Jade Fire Gold(45)

“I find that it helps if you drink,” he says, eyes round and earnest. “Time passes faster.”

I snort and immediately regret my crude reaction. But it amuses him, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he tries to hide his laugh.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Mother mentioned she had invited a special guest and she just told me it was you. I have to admit I was expecting someone else.”

I raise my brows.

His smile is enigmatic. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

Another gong thunders and the hall quiets. A line of servers appears from the side doors, holding large plates above their heads. They trickle in as the music gets livelier and place an assortment of dishes in front of us.

Double-boiled herbal chicken soup, fish steamed with ginger and soy, luscious-looking vegetables, abalone . . . My mouth waters as the attendant carves a suckling pig right in front of me. The skin is so crispy it crackles under his knife. More dishes come and go, many of which my peasant eyes don’t even recognize.

Conversation with Tai Shun is wonderfully easy. He’s clever but humble and isn’t interested in petty palace gossip like some other nobles I’ve encountered. Neither does he seem to care much about the power the throne holds. Instead, he tells me about music, about his love for the countryside and nature, about wanting to explore the world beyond the palace confines, and how he plans to travel across the Emerald Sea for leisure. His dream, he shares, is to study medicine and discover cures for illnesses that plague our people.

I assumed he’d be a spoiled royal who thought of no one else but himself. Now, it feels like the Empire might have a chance with him on the throne.

Shortly, some minister I don’t recognize ferries him away. I sit alone, stuffing my face with food nervously and avoiding all eye contact, smiling awkwardly whenever someone else nods at me. I spot my father making rounds among the nobles and foreign dignitaries. Sometimes frowning, sometimes laughing. His metallic half-mask reflects the lights, hiding his wartime injury like a shiny badge of honor.

Every time I see that silver, an ember of a memory long snuffed out keeps sparking at the back of my mind. But it fizzles and dies without catching flame.

There’s something about that mask—I want to tear it off.

I feel eyes on me. I look up to see a gentleman with brown skin and heavy cuffs and jewels around his wrist staring in my direction. He nods like he recognizes me, but I’ve never seen him before. I smile politely back, puzzled by his manner. He sips his wine and starts talking to someone else as if our odd exchange never happened.

“I see you’ve a healthy appetite,” says a voice beside me suddenly. Tai Shun is back. He grins at my empty plates. He left my side sober barely an hour ago, but now, his words are slurred.

“I see you didn’t need me to keep your cup full,” I say.

He manages to look contrite, plopping down heavily beside me. He pushes his cup toward me like a child asking for a treat. Sighing, I fill it with rice wine.

“I hate this,” he mutters in a voice low enough that only I can hear. “So very . . . very much.” He downs the wine and gestures for more. “Look at all these simpering sycophants. They’re only fawning because I am to be emperor soon. Nobody actually gives a damn about me.”

“If you can figure out who the sycophants are now, it would be helpful for when you are emperor, Your Highness,” I whisper, pouring more wine.

Tai Shun’s gaze sharpens through the haze of alcohol. “Call me Tai Shun. Please.” He rolls his wine cup with his fingers thoughtfully. “The premier’s daughter—are you aiming to be a politician, too? Do you have an interest in politicking?”

“No, I’m just a peasant girl who got lucky.” I pat my stomach. “And I’m only here for the food.”

He slaps his thigh, raucous laughter traveling across the hall, drawing attention to us. I see my father looking at us with a tight smile.

The man with the brass cuffs appears by our table. “Your Highness.”

Tai Shun stands, a little unsteady. I’m tempted to prop him up, but that would make his inebriated state even more obvious. “Ambassador Tian, good of you to come so far for the funeral.”

“My king wanted me to apologize in person for not being able to make the journey. He has state matters to take care of,” says Ambassador Tian. “I am sure you understand.” His underlying note of sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by me. “Who is this lovely young lady by your side tonight?”

I swallow my soup hastily, skin prickling under the ambassador’s scrutiny.

“This is Zhao Ahn, the premier’s daughter,” says Tai Shun.

Ambassador Tian strokes his wiry beard. “Interesting. I did not know Zhao Yang had a daughter.”

“We were separated by fate for many years.”

“Then it must be a fortuitous stroke of fortune that you have found each other. Pray tell, how did that happen?”

“Like you said, Ambassador, it was a fortuitous stroke of fortune,” I reply with a smile. Something about this man makes me want to hold my tongue.

“You Shi are always so coy with your words. The Nandah style is direct and honest. Conversations here have been”—he pauses briefly—“interesting.”

I shoot Tai Shun a desperate glare. His eyes focus, and he steers the conversation away from me. I mouth a thank-you when the ambassador isn’t looking.