A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1) (44)
“And she returned to her family in Sù,” I say to myself softly. “She gave birth to me a few months later.”
This is why Father’s mouth turns into a hard line when I ask about his family. Why Mother’s face always smoothed into a blank mask when Shu would wonder aloud why some children had two sets of grandparents, while we had only one. I’m not even sure where Father’s family is. All I know is they are in one of the prefectures west of Jia, but we have never met them. His name must have been stricken from their family books in disgrace.
The implication of this knowledge stabs me in the chest. If Mother hadn’t gotten pregnant, she could have continued her comfortable life in the palace. As a favorite of the empress, she would have served her as shénnóng-shī and adviser. She would never have needed to toil in the fields. She would have walked among the nobles and the court officials.
“You are halfway through the competition, girl,” the steward scoffs. “You are just as intelligent as your mother. She risked everything to keep you. You know that, right? She fought for you and you are here, following her legacy. You are the symbol of her strength. Be careful. Don’t get yourself killed in the process.”
I stand and mumble my thanks. I stumble over my feet in my haste to get out of that suddenly suffocating room, heavy with the burden of my new knowledge.
* * *
To my relief when I return, I find our room empty. I sit down heavily on my bed, narrowly missing crushing the note Lian left for me.
Dear Ning, I have been called to be plucked like a chicken and paraded in front of musty old officials as part of Father’s diplomacy obligations. I will see you tomorrow.
Even though I am choking on tears, I still chuckle. Lian’s brashness, her carefree demeanor, feel so similar to my mother, forging her own destiny. I should follow their examples, instead of wallowing in my own self-pity. I pick up Mother’s pendant, wrap it in Shu’s handkerchief, and tuck it away in my sash. For them, I will be strong.
* * *
Without Lian’s company, I debate whether I should still join the other competitors for the evening meal. In the end, hunger wins out. I promised Steward Yang I would not associate with the kitchen staff any longer, and I’m not as confident as Lian, able to request extra portions from the serving staff without hesitation.
Each night, our meals are presented at the Fragrant Spring Garden, under the cover of the cluster of pavilions that sit in the middle of an ornamental garden paved with white stones. As our numbers grow fewer, we now eat under the central pavilion, separated by two stone tables. Lanterns sway in the breeze, lighting up the paths, and the air is scented by gardenia flower blooms.
Shao holds court at one table with those who remain of his friends, whose faces I have committed to memory. One of the loudest and most boorish among them is Guoming, who was present in the residence of the marquis. Even though the drunken buffoon who grabbed me was eliminated in the second round of the competition, I see all of them as complicit in the scheming. I’ve taken to avoiding them at every turn, casting my eyes down and continuing to behave as the quiet girl from the countryside who poses no threat.
Today we feast on sweet-and-sour fish, the carp cut into beautiful flower patterns and then fried, curling into petals. It’s bathed in a vividly red sauce cooked with vinegar. Giant lion’s head meatballs, bigger than my fist, have been cooked in their own juices, then ladled into bowls to be accompanied by greens and a light broth sweetened by mushrooms. Even something as simple as carrots and cucumbers have been turned into flowers as accompaniments, so that the platter appears to be a garden in bloom.
My head is still in turmoil from the revelations shared by the steward. What she told me explains why my parents were always so careful to keep Shu and me within the village. Why they rarely traveled, and why they never wanted to be in attendance when the emperor visited a nearby town on one of his summer tours. Why Father was so angry whenever I drew the attention of the soldiers.
I’m so focused on my food, I don’t notice I’m no longer alone until two fists strike the table in front of me. I jump, my spoon dropping out of my hand and hitting my bowl with a clatter. I look up, my mouth full of rice, only to see Shao looking down at me with a disapproving glare.
“You lost me money today, girl,” he drawls, his capital accent even more pronounced then usual. I can see over his shoulder the young men at the other table, elbowing each other and looking over at us, laughing.
I swallow, confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“He put down an entire coin purse betting you would fail this round,” one of his friends calls out, chortling. “I’m glad you proved him wrong.”
Heat flares in my face, and there’s a tightness in my chest. They’re … betting on who will win or lose?
“It was pure luck that she passed.” Shao turns back to me, regaining his composure. The lazy smile returns to his face. He dangles a small pouch in front of me, shaking it until I can hear the coins clink within. “Why don’t we make it more of a challenge for the rest of us? Take these coins, then you can leave. Return to the poor village you came from. Save yourself the embarrassment of defeat.”
The pouch lands on the table with a clatter, the silver contained within spilling out. I stand up, knocking my stool down behind me, arms trembling at my sides.