Page 100 of Never Ever After

I suppress the urge to shove him away. He thinks victory is his, that he can break me through force if not through bribes. He’s wrong.

But as the soldiers drag us away, my chest squeezed with terror, Ruilin’s weeping ringing in my ears as the blood trails from Dian’s hand… I’m no longer so sure.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

T he iron grate of my cell clangs shut, a soldier fastening a chain around the bars. Stone walls surround me, a thin sheet flung over a scattering of matted straw, the stench turning my stomach. Where are my sister and Ruilin?

When the soldiers leave, closing the wooden door after them, I suppress the urge to call them back, hating being alone in this pit. I grab the bars and shake them, but they are sturdy and thick. As I sink onto the floor, a sticky dampness seeps through my skirt. Is it blood? I don’t dare look. I’m cold, sick with misery and terror, the pain in my head relentless. My mind spirals, imagining the worst as I fight to not give up… even though I can’t find a way out.

Hours pass, or maybe it just feels that way. I no longer smell the foulness, perhaps because it’s claimed me too. My stomach hollows with hunger, but I have no appetite. Buried beneath the earth, there is not a single opening to the sky to offer even a sliver of assurance, a reminder that life exists beyond these gray walls that stink of fear and suffering. The silence weighs on me until I begin clearing my throat, making small sounds to remind myself I’m still here, that I haven’t lost my mind.

The door swings open. An old woman hobbles in, her back hunched, a film of white veiling her pouched eyes. Wordlessly, she sets a tray of food on the floor outside my cell: a bowl of rice, a roasted chicken leg, and steamed winter melon. At least they don’t intend to starve me. As she fumbles at the lock on the grate to open it, I brace to shove her aside, to flee—but guards crowd the entrance beyond, quelling all hope of escape.

“Auntie, do you know Princess Chunlei?” I ask in a low voice, as she carries in the tray of food. The princess was friendly with Ruilin, she is kind. I don’t know if she can help, but I must try—there’s no one else. I pull out a jade bangle taken from my room, holding it out to her. “If you can get a message to her, I’ll reward you well.”

When she ignores me, I add a gold necklace to the bangle, careful to keep them out of the soldiers’ sight. “Take these as a token, there’s more—”

“She can’t hear you; she can’t see. Even if she could, she’s wise enough not to take a bribe with jewels stolen from me.”

Prince Zixin’s voice rings out as he strides into the room. Though he’s my enemy, though he imprisoned me here, a sick, pathetic kind of relief flares at the sight of him. He has changed into another of his white robes, one without bloodstains, and from the dampness of his hair, he’s taken a bath.

“Weren’t they a gift? They were in my room.” I sound steadier than I feel. “Or is Your Highness in the habit of taking back the things he’s given?”

His jaw tenses. I shouldn’t antagonize him further, but the mask is off—he knows I’ve lied, that I tried to escape. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.

“You’re a fool to think my sister would ever take your side against mine,” he tells me. “But that’s not the stupidest thing you’ve done tonight.”

As the caretaker hobbles away, Prince Zixin steps inside the cell. The small space seems to contract; everything feels smaller. As the dark liquid seeps into the hem of his pristine robe, a petty satisfaction rushes through me.

I straighten, hating how I must tilt my head to look up at him. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

“Give me your ring.”

Before I can reply, Prince Zixin seizes the iron chain around my neck. With a sharp tug, the clasp gives way. Fear beats in my chest that he’s taking my ring away again. But he dangles it before me, his face as unyielding as stone.

“Wear it.”

“No.” I step back.

“Why don’t you want to wear your ring, Yining?” he taunts in silken tones. “Didn’t you plead for its return? Didn’t you promise yourself to me just to get it back? You lied so eloquently before. Why are you quiet now?”

My throat constricts; words won’t form. I’m grasping at straws.

“Wear the ring, Yining.” There is violence in his calm. “You have nowhere left to run to, no more lies to tell.”

He seizes my hand, plucking away the amethyst band and tossing it aside. Then he pushes my ring over my finger, sliding down effortlessly—a perfect fit. It pulses against my skin, a fiery rush sweeping through my veins. Silence falls, his eyes fixed on my ring. The petals on the flower thicken, their edges fluttering like they are caught in the wind. Light spreads along the band, almost luminous, the once shriveled root gleaming like jade. It is beautiful. Perfect.

And it could be the end of us all.

I turn my hand over, the marks already fading from my palm, along with the discomfort. The pain in my head vanishes—the dizziness and aches that Dian’s medicine couldn’t wholly suppress. Relief surges through me, a glow of rightness, of wholeness… I could weep with it. Yet dread and terror fill me too, swelling with each passing moment.

Prince Zixin draws a long breath. “You are one of them.”

“Let me go,” I ask, holding his gaze, trying to reach a part of him I’m not sure exists.

He studies me through hooded eyes. “I let you go once, I’ll never do it again. I hold on to the things that matter.” Prince Zixin pulls something out from the folds of his robe: a handkerchief of white silk, embroidered with a tiger in gold and black.

My insides cave like I’ve been punched. This can’t be mine, already yellowed with age. Reaching into my sash, my fingers close around my own handkerchief, the one I’ve always had… the twin to the one the prince holds.