As she floated there, she found herself remembering the sight of Tsu Ma in the water, his chest bared, his hair slicked back, the presence of his boots planted so solidly on the earth beneath the table, the deep, warm vibration of his voice.
Tsu Ma . . .
She opened her eyes again. The boy was still sleeping. Her husband, the boy.
She shivered, then stirred herself in the water. It was time she dressed and saw to his meal.
when he WOKE it was to find her sitting beside him on the bed, watching him. He turned his head, glancing at his timer, then yawned. He had slept more than two hours.
He sat up, breathing in deeply. "What's that? It smells delicious."
She smiled and turned away, returning moments later with a bowl and chopsticks. He took it from her, sniffed at it, then began eating, holding the bowl close to his mouth, smacking his lips in appreciation.
"This is excellent. What is it?"
She was kneeling by the bed, watching him. "It's a recipe of my grandmother's. Wolfberry stewed with beef. A tonic for yang energy . . ." She laughed at his frown. "An aphrodisiac, my husband. It enhances strength and endurance."
He nodded enthusiastically. "It's good. Your grandmother was a clever woman, and you, my love, are an excellent cook."
She looked down, smiling. "My husband is too kind."
He was still a moment, watching her, astonished for the hundredth time by the fragile beauty of her; then he began to eat again, realizing with a laugh just how hungry he had been.
"Is there anything else, husband? Anything I could get for you?"
He lowered the bowl, smiling at her. "No. But that reminds me. There is something I must do. One small thing, then the rest of the day is free. We could go riding if you like."
She looked back at him, her eyes bright. "I'd like that." "Good. Then I'll call Nan Ho—"
Uncharacteristically, she interrupted him. "Forgive me husband, but that is not possible."
"Not possible?" Li Yuan frowned, then gave a short laugh. "I don't understand you."
She lowered her head, making herself small, submissive. "I am afraid I had to dismiss Master Nan. He—"
"Dismiss him?" Li Yuan put the bowl aside and stood, looking down at her. "Do I hear you rightly, Fei Yen? You have dismissed my Master of the Inner Chamber?"
"I had to, my Lord."
He shook his head, then looked away, past her. "Tell me. Why did you dismiss him? What did he do?"
She glanced up at him, then bowed her head again. "My Lord will be angry with me."
He looked back at her. "Have I reason, then, to be angry with you?"
She looked up, meeting his eyes, her own dewed with tears. He hardened himself against the sight of her; even so, he felt himself moved. He had never seen her as beautiful as at that moment.
"I am your wife, my Prince. Did I not have good reason to be angry with the man?"
He laughed, utterly confused now. "Fei Yen . . . talk sense. I don't follow what you're saying."
She looked down, swallowing, a sudden bleakness in her face that tore at his heart. "The girls. . . Nan Ho had brought girls..." A shudder passed through her. "Girls for your bed . . ."
He took a long breath. So—she had misunderstood him. "Forgive me, my love, but you have no reason to be angry with Nan Ho. It was not his doing. I asked him to bring those girls here. That was the thing I had to do."
"And that makes it better?" Her voice was broken, anguished. "How could you, Yuan? Am I not a good wife to you? Do I deny you anything?" She looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes almost too much for him. When she spoke again, her voice was a mere whisper. "Or have you tired of me already?"
He was shaking his head. "No . . . never. But you mistake me—"
"Mistake you?" Sudden anger flared in her eyes. "You bring those girls here— girls who have shared your bed—and say I have mistaken you."
"Fei Yen—"
"Then deny it! Look me in the eyes, husband, and deny that you haven't had them?"
He shivered. "It wasn't like that. I ..."
But his hesitation was enough for her. She tucked her head down bitterly, her hands pulling anxiously at the lap of her dress, then stood angrily.
"Fei Yen! You must believe me . . ."
She glared at him. "Believe you?"
He bristled, suddenly angered that she could think this of him, after all he had done to purify himself for her. Hadn't he cast the maids off? Hadn't he denied himself the pleasures of their company this last year? He shuddered. "You had no business dismissing Master Nan! Who comes or goes in these rooms is my business, not yours!"
She turned away, suddenly very still. Her voice changed; became smaller and yet harder than before. "Then let a thousand singsong girls come. Let them be wives to you. But not Fei Yen . . ."
He went to her, taking her shoulders gently, wanting, despite his anger, to make things right between them; but she shrugged him off, turning violently to confront him, the fury in her eyes making him take a step back from her.
"What kind of a woman do you think I am, Li Yuan? Do you think me like them? Do you think I have no pride?" She drew herself up straighter. "Am I not the wife of a great Prince?"
"You know what you are, Fei Yen!"
"No. I only know what you would have me be."
He began to answer her, but she shook her head dismissively, her eyes boring into him. "I tried hard, Li Yuan. Tried to dispel my doubts and tell myself it was Nan Ho. I tried to be loving to you. To be a good wife in every way. And how did you repay me? By cheating on me. By bringing in those whores behind my back."
He felt something snap in him. This was too much. To call his girls whores. Even so, he answered her quietly.
"Be careful what you say, Fei Yen. Those girls were my maids. They took good care of me in my childhood. I have a great affection for them."
She laughed scornfully. "Whores—"
His bark of anger made her jump. "Hold your tongue, woman!"
He stood there commandingly, suddenly very different: all childishness, all concession gone from him. He was shouting now. "It is not your place to criticize me. I have done nothing wrong. Understand me? Nothing! But you . . ." He shivered with indignation. "To have the audacity to dismiss Master Nan . . . Who in hell's name do you think you are?"
She did not answer. But her eyes glared back at him, their look wild and dangerous.
"Nan Ho stays, understand me? And I shall see the girls, as that's my wish."
He saw a shudder of pure rage ripple through her and felt himself go cold inside. Her face seemed suddenly quite ugly—her lips too thin, her nose too brittle, her perfect brow furrowed with lines of anger. It was as if she were suddenly bewitched, her words spitting back at him through a mask of hatred.
"If that's your wish, so be it. But do not expect me in your bed, Prince Yuan. Not tonight. Nor any other night."
His laughter was harsh; a bitter, broken sound; the antithesis of laughter.
"So be it."
He turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him as he went, his departing footsteps echoing, unrelenting, on the marble tiles.
DEVORE WAS PRESSED up against the wall, Gesell's knife at his throat. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."
DeVore stared back at Gesell, a vague, almost lazy sense of distaste in his eyes.
"Because I don't know what you're talking about."
"You lying bastard. You killed those two men. You must have. You were the only one outside the Central Committee who knew what they were doing. Only you knew how crucial they were to our plans."
There was a movement behind Gesell.
"Not the only one ..."
Gesell turned. Mach had come in silently. He stood there, watching them. Ascher crossed the room, confronting him, her anger, if anything, more pronounced than Gesell's.