Kang stands at a round table, leaning on the surface with his arms outstretched, hair tied neatly, and collar smoothed. He is dressed in light blue befitting the younger members of the court, not the mourning white meant for the emperor’s family or the black of bereavement donned by the ministers. Lian would question whether the princess thought it an insult, a mark of his preferred distance from the royal family. But all I can think about is how the blue suits him.
“You can set the tray over by the door,” he says, not looking up from what he is studying intently.
“I…” I try to find my voice, my rehearsed speech. I want to hurl my verbal barbs at him. I want to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me, but I can’t seem to form the words.
He turns to look at me, and it takes a moment, but he straightens when he recognizes me. A stack of scrolls falls to the floor with a clatter, knocked over by the startled sweep of his arm.
“Ning,” he breathes, and my heart falls to my feet to join the scrolls.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
We kneel at the same time. I place my basket to the side in order to help him. He gathers the scrolls into his arms, while I pick up two that had rolled to my feet, all the while taking him in. Gone is the reckless son of a wealthy merchant, hair down to his shoulders, leading me through the streets of Jia. He looks like a scholar waiting for the exams instead, reputable. He sets the scrolls onto the table, while I place the ones I have on a shelf.
“I didn’t know it was you,” he starts hesitantly. “Or else I would have…”
I interrupt him by turning and fumbling for what I hid in the basket instead, thrusting the wooden box in his direction when I face him again. Trying to prevent my emotions from showing up on my face, trying to prevent him from saying something we will both regret. The Golden Key hums, recognizing him, trying to pull us closer.
Confusion spreads across his face as he slides the lid off. The beautiful dagger is there, cleaned of Ruyi’s blood. I liked the feel of it in my hands when my senses were heightened by magic, but I don’t want any memory of him to remain with me when I leave this place.
“It was a gift,” he says, not understanding.
I envision sealing myself in a fortress, surrounded by ferocious beasts, in order to say what I must. To sever the ties between us so irreparably that there is nothing left to mend. The truth is what I wield, as sharp as any dagger.
“I spoke with Zhen,” I say to him. “She told me your father was behind the poisoned tea bricks, that the main ingredient was yellow kūnbù, a seaweed grown only in the Emerald Isles.”
Surprise flickers across his face, then his mouth draws into a thin line. “If I swear to you right now, on the old gods, that I didn’t know about this, would you believe me?”
I remind myself that he is an adept performer, able to wear his expression as smoothly as any mask.
“Does it matter?” I ask, and he flinches like I’ve struck him. “From the first moment I met you, you have lied to me. Every time you’ve offered a glimpse of yourself, with the Golden Key, the Silver Needle, but still continue to twist the words so you can hide your true intentions.”
“And those are?” His words prickle, sharp as nettles.
“To get close to the princess,” I say to him. “To earn her trust, promise her no harm, draw on her sympathies using your friendship as children. Once you are safely established, then you will find a way to assist your father onto the throne.”
As I continue to speak, his outrage changes to sadness, then finally eases into resignation.
“Everyone knows about my father’s ambitions, his desire for vengeance, and they would not be wrong if they see him as a threat,” he says, voice flat.
“You’re going to tell me you are not like your father? Because you are his adopted son?” I retort. But when the words leave my mouth, they spin in the air like leaves in the wind, taking on new intentions. Mocking. Meant to hurt.
“There are many things I thought you could be,” he tells me, clenching his jaw. “But I didn’t think you would be so purposely cruel.” He turns away so I cannot see his face.
I realize then how much I hurt him with a single comment, knowing what I know about his past. About how he felt like an outsider twice over, first in the general’s household, then when they were banished to the Emerald Isles.
Even though I want desperately for him to look at me again like he used to, when he held me close, I need to make sure this knife goes in as deep as possible—to protect myself and everything I could lose if I fail.