A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1) (50)

At first, I am hesitantly grasping at those fragile connections, but as I continue to speak, the words begin to grow stronger. I can taste the sweetness of pear candy on my tongue, igniting other memories—the warmth of the Golden Key as we touched, how we sank into one another, a closeness that I both feared and craved. Maybe I drew on the magic, pulling him to me, but the magic draws on me in turn, binding me closer to him.

“And if you could go into the city, where would you go?” he asks.

“I heard there are shops selling teacups carved from bone or ivory. Foods from the north that I’ve never seen before. All these things I have yet to experience. But if I fail the competition, I will have to return home and give up all my dreams of becoming a shénnóng-shī. I do not have the coin to complete the training and attend the exams.” And of course, I will lose Shu if I fail this quest. The quaver in my voice is embarrassingly real.

Mother said there is power in words, in hopes we breathe into being. It dangles there before me, a dream once as far out of reach as the stars in the sky, my longing for a different life. A life that Mother had and then lost. She found her contentment later, but I still yearn for it.

“Before … it may have been possible,” he says. “But now my face is known to all the city guards. I cannot travel in this disguise as easily, and I do not think I would be able to walk freely in the market without the helmet.”

“It was a foolish thought.” I shrug, in an attempt to hide how much I care. But I do care, much more than I thought I would.

A small part of me believed perhaps a shénnóng-shī would take interest in me during the competition, take me on as an apprentice based on my potential. But after the way I fumbled during the first round, I doubt anyone would want me now. With the competition now closed to the public, there is no other chance. If I don’t win, I won’t be able to save Shu.

Unless I get the promised help from the princess in return for my spying: the cure-all stone for my sister and enough coin to take care of my family.

“My mother told me of private gardens cultivated by scholar families, or even Jia’s public gardens, where anyone may walk and admire the blooms,” I say, grasping at any other possibility for us to spend time alone, uninterrupted. “Sometimes I feel suffocated by this place, where everyone is always watching, waiting for you to make a mistake…” My voice trails off.

“I understand,” he says softly. “It’s a place where you’re not always sure if people wish you harm or mean well. That is one thing I did not expect to find in Lǜzhou. Where people say what they mean and mean what they say.”

“I would like to hear more about Lǜzhou,” I say. “If you are willing to tell me.”

The walls shake again as more soldiers march past. He grabs my hand suddenly, pulling me close. I look up at him, feeling a flash of mortification. Does he think I’m hopeful for a tryst? Is that the price I’ll have to pay to fulfill my task?

“I thought of another place I can take you to,” he whispers. “Somewhere I won’t be recognized. If you will trust me.” He brings my hand up, opening our fingers to touch, and presses his palm to mine. Trust.

I feel the sharp stab of embarrassment in my gut. It is only me, dreaming of flirtations. I nod, not trusting my voice not to betray me. He gives me the same lightning-quick grin that still makes my pulse stutter. I hope the connection between us does not pull too tight, and he remains oblivious to the thoughts still warring inside my traitorous mind.



* * *



I follow Kang as he checks to make sure there are no soldiers nearby, and we scurry to another alcove. This one contains a plum tree, white petals scattered on the stones below. Another stone lion, paws raised, waits at the base.

He pulls at an iron ring on the wall, and the mechanism slides open to reveal a hidden tunnel, just like the one Ruyi led me through when she took me to speak with the princess. How many other tunnels run through this place?

“Stay close,” he whispers to me when we are safely behind the door. “The tunnel gets tight in places, and sometimes we will pass right by the guards.”

I follow close behind, mindful of his warning. We’re able to walk comfortably side by side to start, but eventually have to walk one after another. After a time, the tunnel gradually begins to widen again before we emerge into a small chamber. There is a large iron brazier in the center, lit and emanating warmth. The light from the fire bounces off the plaques on the wall, making the inscriptions shine. There is no dust on the floor, no signs of insects or animals. It is obvious this room is well-cared for.

A bell rings somewhere above our heads. The sound of it is so close, it reverberates through my entire body. But the tone of it is familiar. It signifies the changing of the day, from morning to afternoon to the evening.

“We’re close to the bell tower!” I exclaim. The tower is located at the southwest corner of the palace, and its sound can be heard from any corner of Jia.

“We are right underneath it,” Kang explains, pulling an unlit torch from a stack in the corner. He uses the flames of the brazier to light it. “When the Ascended Emperor built the palace, he ordered these tunnels to be constructed, connecting the palace to various points in Jia as escape routes in case of attack. I spent a lot of my childhood memorizing these tunnels to hide from my tutors or my trainers.”