“The next round will commence in three days’ time, at the start of summer. We welcome the longer days, a time for everything to begin anew. You will be given further instructions tomorrow morning in preparation. After that, you can take a much-deserved rest. Congratulations.”
Even though his words are celebratory, something about them makes my blood run cold. We leave the Month of Lengthening, when daylight begins to stretch later into the evening. We approach the start of summer, but where the season is supposed to promise warmth and growth, it seems to have brought forth continued unrest.
The questions uttered by the princess in her own garden echo in my mind as we leave the Hall of Eternal Light: Whose life? Whose death?
Only time will tell.
* * *
I’m determined to find the steward this afternoon. It’s possible she was the one who was tasked by the marquis to change out my tea leaves. Perhaps her clue was also a warning. She said she was the one who sourced the tea for the competition, so she is the most likely person to give me the answer I’m looking for.
Lian and I promised we would not return to the kitchens again, but I set forth with only one purpose. I will not involve anyone else in my plans. I want to find Qing’er but encounter Small Wu instead. He’s busy twisting and pulling more dough, sweat dripping off his forehead at the strenuous work.
“Do you know where I can find Steward Yang?” I ask.
He stops and wipes his face with a cloth before answering. “At this time, she is usually reviewing the kitchen accounts in her room. Go past the Fish Department and through the far gate to the women’s quarters. Give them my name or find A’bing if you run into any trouble.”
I duck my head in thanks and hurry through the twisting corridors past the kitchens, keeping to myself. No one stops me, everyone busy attending to their own tasks.
Steward Yang is my only connection here to my mother, my hope of finding out more about her past. I don’t want her to be the one who betrayed me, but I know her loyalty is to her immediate family first and then to her staff in the kitchens. I’m only a disruption to her, a potential threat.
I enter the women’s quarters and walk down the open-air hallway, checking each door. The ranks of those who reside within are hung on plaques beside each doorway, but no names are recorded. Her room is near the end of the quarters, only one plaque beside the doorway—with her position as supervisor of the kitchens, she is afforded her own private room. The door is open, and through it, I see her sitting at a table, brush in hand.
I raise my fist and rap on the door twice.
She starts, turning her head to look at me. Then she frowns. “I thought I told you not to come to the kitchens again.”
A part of me shrivels, wanting to apologize. But another part of me is ready for answers, and ready to tear things apart to find them.
I cross her threshold without invitation and stand in front of her with my arms crossed. She tosses her brush to the table, prepared to throw me out for intruding in her space.
“Did you switch out the Silver Needle on my tray?” I ask her, imagining my words like fists, striking the first blow. “Was that why you warned me, because you had already been tasked by the Marquis of ānhé to sabotage me?”
Her expression changes from anger to confusion. “The marquis? Why would I help him?” She curls her lip, then, as she ponders this, the reason I am standing there seems to dawn on her. “Close the door. We can’t be seen together by the others.”
Even though I bristle at her forceful tone, I still obey.
“Now, sit down.” She points at the bamboo chair across from her when I return. “Tell me everything.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I tell her what happened during the second round of the competition—the rules, what we were tasked to do, and my discovery that it was the wrong tea in my cup. Her face grows pale as I recount the events, her finger tapping a frantic beat on the table.
“You are certain it was not Silver Needle?” she asks.
I nod.
“But how?” she ponders, deep lines forming on her brow. “One of the royal physicians handed me the tea leaves, and I prepared all the trays … It must have been one of the servants.” She looks perturbed at this realization.
“It seems like the stars have different plans for you. Your mother fled this place and told me she would never return. Now you are here in her stead.” She shakes her head. “Ah, Yiting … how could fate have been so cruel to you?”
It seems like she genuinely cared for my mother. I think they must have been friends.