His accusation stung. “How dare you speak to me of what’s ‘improper’ when it’s you who is betrothed yet baiting me this way. You have no right to ask such things of me. It’s no business of yours what I do and who I see. As for me, I couldn’t be more indifferent to you now.”
Such reckless words I spoke, uncaring of the storm which swept over his face. Yet I would not stay to be berated by him. I’d had enough of such entanglements and the way they twisted me into knots. Rising to my feet, I stalked away—but he caught my wrist in his grip.
“I do care,” he ground out. “Despite my sense, my judgment and honor—I cannot help but care.”
Light blazed from his eyes, as scorching as the sun. Pinned by his gaze, I could not move—only noticing, too late, when he drew me to him. I should have pushed him away yet there was no strength in my limbs. His confession roused something in me which I had thought long dead. I had never seen this side of him before, filled with passion and jealousy, and a reckless part of me reveled in it.
He bent his head—slowly at first—and when I did not flee, his hand loosened over my wrist, gliding up to encircle my waist. Something smoked in the depths of his eyes, a moment before his lips pressed against mine with a hunger as though he was starved, with an urgency that stirred my blood. There were no thoughts in my mind—no anger, no shame, no fear of what this meant. Nothing beyond this heady lightness, this glittering fire that coursed through my veins. My fingers were already winding around his neck to pull him closer as I tipped my head back, drowning in the sensation of his touch and warmth, even as his arms tightened around me, locking me into an embrace from which I no longer wanted to escape.
This courtyard . . . it had been my haven once. The soothing thrum of the waterfall, the fragrance of spring blossoms in the air, the joy I had known here. Yet while the aching familiarity of this place brought back such sweet memories, the one seared deepest in my mind was when I had sat frozen and alone the night of his betrothal.
With a wrench, I shoved him away—hard—as he staggered back, his arms falling away. I fought for breath, struggling to gather the shreds of my composure. “No, Liwei. It is over. We are over.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. “Let us not lie to each other, Xingyin. We’re not over. Your heart still beats to mine. You still feel something for me, just as I do for you.” He spoke quietly, with no trace of pride. Just a certainty which was a hundred times more galling.
“What do you want of me?” I cried out, furious both at him and myself. “You are promised to another, yet you seem intent on humbling me to admit my feelings. Does it give you satisfaction? Would it appease your royal pride to hear you were not so easily forgotten? Or do you intend to follow in your father’s steps, with a concubine in every corner of the palace?”
“Never, that.” He recoiled as though insulted.
I did not believe those harsh accusations myself, but a part of me—a bitter, vengeful part—wanted to strike out at him, to wound him as he had me. We glared at each other, neither of us speaking. My heart pounding so hard I prayed he could not hear it.
At last, he turned away, his hands clenched by his sides. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said in a low voice, akin to a reluctant confession. “My mind tells me to stop, to let you go—yet I can’t. I see you wherever I go, you’re with me in everything I do; at my table while I eat, in my room when I awaken. Your voice in the air, your smile in my eyes. I can’t forget you, no matter how I’ve tried.”
Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke. How weak I was, that I did not leave now, that his confession moved me so. I did not know how long we would have stood there, as still as the stone lions which guarded the entrance, if the doors to the courtyard had not been thrown open. I stepped away from Liwei, just in time, as a messenger ran toward him. His black hat had been knocked askew and his robe flapped in the wind.
He bowed, panting a little as he spoke to Liwei. “Your Highness, Their Celestial Majesties request your immediate presence in the Hall of Eastern Light. An urgent matter requires your attention.”
Liwei frowned. “I’ll go at once.” He glanced at me as though wanting to say more, but then he strode away.
I fled back to my room, trying to settle my churning emotions. Yet they were roused anew at the sight of Wenzhi, sitting by the table.
“Weren’t you with General Jianyun this morning?” I asked, taking the stool beside him.