Page 37 of Never Ever After

Attendants approach, laying down skewers of meat, plump scallops, roasted pigeon, flower-shaped cakes, more elaborate dishes than those set on the tables—yet my appetite is gone.

In the silence, Prince Zixin leans against his chair. “Why was Lord Chao’s advisor with you? Did you know him before?”

At once, I’m guarded. “I’ve only seen him briefly at the ball, when he spoke to Your Highness. He came up and introduced himself just now.”

“What did he want?” His eyes don’t leave my face, like he’s searching for something, whether a reason to trust me or to pick out the lies.

“Nothing in particular.” I tilt my head like I’m trying to remember, like it didn’t mean anything. “He asked where I was from, about my family. He told me he used to live on a farm in Thorn Valley, and we spoke at length about the crops we’d grown. He seems nice.” My face falls then. “I don’t know many people at court. Until today, I’ve kept to my rooms for my lessons and meals. The few I’ve encountered… are not always as gracious as Your Highness.”

“Who insulted you?” he asks in a wintry tone. “Tell me, and I will ensure they never dare do so again.”

A heady rush fills me—yet I hesitate, thinking of the ruthless way he treats those who cross him. “I can look after myself, Your Highness.”

The barest arch of his lips as his gaze slides to my dagger again. “I know you can. I like that you can look after me too.”

I smile, as he expects, yet it feels wooden and stiff.

“Be careful of those from Thorn Valley, especially that advisor,” the prince warns. “He’s devious; he might try flattery or bribes to trick you into doing something you shouldn’t.”

“You don’t trust them,” I say carefully. “Yet they are allies, your honored guests.”

“We need them. At least for now.”

The prince’s expression is grim, almost threatening. This alliance isn’t meant to last, a thin veil that will be ripped away during the first storm. Perhaps it was only stitched together from mutual need: the desire of Thorn Valley for the promised starfire in return for shielding us from Mist Island.

Yet another reason to be wary of accepting Jin’s offer, of siding with Thorn Valley. It’s not loyalty that binds me; I feel little of it to a kingdom I’ve spent most of my life fearing and resenting. But I won’t betray the Iron Mountains lightly; their blades are the sharpest in the realm. And if I ever do… I can’t get caught.

“Don’t speak to the Thorn Valley advisor again,” Prince Zixin tells me. “If you want companions, seek Madam Lau’s or the chief attendant’s guidance for who would be suitable.”

His tone is authoritative, almost patronizing, like I’m a child whose friends he’s selecting. The air seems to constrict around me as my body tenses. Words surge up that I force back down. While I say nothing, neither do I nod obediently—as he expects.

Prince Zixin’s eyebrows arch, maybe reading my expression. “I suggest this for your own good. You are new at court; you must guard your reputation here. It reflects on those around you, raising or lowering the prominence of those who serve you… and those whom you serve.”

A blunt reminder of our positions. I breathe deeply to stop from spiraling, as Prince Zixin stretches out his hand. “I grow weary of this conversation. Walk with me in the garden.” His smile softens the hard planes of his face, but their edges have been shown.

I gesture at my untouched food. “I don’t feel like walking, Your Highness. I haven’t eaten yet.” A small rebellion on my part, a release to the emotions simmering within.

“Why don’t you eat later?” he suggests.

“Your Highness has already told me whom I should speak to. Is Your Highness also telling me when I should eat?” I laugh like it’s a joke but stop when his smile vanishes. I bend my head, suddenly all too aware that he holds my life in his hands. “I will obey Your Highness’s wish.”

“I’m not asking you to obey,” he says tersely.

“Yet you’re commanding me.” I speak quietly, conscious of the stark silence in the hall. “How would Your Highness feel if our positions were reversed?”

“We are not the same—”

His voice cuts off but it’s too late, anger crowding me like smoke. We aren’t the same… but not the way he thinks.

A young serving girl hovers by the prince’s elbow, holding a teapot to refill his cup. Her presence breaks the tension, allowing me to gather myself before I say or do something that can’t be undone. As Prince Zixin shoves his chair back abruptly, he knocks into the girl. Her hand shakes, spilling tea over the prince’s arm, reddish-brown streaks seeping into his white sleeve. He hisses, his face twisting with discomfort.

“Fetch cold water and towels. His Highness is scalded!” the chief attendant barks, hurrying to Prince Zixin’s side. Attendants rush forward, one pressing a cold towel to his arm, another wiping down his robe. Some of the guests closer to the dais exchange startled glances and whispers. As soldiers grab the serving girl, the teapot falls from her hands to shatter on the ground, dark liquid pooling amid the fragments. Stumbling forward, she drops to her knees.

“Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness,” she stammers, barely able to form the words.

“The punishment for injuring His Highness is twenty lashes of the whip,” Chief Attendant Mai declares.

The color leeches from the girl’s face. A memory flashes of how Mistress Henglan used to strike me, the cane splitting my skin. Such pain, though I’d learned to choke back my screams. But what lingers beyond the marks is the indignity that doesn’t fade.