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‘You said they were expecting a princess. I’m no princess.’
‘Neither was my sister, Pearl.’
He slowed his stride to match hers and Yan Ling felt especially small, more from the authority in his bearing than from his actual size.
‘A past emperor gave one of his favourite daughters away in an alliance marriage to a barbarian chieftain,’ he explained. ‘The story has since become quite famous. Have you heard of it?’
He paused to look at her and again she shook her head. They didn’t speak of the comings and goings of the imperial family in their little teahouse.
‘The princess wept and begged for her father to reconsider, composing verses of poetry lamenting what she considered her exile from her beloved empire,’ he recounted. ‘But the Son of Heaven couldn’t rescind the agreement to his ally. When the princess left for foreign lands, the Emperor was heartbroken. When another neighbouring kingdom petitioned for a Tang princess, the Emperor chose one of his concubines and bestowed the title of princess upon her. The newly appointed princess went to fulfil the alliance rather than the Emperor’s true blood.’
‘So now our Emperor wants to send an imposter instead?’ she asked.
‘It’s not uncommon. The alliance brides may be nieces or distant members of the imperial family. Occasionally even daughters of high-ranking court officials might be chosen. It was a great honour to our family when my sister, Pearl, was elevated to the rank of princess.’
Yan Ling stared at him, trying to sort out the strangeness of such whimsical decrees. ‘Wouldn’t that make you a prince?’
‘Not quite—however, the decree does bestow imperial favour and duties upon our family.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘Duties that cannot be refused.’
She supposed the divine Emperor could do whatever he wished. ‘But what if the barbarians find out they don’t have a real princess?’
‘It doesn’t matter. The political arrangement itself is the important part. The marriage seals the agreement and the title is just a formality showing the Emperor’s commitment.’
She didn’t like the thought of being a peace offering, travelling to this faraway place along with bolts of silk and a fleet of horses. Hadn’t Fei Long practically looked her over as if she were a horse? Checking her teeth, checking her feet to see that they were small enough to belong to a high-born lady.
‘Tang princesses are highly valued in the barbarian lands,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll have every need taken care of.’
A ripple of pleasure ran through her, lazy and warm with promise. She would never need to worry about being cold or hungry again. Her back wouldn’t ache from serving customers from the first light of day to deep in the night.
‘I couldn’t even imagine this if it were a dream. You’re just telling stories,’ she accused.
‘It’s true.’
‘Then why did your precious sister run away? If I were Miss Pearl, I would never give up such an opportunity.’
He tensed. Only the twitch of a muscle along his jaw revealed any emotion. ‘She was young with … romantic notions. Not thinking of reason or duty.’ He met her eyes, his gaze scrutinising. ‘You seem much more practical.’
‘I am very practical,’ she agreed. The teahouse had always been about survival and keeping a roof over her head.
They stopped before the town’s civil office. Without a word, the nobleman handed her the reins and strode through the front gate, completely assured in her compliance. The horse paced a few restless steps while she clutched at the reins with a life-and-death grip.
‘Stop,’ she commanded in a fierce whisper. ‘Hear me? Stay still, you.’
She prayed the horse wouldn’t run off. If it decided to, she’d be dragged along with it. She didn’t know how to tame a horse. In truth, she didn’t know how to do much more than serve customers in a teahouse. So she stood with the reins wrapped twice around her hand and considered her situation.
To be a princess, even a false one, would be like being reborn into the next life. Perhaps the stars of her birth weren’t as dim as she’d always thought. She wanted very much to believe Fei Long, but there were plenty of stories about tricksters travelling the countryside, collecting young women in order to sell them off to brothels. Fei Long could very well be one of those scoundrels, though he struck her as honest. Maybe too much so. If anything, he seemed lost in this fancy scheme of his.
At times, he intimidated her with his proper manners and knowledge. At other times, she considered smacking him across that thick skull of his—which had been the start of all her troubles.
Fei Long emerged from the gates and came towards her, holding a pouch in his hand.
She gave up the reins with relief. ‘What is that?’
‘I have to settle with the teahouse. An honourable man repays all his debts.’
From the heft and size of the pouch, it must have held more coins than a month’s take at the teahouse. She chuckled.
‘What do you find so funny?’
‘They just gave that to you?’
‘Yes,’ Fei Long said, puzzled.
She laughed outright. She couldn’t help herself. For some reason, this was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. She recalled the jade seal that he had shown at the teahouse, which practically had her master kow-towing.
‘They just give you money …’ she caught her breath between gasps ‘… for nothing!’
She shook her head and grabbed at her sides. They ached from laughing so hard. When she looked up, Chang Fei Long was glaring at her.
‘Our family name is good as a guarantee of payment,’ he said stiffly.
She sucked in a breath and tried to compose herself. Of course it wasn’t funny to him that someone like her would never touch money of her own, no matter how hard she laboured. Lord Chang simply had to walk into a municipal office. Yet she was the beggar, he the nobleman.
Money from air. All things were possible—even a peasant posing as a princess in a foreign land.
‘Yes,’ she said, in a long-delayed answer to his proposal. ‘Yes, I’ll go with you, my lord.’
They headed back towards the teahouse then. Her former master would see that she was leaving town with the same gentleman they’d thrown her out over. The thought had her doubling over in laughter once more.
Chapter Two
The journey was a quiet one, with Yan Ling plodding onwards in her slippers while the nobleman rode alongside on his horse. She’d been full of questions at first. How far away was the imperial city and what was his home there like? Fei Long, or Lord Chang, as she was coming to think of him, had a tendency toward short answers. The silence and the ache in her feet slowly drained away her initial sense of adventure.
She stole glances at Chang Fei Long, trying to work out what sort of man she’d tied herself to. It was odd to have such a young master. He was confident in the saddle and the sword at his side seemed like a natural part of him. Everything about him spoke of nobility, from the upward tilt of his chin to the way his shoulders were always pulled back. She tried to imitate his stance when he wasn’t looking and her back grew stiff after a few minutes of it.
He must have been wealthy to live in the capital, though he travelled without any attendants. From what little she’d ascertained, he hadn’t carefully planned this trip to the provinces.
‘Are you tired?’ he asked when they stopped for a rest.
‘No, my lord.’
He’d taken care of watering and feeding the horse, while she stood watching and wondering what her new duties were. The thin slippers she wore were not fit for travel, but she didn’t dare complain even though her feet throbbed with a constant ache. Fei Long was frowning at her so she made sure to remain as quiet as possible.
‘We need to make better time,’ he grumbled.
Maybe she was wrong about him being young. He certainly had the temperament of a grumpy old man at times.
She bit into the steamed bun he’d bought from a street vendor that morning before they’d left town. The pork filling was cold, but she appreciated the savoury sweetness of it. The journey had left her drained. Keeping her mouth full also ensured she couldn’t misspeak. The nobleman might still decide he didn’t need the extra trouble of bringing her along. Surely there were more suitable young women in the imperial city. If he abandoned her out on the open road, she’d have nowhere to go.
A sense of helplessness hovered over her as she finished the meal. She didn’t know Chang Fei Long’s moods yet and it was her duty as a servant to learn those things. He said so little, unlike her former master and mistress who’d had no issues about complaining long and loud.
When he swung himself onto his horse without a word, Yan Ling was certain he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. She started preparing her plea, but instead he extended his hand.
‘Come,’ he said, when she didn’t move. ‘You barely weigh a tan. The horse can carry us both.’
His broad fingers engulfed her slender ones. He tightened his hold to tug her upwards as she braced her foot over his in the stirrup. It was miserable beyond description. She felt like a rag doll, hefted onto the back of the saddle. They were higher off the ground than she had anticipated and she wobbled, clutching on to Fei Long’s robe. Fortunately he held on to her and finally got her settled in behind him.
She was pressed against him, closer than she’d ever been to any man. The expanse of his back and shoulders stretched out before her and her first thought was—how was she supposed to hold on? The warmth of him lingered even after he let go.
Yan Ling had never clung to a man like this, the intimacy all the worse for being forced. She’d never ridden a horse before either and was certain she’d fall and break a bone. The horse gave a snort and shifted forwards. In a panic, she grabbed on to Fei Long’s waist, hugging him too tightly. He tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder and she loosened her grip. She shifted on the saddle, trying to find her balance. Eventually she settled on holding on to his shoulders.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her with his back to her like that. ‘Yes, my lord.’
He urged the horse forwards with a slight movement of his heels. Yan Ling tried her best not to touch him too much as she swayed upon the saddle.
The sky was beginning to darken when they reached a walled city. The guards stepped aside to let them pass and Fei Long quickly located an inn along the main avenue. They left the horse to an attendant and headed to a brightly lit restaurant. The double doors were thrown open in welcome. Kitchen smells of garlic and cooking fat wafted out into the streets.
Yan Ling fell into step behind Fei Long as he entered the dining area. The day before, he’d entered their little teahouse with the same assured grace. The host spotted them across the crowded dining room, or rather he noticed Fei Long in his fine robe, and hurried over to greet a valued patron. They were directed to a table at the back and she stood awkwardly while Fei Long seated himself and spoke to the host.
She took to looking about the room. The place was twice the size of their teahouse and nearly every table was full. Her fingers ached just looking at the number of bowls and plates out on the tables. It would take hours to wash all the dishes in a place like this.
A young attendant came by carrying tea. Yan Ling shot forwards to intercept him and there was a brief struggle as she gripped the edges of the lacquered tray.
‘Hand it over,’ she scolded, managing to take possession of the tea without spilling a drop. The boy gave her a confused look before wandering off.
She placed the tray onto the table and arranged the porcelain cup neatly in front of Fei Long. At least this was something she knew how to do. The nobleman watched her with that penetrating gaze of his as she poured. When the cup was full, she set the pot down and stepped back with immense relief. This was harder than she’d ever imagined and they were only one day into the trip. What would be expected of her once they reached the great city of Changan?
‘Yan Ling.’ Her name sounded strange coming from his lips. So proper and enunciated. It was almost too elegant to be hers. He gestured to the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down.’
She complied, folding her hands in her lap nervously as she waited. Steam rose from the pot beside her. Fei Long reached for the handle and poured her a cup. She took it from his hands obligingly, but refrained from drinking since he hadn’t yet touched his tea.
He watched her with eyes that were dark and thoughtful. ‘You’re not my servant.’
Tm … I’m not?’
He shook his head, looking a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself. ‘You’re not required to attend to me. You are here to learn and I am here to teach you.’
She nodded fervently, though she still didn’t understand. This situation was growing even worse. The uncertainty of it left her bewildered and anxious. In the teahouse she knew exactly what was supposed to be done from the moment she woke up.
‘What am I to learn?’ she asked.
‘Manners. Etiquette. How to write, how to speak. Everything that would be expected of a heqin bride.’
Everything? ‘When was your sister supposed to leave for Khitan?’
‘In three months.’
Her stomach sickened. Lord Chang didn’t look happy either. Or maybe he always frowned like that. She’d seen that look more on his face than any other. He lifted his cup and she mirrored his movement. The tea was a bit hot so she blew over it gently.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
She flinched at the reprimand. Hot liquid splashed over her fingers.
‘Wait for the tea to cool and sip slowly.’ He demonstrated while she stared at him incredulously. She did the same, not daring to do much more than touch her lips to the rim.
‘And when you took the cup from me, you did it with one hand.’
Had she?
‘Two hands,’ he went on. ‘With a slight bow of your head as you accept the cup.’
Heaven and earth, she didn’t even know how to drink tea properly! She, who had grown up in a teahouse. But she’d never had the opportunity to accept a cup of tea from anyone. She poured her own tea and drank it in the kitchen with the rest of the servants.
‘Two hands. Slight bow,’ she recited under her breath.
The next minutes were excruciating. They sat and sipped tea as if it was a sacred ritual, and apparently it was. Fei Long told her about entire classical texts written about tea. She glanced at him over the rim of her cup while she drank. With every moment, she waited for the next arrow to fly: sit straight, head up. No, head too high.
‘Are you a general in the imperial army?’ she blurted out.
‘No. Why?’
He did carry a sword and seemed to like giving commands. ‘I was just wondering,’ she said, glowering.
‘I serve as a squad captain in the north-western garrison,’ he answered stiffly. ‘But I had to leave to attend to my father’s affairs.’
She nodded. Her neck was tired from nodding. ‘That’s a very powerful position, then?’
He stared at her. She realised she was staring back and lowered her gaze.
‘No,’ he replied after a pause, regarding her intently, as if she’d said something highly improper, and took a methodical sip of tea. ‘It is a very worthy post.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. ‘I’m certain it must be.’
She didn’t know a thing about military rankings or the exalted history of tea. Every day would have to be like this if she was going to learn what she needed to know.
Yan Ling was exhausted by the time the food came, but she was grateful to have something besides the nobleman’s discerning stare to occupy herself. Her mouth watered at the dishes placed before her. The journey had worked up her appetite and she piled slices of pork along with sautéed bamboo shoots and greens onto her rice. The flavours were rich with a blend of garlic and chilli. Indeed, a meal for a princess.
Not two bites in, the arrows started again.
‘Slowly,’ he reprimanded in a low voice.
Weariness had beaten down her defences. She narrowed her eyes and shot him a poisoned look of her own. It missed the mark, though. Fei Long was looking downwards, concentrating on the motion of his balanced chopsticks as he ate with perfect moderation.
Fei Long had occasionally travelled with servants. They rarely needed instruction, always knew their place and moved about unnoticed and unseen. He didn’t know what to do with someone who was untrained and without a predetermined role and function. This became painfully obvious when he went to his room at the inn and found that Yan Ling had followed him dutifully into the chamber.
She blinked at him, awaiting some instruction undoubtedly. When none came, she turned and headed to the door. He let out a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. Yan Ling closed the door and once again faced him, hands folded. Waiting.
