Page 71 of The Cinders
He dug his fingernails into his palms.
Master Chen drew nearer, still cradling the slipper.Yuze handed him the key to the shackles.‘Thank you.Now, no need for you to remain, gentleman.We have an understanding, Master…I don’t know your name, shoemaker.’
Lim’s eyes did not leave the departing Captain’s back.‘Song Lim.I am Song Lim.’
He was so close to Xian, yet felt further away than when he’d set out from Kunming chasing after him.
How often had the captain tormented Xian on that long journey?Lim’s stomach flipped unkindly, and desperation weighed on him like an unwanted cloak.His only consolation was truly horrid; if Xian were the mandarin’s prize, it would keep him safe from the lechery of men like the captain, for now.
Midnight.The time felt like an anchor; something to cling to in this madness.A point to shape plans against.
Plans that escaped him for now.
‘And pray tell me, Master Song Lim, where is the other shoe?’
It was not the question he’d expected, and Lim’s answer took a heartbeat to arrive.‘I don’t have it.’
‘Where is it?’
He hesitated, realising he didn’t know the truth.Lim had been so driven to get to Manhao, to find Xian, he’d not stopped to wonder if the prince held the other slipper.‘I don’t know.’
The truth; a bitter herb to swallow.
‘I find that hard to believe.’Impatience stamped its mark on Master Chen’s tone.‘It won’t serve you to lie to me, I’m afraid.And it is rude, considering I likely just saved your life.’
Lim kept his eyes on the captain, who moved with the guards in his shadow, hurrying to keep up with their superior, whose long strides ate up the path.
‘I’m not lying.I found only one slipper, after his highness was taken from the Governor’s manor, and I’ve not seen the other since it was in my possession in Kunming.’Half a lie; he’d seen it on Xian’s feet after he’d given him the pair, seen the sheer joy it had brought him.
‘He brought few possessions with him,’ Chen mused.‘And no one has spoken of shoes such as these.I’d have heard of it by now if they had.’
Lim lit up with a brilliant notion.‘Could we not arrange an audience with his highness to find out?’
Chen huffed a laugh.‘Not tonight, certainly.Come into my workshop now.I wish you to tell me where you sourced that fabric, and how you worked it into such elegant design.’
Lim barely heard him.He had to find Xian tonight.His certainty sat like indigestion; a pain at his chest that would not ease until the prince was with him.What plan he had for after that, Lim’s mind was worryingly blank.But he’d gotten this far with all limbs intact; a bruise or two perhaps.
And the slipper was still within his reach; whether it was enchanted or a talisman of good luck, the shoe had served him well so far.
‘Master Lim I asked you to follow me.’Master Chen stood at the open doorway, beneath several menshen nailed to the frame above; apparently Chen needed not just one door god to guard his precious shoes, but an entire family.‘You will not give me trouble so soon, surely?’
Lim drew in a breath, gathering himself.‘No, Master Chen.I am grateful to you for intervening.I don’t intend to give you any trouble.’
Another couple of lies to add to his growing tally.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
XIAN HURRIEDalong the corridor, his head bowed, the hem of his veil touching low on his chest.He’d thought to soothe himself on New Year’s Eve — whilst he was still allowed private time — with some time spent dancing, but after an hour he could bear it no longer.
‘Your highness.’An attendant stepped from a room, carrying a tray stacked with empty bowls, and chopsticks that rolled as she leaned into a bow.
Xian pressed a hand to his ear with a grimace and wrinkled his nose against the strong waft of pork that came from the remnants in the bowls.He bobbed his head, moving on quickly, eager to get to his rooms; praying he could escape the onslaught against his senses there.
Something was terribly wrong with him.Aside from those things most obvious.
Xian moved on his tip-toes up the stairs, seeking to keep his footfalls light, lest the thump of his feet echo so loudly in his head, he feared his mind would bruise.
The strangeness had begun when he’d been at dance.He had gathered no musicians, preferring solitude; the meticulous and calming sweep of his limbs timed to a music that existed only in his head.A kindly attendant, a middle-aged woman with heavy brows and a gentle countenance, had shown him to the small room next to the Spirit Hall, and promised he’d be undisturbed.