I wrestle down a scowl. If only you were one.
“And do you know,” he goes on, “when sons of the King are born they’re known only by the sequence in which they were birthed? Before I took over my father’s reign, I was Third Son. Third Son!” Again, he slaps his hand down, making me flinch. The sound rings through the room like a thunderclap. “As if anything about me is third-best!” But a muscle twitches in his temple, and there’s a broken edge to his voice. Behind the anger is something more. Regret? Fear?
“What happened to your older brothers?” I ask tentatively.
The King licks his lips. “I killed them so I could take the throne.” His words chill the air, power emanating from him like heat-shimmer. Then, abruptly, his face switches back to its wide, tooth-filled smile. “How about we start? You must be hungry, and I wouldn’t want the food to go cold.”
As we were taught, I reach for the vial of sake to pour it for him. But he waves my hand away.
“You’re my guest, Lei-zhi. Let me take care of you.”
He pours two big helpings. Handing a bowl to me, his furred fingers brush mine for a brief moment, sending a wave of goose bumps across my arms. We hold them up, bowing our foreheads to the rim of the bowls, before bringing them to our lips. The King drains his drink in one. I try to match him; we’ve been taught it’s the polite thing to do. But I get only halfway through before my throat burns and I set my bowl down, eyes watering.
“You don’t drink?” he asks.
“Only on certain occasions.” My voice is still hoarse from the alcohol. I cough to clear it. “Otherwise we’re not allowed.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary to break the rules,” the King replies. The corner of his mouth tugs up into a feral smile. “They tell me I’m not allowed to leave the Inner Courts without my guards. But I have my ways.”
It sounds like a threat. Suddenly I’m all too aware of my skin, of how much is on show through my shirt. I start to pull my hair forward over my collarbones, but the King’s voice rings out.
“Stop.”
I freeze at the command.
“You look better with your hair back. It shows off your beauty. Your eyes.”
My pulse skitters as I drop my arms to let him look at me. The closeness of the room and the nearness of the King clamps tight, the air as heavy and unnourishing as concrete. My lashes are low, but I still feel the roam of his leer grazing my skin, like the projection of his touch, and I fixate on a spot on my skirt, trying to steady my breaths.
“Let us eat,” he says eventually.
For the next half an hour I force down helpings of dish after dish. The King talks the whole time. Like the food, I don’t register most of it. I’m so busy trying not to think of what’ll happen after dinner that it’s become the only thing I can think of. But at the mention of General Yu’s name, my ears prick up.
“… his gift. I have to say, I was surprised. I didn’t expect much of him, especially after his abysmal performance in Jana.”
I swallow the piece of salted fish I’ve been chewing on. “Heavenly Master,” I start, but at the look he cuts me, I amend quickly, “I mean, my King…”
It seems to be the right thing to say. He leans in a little, something satisfied uncoiling in his expression. “Yes?”
“About General Yu. If you don’t mind me asking, on the journey here he mentioned something about a… a raid. On my village, seven years ago. I was wondering if you—”
In an instant, the King’s face hardens. “Why would you want to know about that?” he growls before I can finish.
“Oh. I was… I was just hoping—”
“Order has to be maintained. Are you suggesting I allow everyone in the kingdom to do exactly as they please?”
“No, of course not—”
“Or that I will tell you anything, just because we are to share a bed?”
I flush. “No. I just meant—”
The King edges forward in his throne, the muscles on his neck taut. “Do not underestimate me, Lei-zhi. I may be young, but I know how to be a King. I was born one. I don’t need a Paper Girl asking stupid questions about something she knows nothing about.”
Under the fear, a spark of anger bursts to life. Something I know nothing about?
I push out a long exhale. Then, as carefully as possible, I go on, “I’m sorry, my King. But my mother was taken during that raid.”
There’s a pocket of silence. “That is a shame,” he replies stiffly.
“Do you know what might have happened to her?” I clasp my hands in my lap and force the most deferential look I can muster across my face. “I’d like to know. For my own peace of mind.”
He watches me in silence a few seconds more. Then he gives a small tilt of his head, scarlet light catching on the curve of his gilded horns. “Check the Night Houses’ list of courtesans.” He reaches with his chopsticks for a slice of barbecued pork belly and pops it into his mouth, the sauce glossy on his dark, bowed lips. “If she was brought back to the palace,” he mutters between chews, “that’s where she’d be.”
I drop into a bow, half to hide the sudden rush of hope that’s spiraling through me, and stammer a thank-you to the floor.
“See?” the King says, silky. There’s the rustle of clothes as he gets to his feet, the thud of hooves as he steps around the table. “I’m good to my Paper Girls, if they are good to me. Now, Lei-zhi. To bed.”
The words crawl along my skin. He offers a hand, and there’s nothing I can do but take it. As his fingers close around mine—my palm tiny in his—the ground seems to shift under me, throwing everything off-balance, and even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I let him lift me to my feet.
The King’s bedroom is another deep chamber. An immense bed dominates the room, the posts at each corner strung with charms and copper bells that I can guess at the purpose of. Then I realize that the room isn’t actually so large—it’s a trick of the mirrors, which cover the walls and ceiling. There are broken mirrors, speckled and old, with deep, jagged cracks, and ones as polished as the surface of a lake. They refract and reflect everything in a dizzying kaleidoscope of images: the flicker of candles, the sliding muscles of the King’s bare chest as he comes closer, the tensed line of my jaw as I turn away.
“Look at me,” he growls.
I do as he says, heart wild.
Calloused fingers caress my cheek. “I’ve bedded so many women during my reign,” he muses, one hand trailing down my neck to the front of my shirt, where my skirt is tied. “And yet there is always something new to discover in each one. I’ve come to learn that beauty isn’t exhaustive. Desire cannot be tamed.”
You’re right. I want to shove him away, scream at him, Tame this! But fear grips me in place.
Then his fingers find the bow fastening my skirt.
“Please,” I breathe. “Don’t—”
He roars. “You do not command the King!”
With a sudden movement, he rips the bow away. My skirt falls open. A half sob, half growl escapes me. I grab his hands, trying to peel them off me, but he bats me aside, hooks a finger on the front of my blouse, and tears it straight down the middle.