“I’m not afraid.”
“Then what is the reason for your ill humor?” His voice was as soft as the evening breeze.
“I know you admire Lady Anmei and that I’m not as beautiful or elegant as her. But . . . it was not pleasant to hear it said aloud.” Heat crept up my neck at the recollection.
“Admire her? If I was attentive to her it was only because it seemed to annoy you.” He grinned wryly, before turning serious once more. “Why would you want to look like her? Why would a falcon want to be a nightingale?”
My pulse quickened. I did not know why, except I was suddenly unsure of myself. Eager to leave and yet . . . wanting to stay. “Captain Wenzhi—”
“Just, Wenzhi.” His gaze held mine.
Somehow, I knew it was a moment of great import to him, a mark of trust that he did not easily relinquish.
My cowardly desire to leave vanished. I called Shuxiao by her name, but we were close friends. Peers. I had only ever addressed him as “Captain Wenzhi,” as he called me “Archer Xingyin”—any other form of address here would have been unthinkable. We had teased, needled, and even argued outright with each another, but this would be crossing into unfamiliar terrain, sweeping away yet another barrier between us. One, I found, I was glad to do without.
“Wenzhi,” I repeated slowly, unused to his name without his title.
A smile appeared on his lips, barely perceptible in the dark.
The last of my discomfort vanished, replaced by a warm flutter. I did not speak again and neither did he. Together, we lay on the rock in companionable silence, the waves rushing to shore the only sound in the night.
The moon rose higher. Its glow glinted on the water, the fragments of a thousand silver shards reflected on its surface. The breeze cooled my skin as the warmth in my chest spread to my veins, as though I was drunk on wine.
20
The next few days flew by, riddled with anxiety—and yet, they were happy ones, too. I taught Prince Yanming to hold a sword and let him trounce me each time we sparred. He showed me how to fold paper animals, and we sang silly songs that we made up together. When he discovered that I knew just one story of his beloved dragons—he gathered his books and together, we read of how the dragons saved the merfolk from sea monsters, how they purified the waters when a swarm of venomous jellyfish tainted the ocean. It was little wonder their absence had left such a void in the Eastern Sea. And when he flung his arms around my neck, squeezing me with his soft arms, a warmth bloomed inside me. He slipped through the wall around my heart, becoming the childhood companion I never had, the sibling I never knew I wished for.
All too soon, the day of our ruse arrived. I sat in a room with Wenzhi, as two palace attendants fussed over me, assisting with my transformation into Lady Anmei.
“Could you try to act demure and gentle?” Wenzhi suggested. “Take smaller steps when you walk. Your gaze should be softer. Lady Anmei is a delicate flower, so could you try not to be—”
“A thorn?” I bit out, my temper frayed thin. For the past hour, he had been lecturing me on the behavior I should emulate. I shot him a deceptively sweet smile. “Perhaps you should dress as Lady Anmei yourself, since you seem so well versed in her mannerisms.”
A choked sound erupted from one of the attendants, which she quickly gulped back.
Wenzhi’s eyes curved with humor, yet he continued as though I had not spoken. “Try to appear a little afraid or nervous. Not everyone can be as sure of themselves as you are.”
I swung around, dislodging an attendant’s attempt to fix a gold flower to my hair. “Since I met you, I’ve been afraid more times than in all my years before. Who wouldn’t be—getting speared by darts, scalded by fire, attacked by monsters?”
“If you were afraid, you kept your wits about you. Most of the time.” He sat down and unrolled a scroll crafted of bamboo strips, each crammed with tiny characters and bound with silk. Soon, he was engrossed in his reading like he had forgotten I was there.
His indifference bothered me, more than it should. I glanced into the mirror, a stranger gazing back at me. The attendants had drawn my brows into delicate arches, brushed my cheeks with rose powder, and colored my lips a light coral. My hair was pulled into smooth coils, adorned with jeweled flowers from which strands of turquoise beads cascaded. The lilac silk of my dress was embroidered with colorful shells and seagrass, a crimson sash tied around my waist. An open coat of azure satin flowed to my feet, encased in slippers of gold brocade.