A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1) (56)

“Really?” I’m grateful he’s sharing a part of himself, offering a distraction from my sadness. I imagine a proud woman, one who is able to bear arms to defend her homeland from invaders. Who willingly uprooted her life to marry a man she had never met, but who found another instead. “She dared to challenge the general to combat?”

Laughter makes his shoulders shake. “She challenged him to see who could stay underwater the longest. He lost.”

I laugh, too. “I think she would have gotten along with my mother.”

“I know she would have.” He waits a breath before saying, “If she was anything like you.”

“Kang…” I straighten again, sitting in front of him so I can see his face. “I need you to tell me the truth. You once mentioned that the princess had a stone that can heal all illnesses … is there really such a thing?”

When he doesn’t reply, I grab hold of his hands, so he can feel for himself, through the connection that quivers there between us. A pressure builds in my head, like water against a dam. All my hopes, balanced precariously on the answer.

“I have to know.”

He seems taken aback at the force exerted through my grip. “I’ve heard rumors,” he says. “But…” He slowly extracts his hands from mine and places them on my shoulders instead. “If such a stone exists, don’t you think the emperor would have used it to save his empress or the dowager empress? That my father would not have stolen it to save my mother’s life? That the princess would not have used it to save her father? Do you think all those people would have died, if such a thing exists?”

I hear his words, but also do not. I cannot acknowledge such a terrible truth, that the foolish hope that keeps me in the palace—even through the mockery, the threats, the embarrassments—is a lie. That even if I won each round and finally emerged victorious, Shu may still die in spite of it.

“Who is it?” He regards me with those eyes that continue to see too much. “Who do you want to save?”

“My sister,” I whisper. “My sister is dying.”

My life with her has always been so entwined, waking and sleeping in the same room. One of my earliest memories was holding her after she was born, and now she may die at my hands.

Like our mother before her.

The pressure is too much, and it breaks me, unleashing the tears in a torrent. I sob in his arms. A broken, pathetic thing, ruining everything I touch.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Kang says nothing as he gathers me into his arms, holding me tight. More tears than I imagined I could contain leave me, spilling through my fingers.

“If my sister dies, I’ll have nothing left,” I tell him through sputtering sobs. “My father is already half gone to his grief, and I don’t think I can save him if Shu dies, too.”

He uses his thumbs to carefully brush the tears off my cheeks, but I push him away. I don’t deserve to be comforted by him, and I don’t want his pity.

“How can it be your fault,” he asks, “if it was the tea that poisoned her? You didn’t know.”

“Because I was the one who poured the tea.” I drag my sleeve furiously across my eyes. “I should have known to look for the poison. I should have seen the signs.”

He scoffs at that, and I press my mouth into a thin, burning line.

“Ning…” He pulls me back, that earnest expression returning again. “Listen, how long does it take to become a shénnóng-shī? Ten years? How many years could you have been training? Two? Three?”

Not even. Here and there, when Mother forced me to sit down during our shared lessons. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“We trust the emperor to provide. We believe the Court of Officials will protect us.”

“What are you talking about?” I choke out.

“I’m saying it’s not your fault,” he says. “The emperor, the ruler of Dàxī, surrounded by all his guards, could not prevent his own death at the hands of someone who wished him ill. You could not have known about the poison. Even your mother, a trained shénnóng-shī, did not detect it before she drank it.”

“But…,” I say, uncertain. I should have read the signs …

“Someone is killing the people of Dàxī with the intent to spread unrest,” he continues insistently. “If you want to blame someone, then blame those who distributed the poison. Blame the officials, blame the ministries. But don’t blame yourself.”

I regard this boy, with his assurances, shattering my excuses with the confidence with which he uttered those words. Words that border on treason. And he also revealed something else: He knows the emperor died from something other than illness. But did the Banished Prince arrange for his death? Or is someone else responsible?

I know the princess wants me to ask the delicate questions, to coax the truth out of him. But I’ve never been that sort of person, able to hide behind smiles and flirtations.

“Are you here to put your father on the throne?” I ask him. Dangerous questions and dangerous games.

Kang blinks, surprised. “Not even my father’s loyal officials would dare to ask me that.”

“I don’t have any loyalties within the court.” I shrug, keeping my voice light, even though inside, my heart hammers, desperate for an answer to bring back to the princess, mindful of her threat against my family.