Page 69 of For Ever More

“Exactly how I like it,” he drawls. “Sweetness can be dull. I prefer a taste of something that bites.”

My jaws clench. “Take care it doesn’t kill you.”

The attendant glances at us, puzzled at the seeming animosity—despite us saying nothing of apparent note. “Miss Yining, do you require anything for your injury?”

A frown creases the prince’s brow. “Are you hurt?”

Without waiting for an answer, he bends as though to carry me—but I scramble to my feet effortlessly. Scowling now, the prince stalks into his room, leaving me to follow. As he shuts the doors after us, my body stiffens at being alone with him. Yet the firefly tucked in my sleeve offers a flicker of assurance.

The prince’s room is far larger than mine, divided by wooden screens. A round table and chairs lie before us, the shelves filled with priceless objects: animals carved of precious stone, delicate porcelain, ornaments of gold and silver. Farther in is a bed with flowing drapes. Mother-of-pearl is inlaid in the polished wooden furniture, brocade curtains looped with silver cord. A flight of stairs by the corner leads to the floor above.

“Does Lady Shufang know I’m here?” I ask directly.

The prince shrugs. “I did not tell her. Regardless, her jealousy is a tool I can wield to extract more favorable terms.”

“What terms are you discussing with Her Ladyship?” I’m drawing out the conversation to pass the time quicker. After obtaining what I sought, I just want to fulfill my obligation unscathed. “Would you mind if she seeks company elsewhere, like you?”

A brief pause. “Lady Shufang can do as she pleases.”

“Where is she tonight?” I keep her presence in the room with us, to remind the prince of all at stake. He might not like admitting it, but he needs the Lady of the Pearl Ocean on his side.

“Hosting a farewell dinner for Chief Advisor Mai,” he replies, suppressed anger in his tone. “An intimate affair. She seeks to ease the tension with the Iron Mountains, for now. I was not invited; she knows it would sicken me to attend a meal in honor of that despicable traitor.” His black eyes slide to me. “I have my own plans tonight.”

In the silence, I search for a safer topic. “What is up the stairs?”

He crooks his finger. “Come with me.”

I follow him to a large rooftop, enclosed with small trees and plants that conceal us from prying eyes. The stone table is already set with food and drink. Just a single lamp hangs from a stand—the stars above aglitter like jewels. The night here comes alive with the rush of waves, the quiver of wind threading my hair, the wind chimes strung on the trees tinkling in a ceaseless melody.

“I asked for the wind chimes; they mask conversation. In the quiet, even whispers are loud.” He tilts his head to the skies. “When I return to the Iron Mountains, I want to build a place like this in the Palace of Nine Hills—high above, where I can watch the world without walls.”

“It wouldn’t feel the same,” I say without thinking. “Your mountains are majestic, yet they felt like a cage.”

He sighs. “Allow me these dreams a little longer before you shatter them.”

I don’t reply, sensing he’s no longer talking about the rooftop. As I sit by the table, he gestures to the food: fish steamed with ginger, sliced beef, fried prawn rolls, braised noodles with scallops, osmanthus cakes. “I remember you have a good appetite.”

He places some food on my plate—odd, watching him serve me, unlike how it feels when Jin does it. I wait until he eats, a mocking slant to his mouth like he senses my suspicion. Only after he swallows do I taste the food.

“I’ve developed a liking for the coconut water here.” He takes a drink of the opaque liquid in his cup before pushing the other at me. “Do you think it’s poisoned too?”

A memory surfaces: the cup with berries that the chief attendant used to give the prince, its contents bonding him with the dragon, turning him into his sister’s pawn. “Your Highness should have learned caution by now.”

“I’ve learned a lot of things,” he says grimly. “The most important is discerning my friends from enemies.”

“Which are you?” When he stares at me uncomprehendingly, I add, “Your Highness typically thinks of people in terms of their use to you. What about your purpose? Are you our friend or enemy? It’s not just what we offer you, but what you offer others too.”

He pauses, as though just considering this. Despite his natural gifts, this is why people turn from him. “Even the most dedicated servant would tire of only giving,” I tell him. “True loyalty isn’t commanded, but cultivated.”

“Chunlei knew this.” His voice is guttural like this stings. “She was always speaking to the courtiers and attendants, learning their preferences and wants. In my arrogance, I pitied her for needing to nurture favor this way, secure in my belief the throne was already mine. I was the fool, only concerned for myself. My sister was gaining power her own way, and I gave it to her without even knowing.”

“Once you thought of others,” I find myself saying, struck by his reflection. “Once you helped another without gain.” I pull out my handkerchief embroidered with a tiger, the silk stained. Even after knowing it was his, I still carry it—a force of habit, like a charm. But now, I offer it to him. “I return this to Your Highness, a reminder of who you used to be: the boy from long ago, who helped a young girl escape the prison of your palace.”

When he doesn’t take the handkerchief, I place it on the table. He searches my face. “Why do you refuse to dispense with the formalities with me? Why am I still ‘Your Highness’ after all we’ve been through?”

It would be simpler to lie, but he’s revealing a part of himself kept hidden before, almost vulnerable. “To me, you were always the ‘Prince of the Iron Mountains.’ Everything you offered—it was what you chose to bestow, rather than what I wished. Your title is a reminder of all the unforgivable things you’ve done, that I can’t let myself forget.”

“Is that all I am to you? Yet you helped me escape.”