A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1) (21)
I straighten my posture to match his. If I am to be removed from the competition, I can exit with dignity at least.
“Zhang Ning,” he says, voice hard as granite. “You are aware your … choices last night have consequences?”
Moments fly through my mind like arrows shot into the night. The implication of the poet’s words. The shattered teacup.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper. Regret spreads into my limbs, making me wish I could crumble into ash in front of him. If only I had the courage to look at him, defiant, to name myself as a revolutionary. But I am nothing except cowardice. “I meant no harm.”
He sighs and rubs his chin with his thumb. “I will not lie to you, child. Your path forward in this competition will be difficult. You have gained the animosity of the Marquis of ānhé. If he had his way, you would be out of the competition already.”
My hope sinks, heavy as a stone. I am to be sent back to Sù. I am certain of it.
“You are lucky the princess indicated she was interested in seeing more of your skills.” He turns to face me, gaze intent. “I also see potential in you.”
I lower myself to my knees, legs weak with fear and relief.
“You are too kind to someone as unworthy as me,” I murmur.
“Please, stand.” He grasps my arm and helps me up, but his next words send a trickle of cold down my spine. “I hesitate to call it a kindness. You will be placed under careful scrutiny. One more misstep, and you will be thrown into the dungeons.”
I force myself to look at him. With his neatly trimmed beard, the set of his jaw, he reminds me a little of my grandfather—they both have a commanding presence. I meet his steady gaze, sensing no malice there, only a warning.
“If we uncover any ties between you and the assassins, then you and everyone you care about will be banished to Lǜzhou. You and your family will die there, along with any other co-conspirators who are foolish enough to oppose the emperor.”
“I understand.” I manage to force the words out. Lǜzhou is a peninsula and a collection of islands to the east. Also known as the Emerald Isles, it is known to be the most dangerous place in the empire, where ruthless criminals are exiled in service to the kingdom. They are destined for backbreaking work in the salt marshes or the stone quarries. To live there is to await a slow death.
Chancellor Zhou sighs and waves his hand, dismissing me.
I flee, afraid still for my place in the palace. I have drawn attention to myself, and not the kind of attention that will benefit my position. I have to be especially careful of how my actions will affect the way the judges view me. It’s clear that if I make the wrong step, my family will suffer. I will not forget again.
What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
I return to the residence to find Lian picking away at her bowl of congee.
“You’re here!” She shoots up out of her seat, her spoon falling to the table with a clatter. “What happened? What did the minister say?”
I sit down on the stool with a sigh, my face in my hands. “I spoke with the chancellor instead. He wanted to make sure my family are not revolutionaries. I’m permitted to stay in the competition for now, but I’ve made an enemy of the marquis.”
“The marquis.” Lian snorts, sitting down again. She pours us both cups of tea. I accept mine with a nod, grateful for the warmth between my hands. “That old toad. So set in his ways.”
The familiarity with which she speaks about the ministers and the officials in the palace reminds me to ask, “Lian, how do you know so many officials of the court?”
“You didn’t know?” She looks at me, then says with a casual shrug, “I’m the daughter of the diplomat to the western kingdoms, Ambassador Luo.”
“That’s why you are so familiar with the palace…” I process this revelation slowly. “And why you know everyone from Kallah.”
She gives me a wry smile. “We are bound by the sky tenets. My mother believes in knowing your people, that we are all one family.”
“In Sù we do not see many people from outside our province,” I tell her. “Pardon my ignorance.”
Lian laughs. “Don’t be so formal with me, Ning. I hate the rigidity of the court. I feel more comfortable on horseback under an open sky.”
I nod. I can understand that. Just like my place used to be among the plants of the medicine garden. Someday I will return to the rows of tea trees and call myself a Daughter of Shénnóng.
Lian tells me about her home while we nibble on our now-cold breakfast. Kallah is a small province. Some of its more agriculturally minded people have settled in pockets of fertile areas. Others live a nomadic life, raising animals on the grasslands. They trade mostly with those from Yún province, which is why Shao must have mistaken her for a girl from Yún.
The freedom she describes is alluring. She doesn’t have to settle in the same village and see the same faces for the rest of her life. She’s free to travel where she wants. She’s probably seen more of the world than any of us, traveled farther than I could have ever imagined.
Lian suddenly throws her chopsticks down. “I can’t stand this cold congee. It isn’t enough to sustain me. Let’s go to the kitchens.”
I protest, mindful of the rules and my new status as “one to be watched,” but Lian ignores me as she purposefully strides through the gardens. I half expect the guards to stop us from entering the servants’ area, but they do not pay us any attention. Enticing scents drift by—smoke and roasted meat, the familiar smell of earthy herbs and damp fronds.