Page 75 of Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

The tea came, brought in by a plain, snub-nosed maidservant. She stumbled in, seeming thrilled and terrified to be in the presence of the Emperor. She kept glancing at him, her face alight with worship and excitement, but he had eyes only for Xifeng.

When the maid left, he moved to the chair beside hers and insisted on pouring her tea. He handed her the delicate porcelain cup, his fingers brushing hers.

“Now, shall I tell you what I surmise about you?” He studied her the way she had him. His liquid eyes seemed to leave a trail of warm ink on every inch of skin they touched, but she managed to keep her composure.

“Your Majesty must do whatever pleases you.”

“I see a proud woman, self-aware and unafraid. A little reserved, perhaps. They tell me you came from poverty, but you speak to me like an equal.”

Xifeng caught the familiar scent of fir and sandalwood when he leaned forward, as though she sat within reach of a forest and not a man.

“You were meant for greater things and you know it. You understand, as I do, that wealth and family mean nothing if a person is not willing to prove his full worth.” Emperor Jun set down his untouched cup, still watching her. “I’m an observant man, Xifeng. People assume that because I’m young and sit on a throne, I don’t see the little things. The way a scholar looks at me and wonders whether I know or care that his family is one meal away from starvation. Or the way my ministers whisper behind my back when they think my orders are too harsh. But the hard decisions make us great. They make us who we are.”

He was close enough to touch, to run his fingers along the tenderskin of her arm. His shrewd eyes scanned her face, steel hidden behind velvet darkness, but he did not flinch from what he saw there.

And then his eyes crinkled at the corners, and she saw again the handsome man with the spark of humor she’d met over a map. “I have humble origins, too. I was a mere nobleman from the Sacred Grasslands, possessing only a drop or two of the royal blood that runs pure through my wife’s veins,” he said. “My father sent me to court to find a career as a minister, but I had my sights set higher than that. I exceeded his expectations, wouldn’t you say?”

Xifeng couldn’t help returning his smile. They were as alike as two pieces cut from the same cloth—cotton aspiring to be silk. “You won the old Emperor’s affections.”

“Enough to be named successor by him before his death, in title and in marriage to his wife. But I wouldn’t have reached so high if I hadn’t believed in myself. I knew I was worthy, despite my lower blood.” He looked intently at her. “I felt in my bones that I was destined to rule this kingdom. I was destined to have three stepsons, none of whom want the crown, not even the heir. Do you believe in destiny?”

“It rules my life,” she said truthfully. “I believe our lives have already been decided, and it is our purpose to make the choices that lead us to that fate.”

He was sober now, gazing at her. She felt an urge to run her fingers along his cheekbone. She had never been with anyone but Wei, nor had she wanted any other. But she could easily imagine the taste of this man’s mouth and the power and possessiveness with which he might kiss her. She wondered if he was thinking about how she would taste, too, as he dragged his gaze from her lips back to her eyes.

“Do you want to know the truth?” he murmured. “I don’t feel like I belong, even after all these years. My blood has been tainted with thatof lesser men. I’m not a pure descendant of the Dragon King or a faithful worshipper of the gods.”

Xifeng lowered her eyes, searching for the right response as though it might turn up in some dusty corner of her heart. But it didn’t come to her. It had died that night in the hot springs, when she had given herself to the darkness, and only emptiness lay in its place now.

“My family has never been devout,” she said. “My aunt... mymotheronly ever prayed when she wanted something. And I never felt like the Dragon Lords could hear me, however hard I tried to find my better self through prayer.”

“I, too, am trying to walk that path as we speak. I’m sending an envoy to the mountains in a month, but I still don’t know what I’m asking for. Peace and plenty? The means to make the people believe I am as pious as my wife?”

“I know what Her Majesty would ask for,” Xifeng said softly.

“And in doing so, she would forget to ask for her own health. This mania for a girl child has ruled her since the early days of our marriage. But I too prayed for a princess, for her sake.”

“As is your role as a lover and a husband.”

The Emperor turned his beautiful eyes to his tea. “A husband, yes, but a lover no more. There was never any... fire between us, like the kind you read about in the old poems.”

Xifeng recognized her own yearning in his gaze. Their hands were a mere breath apart, and she could feel the heat, the vitality of his skin.

But a gong sounded in the corridor, and the Emperor stirred. “I’m afraid I must let you go. Thank you for your company, Xifeng. I’ve greatly enjoyed our conversation.” Slowly, his hand lifted and touched the gold-and-ivory pin in her hair. The pin moved against her scalp,sending electrifying tingles down her neck as though she had felt his skin on hers instead.

She found, to her surprise, that she had to bite down her disappointment as she rose. It felt strange to be leaving his side. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It has been an honor.”

When she passed through the heavy curtains, the heat of his eyes still branding her skin, she felt like she had left a piece of her own soul behind.

But one day soon, she would return to retrieve it.

Over the next few weeks, the Emperor summoned Xifeng to his side almost every day. Wei had tried to hide her and keep her to himself, but Jun took every opportunity to showcase her to others. Seeing her interest in foreign policy, he began bringing her with him to various meetings and councils, which she enjoyed as much as he’d expected.

On one occasion, she listened—with barely contained amusement—as a pack of pompous dignitaries bickered about whether they ought to lower taxes on silks exported overseas.

“These are cheap silks to make. The silkworms are fed a poisonous plant that forces them to produce more. It’s cruel, but economical,” one minister said. “We ought to keep the taxes high and take advantage of the profit.”

“But lowering taxes will increase demand overseas,” another councilor argued. “It’s only a ruse, of course, so we may increase the price of the silks themselves...”

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