It is near the women’s quarters where we see movement up ahead, and Steward Yang pushes me in another direction, down a side corridor, but other footsteps rush in behind us. There are shouts in the distance, then a line of armored bodies and spears cuts off the end of the corridor, trapping us in.
“What is the meaning of this?” Steward Yang still maintains her composure, but the guards remain silent. “I demand to speak to Captain Liang!”
They ignore us but refuse to part when we approach, keeping us back. We do not have to wait long before a few of them part at the entrance to the courtyard, letting a man through. The familiar figure stops before me, greeting me with a brilliant smile.
“Hello, Ning,” he says, in his rich, deep voice.
It’s a voice I dread, one that reminds me of being ten years old, cowering and afraid.
Wang Li, the governor of Sù.
He’s broad-shouldered with a slim waist, hair in a tight topknot, his uniform tailored to emphasize his height. He wears a black cloak lined with green, a jade pendant swinging from the hem. My aunt always called his imposing figure handsome and striking, but I think those who hold that opinion are fools. They do not see the way he savors the fear of his victims when he is on the hunt.
Now, I recognize I am his prey.
“This is a governor of Dàxī!” one of the soldiers at his side barks. “Do you not know your place?”
Steward Yang’s hand still grips my arm, and I can feel her shaking next to me. Slowly, she kneels before the governor, and I follow. My mind spins, my two lives colliding at this very moment.
I know what it means when the governor dons the colors of the ministry, when he brings his pack of dogs to accompany him. When he strokes the hilt of his sword like he is begging for a reason to draw it.
Governor Wang speaks, voice carrying over the heads of all the guards, for everyone to hear and bear witness. “Zhang Ning of Sù, you are in suspicion of conspiring with rebels who are enemies of the empire, the murder of the princess’s personal handmaiden, involvement in the plot to poison the court officials at the banquet tonight, and fleeing the scene of the celebratory banquet. You will be taken by the Ministry of Justice for questioning, as you have been deemed a danger to the public.”
Ruyi … Ruyi is dead?
The last time Zhen spoke of her, she spoke of Ruyi’s recovery. But she has not been seen at any of the subsequent rounds, even though she is usually at the side of the princess. My heart burns at the thought of the loss of so many lives, one of them my own patient who I believed I had saved.
All their eyes are upon me, and I can only force out a few words in a whisper: “That’s not true.”
“No matter.” Governor Wang drinks in my suffering with obvious delight and gestures for the guards behind him to approach. “Make sure to gather the rest of the rats from the kitchens.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
My arms are wrenched behind me and tied with rope, then I’m yanked to my feet by one of the armored men. The governor’s personal guard are few, clad in similar cloaks, the same jade pendant swinging from their sword hilts. They flank him as he strides ahead of us, leading our procession. The others who carry out his orders are dressed in the black of the city guard, different from the striking red armor of the palace guards I have grown accustomed to.
We march back through the kitchens, joined by other soldiers who have caught more kitchen staff, who struggle in their grasp. I am forced to walk quickly to keep up, and it isn’t long after we leave the servants’ wing when I am separated from the others, pushed to follow behind the governor while the others are led elsewhere.
“Where are you taking her?” I hear Small Wu’s and Steward Yang’s voices calling out in protest. My throat tightens at the thought: They cared about me, even at the risk of endangering themselves. I can spare only a quick glance at the commotion behind me, three men struggling to pull Small Wu back, before I’m shoved forward. We move west toward the center of the palace.
Hot tears threaten to spill over, but I blink them away and swallow them down. Mingwen may have given me up, but even in my bitterness I cannot fault her. Knowing she has small children, knowing what I know now about all of them. They’re all people with families, in and out of the palace—now implicated in this wicked scheme that I’m not sure I can possibly dig myself out of.
Think, Ning! I tell myself, drawing on the lessons of both my mother and father. One who taught me to clear my head and use my mind, the other who showed me how to observe and remember.