Page 82 of The Cinders

Xian’s laughter joined his, though far more subdued.‘Master Song, quiet now, they will hear you in Beijing with that laugh.’

Lim stifled his amusement, which was almost as painful as letting it free, and wiped at his eyes.‘You are right.But you were a sight to behold.Thank you for understanding so quickly.I hope my idea didn’t upset you too much?’

‘You did not upset me, Master Song.’

‘Lim, please.’

‘Lim.I am so pleased to see you.’He lowered his eyes, a pinkness shading his cheekbones.‘But I don’t understand, how is this possible?Why are you here?’

Lim had tired of all the lies he’d told to bring himself here.And tired of pretending he’d done so for the slipper alone.

‘You, Xian.I am here because of you.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THERE WASsilence in the workshop, the outside world sounding distant, the murmur of a lively household barely noticed.

‘Your Highness—’

‘Song Lim—’

They spoke in perfect unison.Xian ducked his head.He stood in the doorway still, silhouetted by the daylight; a vision that Xian could happily have drunk in for an eternity.

Lim shook off his whimsy.‘Go on, your highness.I did not mean to speak over you.’

‘Let any discussions wait a moment, I cannot stand seeing you in those awful chains.I’m sorry I did not make Master Chen release you before he left.’

Xian gathered up the lengths of his Han blue skirts in one hand and picked up a wooden stool with the other.He moved back into the workshop, moving to the bench where he frowned down at the tools a moment before selecting a thin pick from amongst the scatter.Lim glanced towards the opposite end of the long workbench; where the slipper was concealed beneath the velvet.

‘Your highness, there is something I’d—’

‘Sit please.’Xian walked towards him, his veil hanging loose, the black fabric contrasting his milky white skin; brushing against the pink hues of his scars.

‘Sit?’

‘Yes.Please.’

He placed the stool in front of Lim, and the thirteenth son of the emperor went to his knees.

‘Gods, no.’Lim reached for the prince, horror making him insensible.His fingers brushed the silk of Xian’s gown before he remembered himself and withdrew.‘There is a chair over there.I cannot have this.’

‘And I cannot see you like this, Lim.Let me tend to these shackles.’Firm and unequivocal, holding Lim’s gaze with such wondrous strength that Lim’s belly clenched tight.

‘There is no key, your highness.’

‘Please call me Xian.And sit down.Both are commands, if that helps you at all.’

Lim hesitated, then relented with an unhappy grunt.‘I suppose I cannot defy those orders.’

‘You cannot.’The corners of Xian’s eyes wrinkled with a shy smile.He ducked his head to work at the lock.‘When I was young the Lady Tian liked us to playcrouching in the dark, and she’d always encourage me to hide in places that had locks or bolts—’

Lim growled.‘That woman is—’

‘The reason I took it upon myself to understand locks.’Xian looked up at him through dark lashes, and Lim’s heart forgot it should beat smoothly.‘There was asuojiang, a man much like you, who did not fear my reputation, and taught me his lock craft.I’ll not be kept in the dark again, not by a lock at least.’

‘I have no doubt.’Lim stared down at the prince, entranced.There was so much to learn about the man, and Lim was greedy for the knowledge.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Song Lim?’