Home > Books > A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1)(113)

A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1)(113)

Author:Judy I. Lin

I bring the cups over to the table. With murmured thanks, they drink the tea, and I can feel the magic already sensing what they need most. Easing tension from their necks and shoulders, smoothing out the lines on their faces.

“Thank you.” The astronomer sets his cup down with a sigh. “For you, I would suggest the opposite.”

I stare at him, not understanding.

“You should stop running. Return to where it all began. You may find the answers you are looking for.”

Before I can ask for clarification, there is a knock on the door. Official Qiu steps through, worry lines etched on his brow. “Pardon my interruption, but there are soldiers gathering in the teahouse below. I do not believe they are aware of your presence, Highness, but it is best you leave before someone recognizes you.”

Zhen nods and stands to face Astronomer Wu, bowing deeply. “We are grateful for your guidance.” He stands as well, acknowledging her in turn.

When we return to the other room, we are given uniforms. Changing behind the screen, we shed the clothing of the palace servants and pull on the soldiers’ uniforms instead. I manage a sloppy imitation of a topknot.

“Your companion…” I overhear Official Qiu’s wife speaking to Zhen. “I had her rest on the bed while you spoke with the esteemed astronomer. Do you want us to take her in as well? We can dress her in our maidservant’s uniforms. She … does not seem well enough to travel.”

Zhen pulls her hair tight and tucks the helmet under her arm. “No,” she states brusquely. “She will be coming with us.”

“Are you certain, Princess?” Official Qiu says. “You must move swiftly to the docks. The ferry will not wait.”

Zhen turns on him, eyes flashing fire. “She is my family, and they tried to hurt me through her. I’ve tried to send her away for her own protection, and she crossed the entire empire to save me. I will never leave her again.”

* * *

It is difficult to maneuver a barely responsive body down the stairs, but Zhen and I somehow manage to balance Ruyi between us and get her back into the cart. I pull the blanket over her while Zhen sees to the donkey, readying it for travel.

“You there!” a gruff voice sounds behind us.

I start, turning around, hastily making sure all of Ruyi is covered. A man steps out from the lit interior of the teahouse. A soldier. “What are you doing with that cart?”

I blurt out the first thing I can think of: “Grabbing another jar of wine like I was asked.”

He frowns. “Wine?”

I pull one of the heavy jars from the back, taking the weight on my thighs. “Yes, we were sent on an errand to find more wine. Nothing but the best!”

I hope the jars from the palace are not marked in a unique manner or this entire ruse will collapse. He still regards me with suspicion, checking the label to be sure. My legs quiver as if they are made of water, ready to give out at any moment.

“Fine,” he finally growls. He gestures to Zhen, who ducks her head, hiding her face in the shadows. “You there, grab another jar. We’ll make sure our honored guest is served the best.”

“Who is coming?” I whisper to Zhen, who carries the other jar next to me as we ascend the back steps.

She shakes her head and stares ahead. “I don’t know. Let’s set these down somewhere and take our leave.”

We are led through the kitchens, where people run back and forth between towers of steaming baskets. A man wields two woks, tossing vegetables expertly over a roaring fire, while a boy squats beside him, feeding the flames.

We continue through to the dining area. There are dozens of bodies crowded into the main level of the teahouse, some in the black of the city guard, others in brown army uniforms.

“More wine!” the soldier who led us inside roars, throwing his arms around our shoulders.

The soldiers cheer. We are forced to take off our helmets so as not to appear inconspicuous. The possibility of us slipping away quietly lessens with each step. The heavy pots are taken from us, their seals broken swiftly. The wine is poured into round bowls, much of it spilling out the sides. Somewhere in the room, a group of men break into raucous song.

“There’s more where it came from!” The soldier releases us, laughing. He tips the bowl into his mouth, dribbling wine down his chin.

“Cheers!” They raise their bowls toward us, and before we can protest, we’re pulled to sit down on stools at a table. Zhen and I exchange uncomfortable looks but continue to play the part. The wine flows freely as the conversation grows louder and the jokes increasingly vulgar. One of the soldiers tells war stories to an attentive audience, while to our left, a drinking game involving rapid hand gestures and curses is in progress.