"For that alone, I would do as you ask, but what of the man? I have never heard of him before your letters about him, and you speak of nothing else but this man. You sound like a man in love."
Yi liked men? Was that why he hadn't yet married? Mai's eyes widened. Yet she'd shared a tent with him every night, spent so much time with him, and not once had she seen so much as a spark of lust in his eyes. Of course, there was that one night after the skirmish in one of the blockade camps, when the camp followers had tried to tempt them both into a tryst. Lust had certainly burned in Yi's eyes then, but not when he looked at her. No, his eyes had been on the woman, riding her soldier lover hard into their battle for shared pleasure. Or so it had seemed at the time.
"A superior sparring partner is easier to find than a willing bride, Father. I wager you have a hundred willing women lined up for me when I am well, but I have searched all my adult life for a man who could cross swords with me and win. I am no longer the Prince of Swords, for Mao conquers me every time we step onto the training ground." Yi laughed. "I protected your poets, giving them guard duty where they would be far from harm. All I ask in return is that you honour one man. A man who deserves your attention because of his deeds, not because of the words he might one day write."
"When you are fully healed, you may introduce him to me. See that you obey the healers and stay abed until then, boy, for I need you well. Well enough to attend the ball, choose a bride, and beget sons with her!"
"Yes, Father." Yi sounded unusually meek.
A man in purple robes swept out of the apartment, not sparing a glance for where Mai crouched behind a stone statue, for which she was grateful.
Heng, carrying the breakfast tray, was more observant. "I have the lychees you like, Mao, and peaches for the prince. The cook tells me there will be apricots tomorrow, if you wish."
Mai longed for apricots, picked fresh from her father's orchard. "Yes, please."
"I begin to think Heng likes you more than he does me," Yi called from his room. "How much did you hear?"
Mai saw no point in lying. "I did not see him watching me at training," she admitted as she pulled up a chair.
"When he was younger, my father did not know he would be Emperor. He was a younger son, and not even one of his father's favourites. He learned stealth as a way to survive at court, which served him well when a palace coup killed his father and many of his brothers. He alone survived, to become the Emperor we all know and love," Yi said.
Mai chose not to contradict him. All she knew of the Emperor was that he loved his son, cared for his health and wished him to have sons of his own.
"He is still set on finding me a bride, but he also wants to meet you. The healers have told us in three weeks I will be well enough to leave my bed. So, in four weeks, my father will throw a ball. He has invited every noble girl eligible to be my bride, and I must choose one of them." His eyes held pain as he turned his gaze on Mai. "What if I choose wrong?"
"You won't," Mai soothed. "Listen to your heart, and follow where it leads. Think of what you want most in a bride, and watch for it. You are a prince. What woman would refuse you?"
"I don't want a woman afraid to refuse me, or one who only wishes to marry a prince!" Yi declared, slamming his hand down on the table, making the peach slices jump. "I want a woman like the ones the poets sing songs about. Their loyalty, their courage…oh, pretty, too, I supposed, and graceful. What are your sisters like?"
Mai blinked, not sure she'd heard the question correctly. "My…my sisters?"
"Yes. What are they like?"
Mai wet her lips. "Much like any other girls, I guess. At the age I started to learn the martial dance my father taught me, they began to learn court dances. With so much practice, they can't help but be good dancers." Not that she knew, because she hadn't been able to bear to watch them wince as their bound feet hurt. "They're very sweet. They deserve to marry well, to men who will care for them for the rest of their lives. Isn't that the most a girl can hope for?"
Yi opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, as though he'd decided not to air his true answer. Finally, he said, "Perhaps."
A hope that was beyond Mai now, she knew, but at least her friend could be happy in his choice of wife. "I saw your training yard this morning. Now I know why you are such a terrible fighter. Did your weapons master never tell you that straw men cannot fight back?"
Yi laughed, and breakfast became a merry affair where the Emperor's visit was soon forgotten.
Twenty-Seven
Every day she spent in the palace, the wider Mai felt the chasm grew between palace life and hers. Here, there were hordes of servants ready to obey her every whim, but at home, she would have served Jing instead. And yet…every day she spent in Yi's company she fell deeper in love with the man.
She longed to tell him the truth, but the illusion that had allowed her to meet him in the first place was now a curse that kept her true identity a secret from the man she wished to hide nothing from. Especially when it became clear that he would be forced to choose a bride at the Emperor's ball. She knew there was little chance of him choosing her over the delicate, beautiful creatures arriving at court every day, but until he rejected her, her silly heart still held out hope that she might be the woman he chose. But as long as the illusion made her look like a man, Yi would never believe she was a woman at all.
She spent an extra hour training every morning, and another at sunset, working off her frustrations until Yi's straw dummies had no stuffing left to lose. It was never enough. Was she to remain a man for the rest of her life?
A man who could not find a bride, for she lacked the necessary parts to make a marriage fruitful, something any bride she tried to take would surely notice.
Sighing, she gave up for the day, returning to the prince's apartments by the light of the newly lit torches, for it was well past sunset now. Yi had been allowed out of bed briefly in order to be measured for splendid new clothes, but the Emperor had stationed guards outside his door to make sure he did not leave his apartment. No one stopped Mai from entering, though.
She found a lost-looking serving girl who appeared vaguely familiar standing in the middle of Yi's receiving room. The prince himself was nowhere in sight, so she addressed the girl: "What are you doing in these private chambers?"
The girl held out a basket. "I brought a gift, your Highness. The sweetest mountain apricots you have ever tasted, as a gift from Yeong Fu in thanks for his invitation to the ball."
"Yeong Fu is at court?" Mai blurted out.
"No, your Highness, but his family has come for the ball." She shoved the basket under Mai's nose. "Take one and taste it, your Highness."
One apricot stood out, bigger and more perfect than the others. Why, it almost seemed to glow. That couldn't be right. Mai had never seen an apricot glow before.
"What magic is this?" she demanded. She would not let Jing cast a spell on the prince.
The girl's eyes dropped to her shoes. "No magic at all, your Highness. Just the rich soil, water from icy mountain streams and clean air makes fruit such as this."
"Not one I've ever seen before," Mai said grimly, reaching for the offending fruit. "I don't know what your mistress is playing at, but it stops now." Her fingers closed around the apricot, which seemed to hum happily in her hand. Definitely not normal. "Take me to your mistress, so that I can tell her myself."
The girl's horrified eyes met Mai's, before she ducked her head again. "Yes, your Highness," she said.
Mai considered telling the girl she wasn't the prince, but decided against it. She would find out the truth soon enough.
Jing's voice rang out the moment the maid walked into the guest apartment: "And? Did the prince eat his apricot?"
"No, madam. He…he…" The girl waved wordlessly at Mai.
Jing slapped the girl across her face. "Stupid country bumpkin. I knew I should have sent someone else. That is not the prince. He's just some common soldier."
<
br /> Mai drew herself up. "I am no common soldier. I am Yeong Mai, the hero of the siege of Dean, stepmother. Do you now recognise the illusion you cast?" Slowly, the spun on the spot.
Jing's mouth hung open in shock. "Mai? You are still alive? You have been away from home so long. I thought you'd surely been killed, or worse. What are you doing here?"
Mai tossed the apricot into the air and caught it. "Saving the prince from your spells, it would seem."
Jing shrugged. "It is just a little help, is all. It's not like he needs the encouragement. The prince himself requested that we come to the ball. The Emperor's letter arrived weeks ago, commanding us to come to the palace." She brandished a scroll that held pride of place on the table. "See? The prince demands the daughters of Yeong Fu to present themselves at the palace, so that he might choose one of them for his bride."
Now it was Mai's turn to have trouble closing her mouth. "Lin and Lei? They are but children. Not old enough to be betrothed, let alone married to Prince Yi!"
Jing's smile was smug. "You have been away a long time. My girls have grown up." Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. "And here they are, back from court."
The girls who minced in looked like Lin and Lei, but stretched, somehow. Thinner and taller, yet painted to look like porcelain dolls. Mai did the sums in her head, before the abacus beads clicked into place properly. She shook her head.
"They are only thirteen. You have worked some magic on them, just as you have done on me. You have turned them into grown women when they are still children!" Mai wanted to be sick at the thought of Yi taking one of these girls to bed on his wedding night. She would not let that happen. Not to him, and not to them.
"Keep your voice down!" Jing ordered. "If anyone finds a strange man in the girls' chamber, you will ruin their chances with the prince. They have been working toward this their whole lives. Perhaps they are a little young, but a young bride is a biddable one, and they have so many more fertile years ahead of them. Lin or Lei would both be perfect brides for the prince, and if I must make them a little older…why, the other court women think nothing of painting and padding their daughters. I simply made the illusion more believable."
"No." Mai shook her head. "I will not let you trick the prince into this. You must break the spell on me. Let me go in their stead. If the prince demands a daughter of Yeong Fu, I will go to the ball."
For the first time, Mai's heart soared. If she attended the ball, she would make certain Yi noticed her. Then she would have her answer, and have no need to tell him of her subterfuge in order to join the army. Why, he need never know she was Mao at all.
"You?" Jing scoffed. "A girl with the iron lotus feet of a peasant, enter the court so that she might catch the eye of the prince? I don't think so. You haven't a chance of catching a husband, let alone a prince, and you will only ruin the girls' chances if anyone learns you are associated with them. No. You shall not go to the ball."
Her heart sank, right into her mother's shoes. What was Mai thinking? Even if she went, Yi would never choose her over the hundreds of more eligible maidens.
"Perhaps if you made my feet appear as small as yours," Mai began eagerly.
"I will not!" Jing interrupted. "You cannot dance, or do any of the things expected of a court lady. The only thing you know how to hold is a sword. Go back to the army where you belong. You will never marry, and you will not go to a ball in the imperial court, where you have no place!"
Tears sprang to Mai's eyes. Tears the hero of the Siege of Dean could not cry where anyone would see him. Tears Jing did not deserve to see, either.
So Mai did the only thing she could think of – she fled to the training yard from whence she'd come.
Twenty-Eight
The yard was dark, for no torches were lit there at night. Mai stumbled through the gardens, swearing as she struggled to find the path again. Had she somehow entered the wrong courtyard instead? She didn't remember there being quite so many bushes before.
She tripped over a rock, barking her shin on the way down. Instinct told her to roll, to recover, so that she might regain her feet and fight on, but Mai resisted. She barely felt the impact as she hit the ground. She had fought too long for too much that she could never have. Prince Yi would never be hers, and she could not bear to go to a ball to watch him choose someone else.
Lying facedown on the gravel path, she started to sob in earnest. What did it matter? No one would see her here.
She should have known better. Nothing in the palace went unobserved. There were spies everywhere.
A small, feminine cough sounded from Mai's left.
Maybe if Mai ignored her, she would go away.
"Why are you crying?" a voice asked, dashing Mai's hopes.
"I am not crying," Mai snapped. "I have simply fallen and when I landed, dust irritated my eyes."
"I see no dust, Mai," the woman said, stepping forward so Mai could see her. Though there were no torches, the woman was clearly visible, as though she emitted a glow of her own. Her purple gown marked her as one of the Emperor's family, though her eyes were rounder than any Mai had seen before. And purple, the same shade as her gown, which was made in a fashion unlike any Mai had seen women wear in the palace.
If the Emperor could spy on her unseen, then this woman could only be one person.
"I am sorry, your Majesty," Mai said. "I would bow, but I am already prostrate. What dust there was has settled in my eyes."
The woman laughed. "I am no queen. No throne is worth sharing a bed with a king." She gave a delicate shudder. "I am Zuleika. Merely a lady, though not of this court, or any other."
"Are you here for the prince, too?" Mai asked. Yi would like this one, she was sure of it. Lady Zuleika had all the bearing of an empress who would bow before no one.
"In a small way, yes, but I have no wish to meet the man. I came here because of your shoes," Zuleika said.
Mai sat up, wincing. Perhaps she should have landed better. "My shoes?"
"Well, truthfully, because of my mother, and your mother's shoes," Zuleika went on. She laughed again. "You'd think I'd be better at this, given who my mother was and all, but in my defence, this is my first time."
"Your first time for what?" Now Mai was really confused. The Lady Zuleika had known her mother? She looked barely older than Mai herself.
"Why, being a proper fairy godmother, of course!"
Mai stared. "A fairy…what?"
Zuleika sighed. "Did your mother ever tell you how she came to own those shoes?"
"They were a gift," Mai began haltingly. "She was a girl in her father's camp, and the camp followers would steal her shoes and hide them, for her father had forbidden her from leaving his tent unless she was properly dressed, and she could not leave without shoes. She wished to meet with one of the young officers, the man who would later become my father, and dance for him at the victory celebration, but the other girls were jealous, and – "
"And my mother came upon her, crying, alone, much like you are now, and listened to her troubles. She gave her this pair of shoes, promising that they would grant her balance and grace for the dance of her life, and that they would never be lost," Zuleika finished with a smile. "And so your mother married your father, and they won many victories together, until they retired from war and had you."
Mai still didn't understand. "So your mother was my mother's fairy godmother, but it still does not explain to me why you are here."
Zuleika grinned. "A prince choosing a bride among hundreds of maidens from throughout the land? It sounds like a fairy tale come true. Why wouldn't a fairy godmother want to go to a ball such as this? Why wouldn't any maiden want to go?" She nodded at Mai. "Well, don't you?"
Mai found herself nodding. "Of course, but…I have nothing to wear, and my stepmother is right that no prince will want a girl who looks like a commoner when he could choose ladies raised for court life. I have no place there."
Zuleika made a derisive noise in her th
roat. "Your place is at the prince's side. You know it. He knows it. Even your shoes know it."
Mai laughed. "Shoes do not think."
Zuleika winked. "Don't underestimate the power in a magical object, and you have two with you always. If you wear those shoes to the ball, I promise the prince will not leave your side. He will dance only with you, and at the end of the night, no illusion will hide what you truly are from him."
"But my stepmother – "
"Is a witch of little talent, who can only cast illusions. They look and feel real enough, but she is no enchantress. Not like I am." Zuleika held out her hand. "Mai, on the night of the ball, I shall wait here until that unbelievably noisy clock contraption strikes midnight. If you wish to have the illusion removed so that the prince can see you as you truly are, you must come to me here and I will undo Jing's spell. Or I can turn the prince into a frog, if you prefer. Not all of them are as charming as they first appear, though I'm sure your prince is the perfect gentleman. In the meantime…how about we do a little something about those shoes?"
Mai glanced down at the worn red silk. "They are the only thing I have left of my mother's," she whispered.
"But she would not mind if I made them pretty enough for court, and perhaps wove a little of my own magic into them, too?" Zuleika asked.
Mai managed a smile. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
Zuleika bit her lip. "How forgetful are you? Because what I have in mind would mean removing that never-lose-your-shoes spell."
"I have never lost my shoes, not forgotten them," Mai assured her.
Zuleika clapped her hands. "Good. Then I know just what to do."
Twenty-Nine
Still puzzled by her encounter with the strange Lady Zuleika, who dressed like a foreign empress yet claimed to be her fairy godmother, Mai headed back to Yi's apartments. She took longer than usual, because she kept stopping to admire her shoes, which caught the light in the most amazing ways. Zuleika had turned the faded red silk into something that shimmered partway between blue and green before covering the silk in a myriad of glass beads, which caught the light and threw it in all directions. They were ornamental shoes for court, never to be worn on a battlefield again.
Dance: Cinderella Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale series Book 3) Page 8