I read my father’s words again and again.
As I am here in the palace working toward an antidote, Shu has been doing the same even from her sickbed. Why would she do something so reckless? I want to return to Sù and demand an answer. But another part of me laughs, knowing only she would have the sheer stubbornness to come up with such a gamble. She has been risking her life to find a cure, even as she entrusted me to fight for her in the trials. And now, what do I have to show for my escape to the capital?
A meager clue from the chancellor. A kiss from a boy I shouldn’t have kissed on a beach beside a hidden lake.
I know I should keep my promise to myself, for him to remain a beautiful memory, a foolish tryst. But I am too far tangled with him. I have to pull that loose thread, even knowing everything will unravel.
Mingwen arrives at my residence to deliver the midday meal, disrupting me from my dark thoughts. Cold noodles, continuing the summer tradition, tossed with peanut oil and sesame sauce, releasing a mouthwatering scent. Other small dishes accompany the noodles: thin sliced stewed pig’s ear and shredded cucumber mixed with chunks of garlic. But when she sets the dishes on the table, her presence reminds me that servants can travel freely around the palace.
I will have my answer. It may be the only way I can find the cure before my time—Shu’s time—runs out.
I will rip it out of him if I have to.
I stand up and close the door, gesturing at Mingwen.
“I need to borrow your uniform for an hour,” I tell her as she is setting the utensils down on the table. She turns to me, a frown already forming, ready to deny my request. But then I’m clutching at her arm, begging her.
“Just an hour,” I plead, piecing together a plan with what little I have. “All you have to do is stay in my residence, tell them you are resting and require privacy for quiet reflection if they come to find you.”
Her frown deepens. “Where are you going? You will be disobeying a direct order from the chancellor. They will never allow you to continue if you are caught.”
I race to my bedroom and fumble among my belongings to find my mother’s hairpin.
“Please.” I hold it out to Mingwen, the jewels sparkling in the light. Many of the beautiful things my mother had had from the capital she sold for coin, but she had kept this one. Cherry blossoms dotted with pearls on gold branches, a reminder of her life in the palace. A representation of all the happy memories she fed me, and much more she never shared.
Mingwen takes the pin and examines it, appearing conflicted. “You are willing to part with this?” she asks.
“Lend me your clothes and keep my secret, and it is yours,” I tell her.
She looks down at the pin again, before closing her hand over it and nodding. “One hour.”
* * *
Adjusting the basket on my arm, I nod at the guards at the door. The hair Mingwen piled up on my head and secured with her own pin feels heavy, lopsided. I keep my breath held as I walk away from the residence, expecting one of them to call out my name, expose my ruse, but no one stops me.
I recognize the marquis’s residence, with its red pillars and brown walls, in the distance. Walking down the other path, I keep my gaze to my feet when passing the other servants, hoping to appear inconspicuous. I stop at the gate to the Residence of Winter’s Dreaming, which I confirmed with Mingwen is where the son of the Banished Prince resides. High white walls hold up a black roof, stone wolves guard the door. Is it an honor, or is it a prison?
The guards at the door let me pass, seeing me as a faceless kitchen servant. I note the red helmets and armor, indicating they’re members of the elite palace guard. Aware of Kang’s skills, they have assigned highly trained men to guard him.
This courtyard is small, much smaller than the other residences, but still elegantly maintained. White and black stones form curved patterns, encircling small bonsai trees on raised platforms. The door up ahead is open, revealing a small receiving room with a pair of carved wood chairs and a table between them. A scroll hangs on the back wall, a brush painting depicting the rooftops of a city.
Hesitant, I make my way up the steps and over the threshold. To my right and left there are arched doorways, marked by carved filigree. A wooden screen of birds hides the room to the right from view. The left doorway opens to a larger room, from which drifts the calming scent of benzoin.
Benzoin is meant to ease stress and soothe a restless mind. I wonder what thoughts Kang is trying to chase away.
I take another step closer. The room before me appears to be a study, but the shelves are mostly empty. There are only a few scrolls, some unrolled, and others haphazardly stacked on top of one another. A discarded robe hangs on the back of a vase.