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He gestured to the empty tables behind us. “The others are for my ancestors.”

I shifted in my seat, conscious of the Empress’s gaze on me. In Guangzhou, we set out plates for our ancestors during festivals, but certainly not every day. “Your ancestors must be pleased that you honor them so faithfully,” I said at last, because that felt like a safe observation.

The Empress laughed, the sound bright as lightning in the silence of the hall, echoing up to the blurred ceilings.“Honor,”she said. “You’re adorable, Scarlet. I like to remember those that came before me, that’s true. But we do not honor the weak in this palace.”

She took another long sip of tea, her red lips leaving a bloody smear across the gold rim of her cup. “The secret to eternal life was right in front of them,” the Empress said. “But they were too lazy, too stupid, too afraid to find it. Their failures remind me why I deserve this kingdom. So no, Scarlet, we do nothonorthe dead here. We laugh at them.”

The incense seemed even thicker than before, the scent of it coating my throat, creating a blurry haze around the Empress, only pierced by her golden eyes.

“Now,” the Empress said. “Let’s eat.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The doors creaked open and servants carrying golden trays streamed into the hall, cramming the tables full of lidded dishes.

“Eat quickly and then we can go,” the prince whispered, squeezing my hand.

“Hong, where did you say she was from?” the Empress said. It took me a moment to recognize the prince’s name.

“Guangzhou, mother,” he said.

“Ah.” The Empress nodded, taking another sip of tea. The pure gold rim sparkled against her red lips. “That explains the accent.”

I hid a frown against my teacup, drinking even though I felt that I could drain an entire lake and my mouth would still be bone dry. I hadn’t thought my accent was that noticeable. People in Chang’an understood me well enough.

“My guard said he heard you speaking Guangdong huà,” the Empress said, swirling her tea around. “I don’t know if anyone has informed you, but we only speak the language of scholars here.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” I said, worrying too late if my sour mood was leaking through to my words. I wondered if the Empress actually thought lesser of my dialect, or if she just didn’t want me keeping secrets. A small part of me prayed that the prince would protest, but he stayed still and silent.

The servants placed bowls of rice on the table, but the Empress and prince ignored them.

“My son tells me you’re ahùnxie,” the Empress said, tilting her head to the side.

I gripped the edges of my chair, not trusting myself to meet her eyes without saying something that would get me beheaded. Couldn’t we talk about how I was unschooled again? How I was a dirty southerner who had sold my body to her son?

“Yes, Your Highness,” I managed to say.

“Where are your parents from?”

I swallowed. “My mother was from Guangzhou, and my father was from Scotia.”

“What an intriguing mix,” the Empress said. “I’ve met somehùnxiewith Slavic fathers, but Scotia is very far away. I think that’s a better mix, personally. Scotians have such fair skin. Don’t you think so, Hong?”

“Yes, Zilan is very beautiful, mother,” he said evenly.

I blushed. I doubted that was what the Empress had been implying, but hopefully his comment would redirect her from talking about me like a recipe for soup.He doesn’t mean it, I reminded myself.He has to pretend because he chose you as a concubine.

“Hùnxiegirls usually are,” the Empress said. “Either they’re pretty or they look like warthogs. There’s no in between.”

I’m definitely the latter, I thought, staring down at the forbidden rice.

Warm fingers touched my face, and I nearly jumped out of my skin before I realized it was the prince, angling my face toward him and smiling. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so simple yet so delicate, like I was the kind of girl that needed to be gently cared for, not someone who shoved pearls down people’s throats. My face burned, and I hoped all the white powder was enough to hide it. The prince pulled back and promptly dumped the rice from his bowl into mine.

“I don’t need this,” he said, before I could protest.

I eyed the rice, remembering the prince talking about all the poison in his food. “Don’t you have taste testers?” I whispered.

“Yes, they sampled everything an hour ago,” the prince said, setting his hand on my leg. “They’re all alive and well, though the food is a bit colder than it would be otherwise.”