Page 83 of The Cinders

‘Lim,’ he said gruffly.‘If we are to be so informal, do not leave me feeling out of place.’

‘Very well, what on earth are you doing here, Lim?’He fussed at the metal encircling Lim’s ankle.‘Before you answer, I must ask.If you lift your feet will it cause you any discomfort?’

‘No,’ Lim said, puzzled.‘But lift them to where?’

Xian patted his lap.‘Here, it will make it easier for me, the lock is at the back of your ankle.’

‘I am not putting my dirty shoes in your lap, Prince…Xian.’Lim shook his head firmly.

Xian moved deftly, cupping Lim’s heels and pulling his shoes from his feet in one movement; setting aside the travel-worn straw sandals neatly at his side.

‘Xian!This is too much.’

But he was not yet done.Using the shackles as a handle of sorts, he lifted Lim’s wriggling feet, and set them down against his skirt with a firm hand.

‘Oh gods,’ Lim groaned, covering his face.‘My feet stink, don’t they.I saw you wince.This is a terrible idea, your highness.’

‘Xian.’

‘Names hardly matter, whoever I speak to I shall say the same thing.If it weren’t bad enough for you to find me looking like I’d been in a street brawl, now you regard me as a stinking pig.’

A giggle, soft and sublime, came from the prince as he bent over Lim’s feet, working the pick at the lock.

‘You are no pig, Master…Lim.And I’m sorry for flinching.Every scent and every sound is so much stronger now since I…’ He went still.‘I mean to say, I’m not offended.Don’t worry yourself.’

Lim frowned, thinking back on Xian’s insistence about the noodles being cooked nearby.He worried on the tincture; his certainty that Xian was too clear-headed to be afflicted was now in doubt.

‘Are you unwell, Xian?’

‘No,’ Xian replied softly.‘Not exactly…please, Lim.Let us not speak of such things right now.I’d rather speak of you.If you are here for me, then why would you not give my name when you arrived, and avoid this appalling treatment.’

Lim licked his lip, glancing up at the bench where the slipper rested beneath the velvet.

A shackle gave way with a wondrous click, hitting the hemp mat with a dull thump.Lim heaved a sigh.

‘You are a wonder, Xian.’He reached down to rub at his ankle, but found the prince’s hand instead; the brush of skin was warm and all too brief.

Xian pulled away, setting his sights on the second shackle.The pick shook as he worked it into the lock.‘The journey from Kunming is long, Lim.Arduous…and dangerous…’

‘Not so dangerous as your journey must have been.’

The barest pause before the tinkle of metal against metal continued.‘I was treated well enough.’

A strand of his black hair freed itself and fell across his cheek.Lim couldn’t help himself.He reached to affix it but paused, giving Xian a chance to protest or move away.Lim’s pulse felt as though it stopped dead when Xian tilted his head towards Lim’s waiting fingers.

He was certain neither of them breathed as he coaxed the strand over the curve of Xian’s ear.Lim sat back, exhaling, as Xian cleared his throat and went back to work on the shackle.

‘You should be treated more than just well, Xian.’

‘You are very kind to me, Lim.’

I want to be more than that.I want to protect you from the world, and wake every morning to find you with me.

With a despondent groan, Lim slipped his foot from Xian’s lap, intending to demand the prince get back on his feet.The intimacy, the nearness of him, was rending Lim apart.

At the same moment, Xian released the second shackle.There was a tangle of chains and feet and material with Lim’s sudden movement.His foot caught at the long drape of Xian’s sleeve.The prince let out a short gasp, reaching to grab at the fabric, but Lim had already felt what he sought to hide.

‘What do you carry there?’He knew.He’d spent too many years in his trade to miss it.