once more—but the sound of footsteps cut me off.
It was Lady Meiling, stalking toward me in a rustle of brocade. I leapt to my feet, fighting the familiar dread spreading through me. The air shifted with the heat of her aura, anger rolling off her in waves. I was well versed in the stages of her temper and from the scarlet mottling her cheeks, she was truly furious.
“Xingyin! How long does it take to clean one small stain?”
I winced at the sharpness in her tone, even as something hardened along my spine. No apology sprang to my tongue, nor did I drop my gaze.
My silence seemed to enrage her further. “How dare you sit here, idling about and chatting to strangers?” She cast a scornful look at my new acquaintance, but then a strange and wonderful thing happened. Her face drained of color, a gasp sucked from her lips. Dropping to her knees, she cupped her hands together, holding them before her as she folded over in a formal bow—to the young man who had risen to stand beside me.
“Lady Meiling greets His Highness, Crown Prince Liwei.” Her voice turned as sweet as honey. “If we had known you were honoring us with your presence, we would have prepared a proper welcome.”
I would have followed her to sink to my knees, too, but all I could manage was to stare at him in disbelief. Why didn’t he tell me who he was? He had not lied either, I reminded myself. Gone was the gentle young man I had confided in; in his place was a lord, secure in his might. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression aloof. If I had seen this side of him earlier, I might have fled.
He nodded to her with cool formality. “Lady Meiling, what has this attendant done to earn such a harsh rebuke?”
A soft sigh slid from her as her shoulders drooped. How frail and lovely she appeared right now, like a rose stripped of its thorns.
“Your Highness, I have always treated those who serve me as though they were my own family. What you witnessed was just a slip in my temper, caused by this attendant’s repeated offenses.”
Strangled sounds emerged from my throat which I choked back down. Prince Liwei’s expression was inscrutable. Did he believe her? And why did my spirits sink at the thought?
“How has she offended you?” His tone was pleasant, yet he did not give Lady Meiling permission to rise.
“She spoiled my favorite garment and tried to lie her way out of it.”
“I did not lie!” I cried out, all decorum forgotten.
Prince Liwei’s back stiffened a little. Did he regret being drawn into this trivial squabble? Such were my days at the Golden Lotus Mansion; an incessant stream of pettiness which wore away and gnawed at me. But no more, I decided. My encounter with the prince—inexplicable though it was—had reminded me that I did not need to meekly walk the path set before me. I would seek and use all the advantages I could find, even that of his position now.
“Did you see her ruin your garment?” he asked Lady Meiling.
She hesitated. “No, I heard from—”
His hand flew up, cutting her off. “Lady Meiling, you appear quick to cast blame without proper investigation.” He took the cloak from me and looked at the blot, which all my efforts so far had failed to lessen. The air warmed as golden light streaked from his palm into the silk. The stain disappeared, the cloak drying as though it had never been wet.
His magic was strong! As was the ease with which it flowed from him. How I wished I could do that. The gale which had sprung up to snatch Ping’er to safety seemed a distant dream. If it had come from me, I had no idea how to do it again. When I closed my eyes, I still caught tantalizing glimpses of the lights within me, but they darted away the instant I reached out. My attempts were halfhearted at best—the sight of them stabbed me with fear and remorse. If only I had not drawn the empress’s attention, I would still be home. Maybe Ping’er would have eventually taught me how to use my powers. I thought, bitterly, what use was magic when it was untrained? And there would be little hope of advancing my skills as long as I remained here.