Page 117 of The Cinders

‘That would be wise, yes.’Lim coughed the huskiness from his voice.‘I’ll be only a quarter of the hour, if I think it will take longer I’ll come back then to tell you so.’

‘Very good.’Xian found great interest in the rope that secured his dubious robe.‘Thank you.’

‘Good.Yes.You’re welcome.No problem at all.Right.I’ll be off.’He winced, praying Xian would turn away; that might stop the torrent of needless words rushing from Lim’s mouth.

He wasn’t sure he’d beenthisawkward at his very first kiss.Xian’s taste on his lips was scrambling his mind.

Xian turned and moved at a jog towards the dwelling; a place so far removed from a palace of any kind Lim couldn’t bear it.

‘He’s a prince you fool,’ he muttered.‘Putting him in with spiderwebs.Stupid egg.’He opened his mouth to call Xian back.

‘Go on.I promise I’ll be fine here,’ Xian said.‘I’m not worried about spiderwebs, but I will be happier when you have returned.’

‘You heard me?’

Xian looked over his shoulder, and though he could not see the prince’s smile, Lim knew it was there.‘An unnaturalness that is mine now.But at least I know I shall always hear you if you need me.’

Lim shook his head, unable to believe himself lucky enough to know such an astonishing man.‘I cannot imagine a life where I do not need you, Xian.’

A soft exhale came from the prince.He paused in the doorway.‘Do you need a man who blunders his way through something so simple as a kiss?Or who fears he may never desire to offer you more?Nothing of me is as it should be, Song Lim.Are you sure of this?’

‘I thought a fox an intelligent creature.’Lim turned away, his eyes burning; tears brought forth by Xian’s earnest fears.‘Seems this one is quite blind to what is plain.I wish to be yours, and you mine.How that bond exists between us, need not shape itself to anyone’s rules but ours.’He glanced back, wishing to settle one last matter.‘And that was no blundered kiss, Xian.It was a gift, an honour.But if you do not wish there to be another, then I shall live happily, ever after, with the memory of this day.’

He hurried away before he declared anything more foolish and frightened a wary fox off for good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THE WAITstretched out far longer than Xian preferred.Which left him too much time to think on how bold he’d been with Song Lim.

Seeing the shoemaker standing there, dirty and haggard but soalive,had brought on a profound desire in Xian.A compulsion so rare for him, he feared it only existed in an occasional, fleeting dream.

He sat on the single unbroken stool he’d found in the room, placing himself in the darkest corner, and running his finger over his lips more times than he could count.Reliving that kiss.

He’d been awful.He should have done more, but the intricacies eluded him.What did one do with their tongue in such circumstances?There had been the kiss with Sir William, but that hardly counted.The only other for comparison was ten years in the past.When Xian, too young and naïve to understand what was asked of him, had caught the eye of a kitchen hand; a boy of his own age, but with the skill of one far older.He’d cornered Xian after they’d shared a plate of honeyed figs stolen from the kitchen.But as sweet as his lips had been, and as curious as Xian was about the bodily affairs that absorbed everyone around him, it had been unbearable; the damp and searching mouth, the wandering hands between his legs, and the weight of a stranger pinning him against the wall.Xian had untangled himself and fled.

‘Argh, stupid egg.’He thumped his head against the wall, remonstrating with himself for how much noise it created in the quiet.‘There are more important things than kisses to consider.’Not half an hour ago he’d been another creature entirely…and not an hour before that he’d stood over a dead man.Mandarin Feng’s entire palace was burning to the ground, and it was because of Xian’s wish.

Yet here he was, nibbling his nails because he feared he wasn’t brave enough to tell Lim that he did not want that to be the last kiss they shared.That he’d not run from what Lim wished to teach him; because he’d found a desire to learn…for the first time in his life.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.And waited.Listening out for Lim’s return, but hearing instead the distant shouts and cries and tumult of the burning palace; guilt-ridden for knowing his only concern had been for Song Lim.

Neither lies nor violence nor abuse had brought on Xian’s transformation.It was fear of losing Song Lim that had done that.

Xian stared into the grey-shaded world around him; the details pristine with the enhanced vision of a nocturnal creature.He’d taken Lim away from the palace but had not travelled as far as he’d have liked; the shoemaker had been struck unconscious by falling debris and became an unreliable passenger.Xian had followed his nose towards the river until Lim had started with a painful coughing fit that sounded as though he’d break his ribs.Xian had abandoned his race here in this ramshackle but abandoned area of the Manhao outskirts.

Lim was long in returning.What if this area were not so abandoned as Xian thought?

Unease was creeping in when at last the sound of rushed footsteps had him jumping to his feet.He bit back the urge to call Song Lim’s name.

What if the shoemaker had been intercepted, and these were guards that came for Xian?Hunting for a murderer.

He winced, recalling Captain Duan’s dead-eyed stare, the stench of blood as it ran from him.

A far more pleasing scent caressed his nostrils; leather and musk and aloeswood, mingling with soot and smoke.And horseflesh.

He released the breath he’d held.Song Lim had returned.

‘Xian…Xian…where are you?’