When the princess said something, she most certainly meant it. In a heartfelt way, even.
Three had the… easiest task. Her job, as the princess had drilled into her head the night prior, was to make sure that the other didn’t go too far into the Winter Pavilion and ensured that they got out unseen. It was to be a show subtle enough to trick the prideful prince.
But before they could reach the Winter Pavilion’s gate, a loud rumble ripped through the air, smoke billowing up in explosive clouds. The ground tr
embled, pebbles dancing across the hard-packed earth.
She reached out to stop the princess from toppling; the other stared at her in silence, a twinned surprise on both their faces.
‘I want to know what happened.’ The other woman, still reeling from the trembles, staggered up again, clutching Three’s fingers. ‘That can’t have been the First Prince. He can’t have arrived now, there’s still a quarter of a shichen left —!’
The guard’s burning eyes locked onto her master’s. ‘Your Highness. We should leave.’ A sourness built up in her throat. ‘I know you want to check what happened, but it’s too dangerous. You might meet Four, or another’s shadow guard.’
‘But this could change my pns —’
‘You want to kill me, right?’ Three tore her hand away and pointed to the column of smoke hissing, ‘Fine. Be my guest. Go run, Your Highness, and I swear I’ll jump into the pace ke with your ashes.’
The princess gritted her teeth. The muscles in her face were pulled taught, but then each one slowly softened, the way a child would systematically pluck the petals off flowers. The control, Three saw, slowly settled over the woman, a whirring of scales and strings pushing this way and that in her mind.
The princess took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. ‘I lost myself. It’s indeed reckless. But… I do not know where to go.’
Of course.
Now that Four had blown up the pavilion prematurely, neither she nor the princess would know who was caught. Not knowing the victims; not knowing the reason; now with the First Prince safe and unharmed, would he catch onto the princess’s set up?
If they returned to the Pace of Gentle Snow, would they face One, Four, or someone else?
The pace wasn’t safe.
‘The why don’t I take you out of the Imperial City, Your Highness?’ Three looked up at the smoke in the sky — the bottom of it was tinged an orange-yellow with firelight. Then she turned to the other, a forbidden pity rising up her throat. ‘We can return in the morning, if you so wish.’
The princess stared down at her with a long silence. That shuddering look, a mix of anticipation and a dash of apprehension, a gentle glow of curiosity —
It let Three know.
Her master wasn’t much older than she was.
‘Alright then, Three,’ the princess said. A soft look settled over her face. ‘Take me out this rotten pce.’
*
Three loved the city street food.
‘You are certainly a pig,’ the princess said. ‘Where did that money come from?’
A passing merchant, of course.
‘Just guess, Master. I’m sure you’ve got a good head on that skinny neck of yours.’
Speaking of which, other than that oh-so-amazing brain, the princess seriously had nothing else. No sense of humour, no sense of taste, her personality as interesting as pin rice dumped on snow.
Three rolled her eyes and took a bite out of a sesame ball. Her arms were den with such delicious rewards: pork dumplings, grilled beef, and to her immense delight, spicy boneless chicken feet.
Her mouth was already watering at the thought of it. She pnned to save the best for st.
The crispy yellow ball vanished in two bites. She was inhaling the dumplings when the princess interrupted her with a plum skin-sour look on her lips. ‘Can you not eat any quieter? You’re incredibly obnoxious.’
‘I did offer you some, Master. You’re the one who refused.’ Three rolled her eyes so hard they might’ve rolled back into her head. ‘It’s not my fault you have a pate smaller than a teacup.’
‘Hardly.’ The woman added with a sneer, ‘I prefer to eat actual meals over snacks.’
She just rolled her eyes even harder.
The afternoon markets were awash with people from all stages, all csses of life. The liveliness of it, the hurry of it, brought out an immense soothing in Three; the fact she could blend away, unseen, at any time was something she treasured.
It would be amazing if she could just vanish, disappearing into the world of the mundane.
The orange light of the afternoon sun seared white dots into her eyes. The gentle heat of it burned into her neck and colrbones, filling the grooves of her scars with gold.
She finished off the dumplings and threw the wax paper into a nearby night-soil vat. It was half-full of rotting vegetables and discarded bones; a stray dog and a few rats searched through the mess for scraps.
The rats had better escape by tonight. Otherwise, when the farmers came to grind the contents for fertilizer, they’d be added in as well.
She finished off the skewers and lobbed the bamboo sticks in as well. Then she dug into her chicken feet.
The spicy crunch of it exploded into her mouth. It was a revelry of fvour — the crispiness, the cold, tangy burn, the chewy and oily skin. The savoury sweetness. Amazing. Perfection, even.
If she had any bread, she would’ve dipped it into the sauce to finish.
…I’m still hungry.
Her eyes floated around and nded on a man with a rge straw pilr on his back. On the pilr were yers and yers of red tanghulu sticks; the candied haws’ sugar shells glistened in the sunlight.
She ran over and bought a stick. She lifted it to her lips, about to bite down, but paused. She thought of the princess’s soft look and softer eyes.
She bought another, then jogged back to the scowling princess.
‘Hey, Master,’ she called out, a disgusted look on the other’s face, ‘do you want to eat one?’
‘I don’t eat sweet things.’ The woman’s scowl deepened. ‘I’m in mourning.’
‘It’s just sugar-coated hawthorns,’ she wheedled, ‘and besides, the fruit itself is sour. It’s not like you’re drinking wedding wine.’
The princess gred. But she still reached out a hand and took it.
Three grinned in victory.
