Silver Phoenix (50 page)

Seated to her right, Zhong Ye ate with enthusiasm, washing the food down with one cup of wine followed by another. Perhaps he’d be too drunk to make a wife of her this evening. She stared at her bound hand, swallowing the bitter taste that had risen to her mouth, and listened to her groom banter with his colleagues.

The drunken din of the guests grew louder until the noise pounded within her head. She avoided looking at her father or Chen Yong, both completely silent, neither even pretending to eat. She scanned other faces; bleary, squinted eyes, mouths open for more wine, gaping with lecherous laughter. Her breaths came too quickly, and the room began to spin.

She pinched her thigh so hard her eyes teared. This was no time to faint. She needed to be strong—had to be strong.

This was not the worst of it.

Before the last courses were served, Zhong Ye pulled Ai Ling to her feet. They walked down the length of the massive banquet table, receiving toasts from the guests. He 287

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spoke to them in a commanding voice, threw his head back and drank with each toast. She was silent, only pretending to sip from her wine cup. After over an hour, they finally returned to their chairs, Ai Ling tottering on numbed feet.

Finally a gong sounded, announcing the end of the wedding banquet. The banquet master rose from his seat. “The bride now leads her groom into her bedchamber!”

Ai Ling grabbed at Zhong Ye’s fingers. “Not them,” she said, barely audible above the noise.

He leaned closer. “What?”

“Not my father or Chen Yong.”

He cupped her face in one hand, and she didn’t flinch.

“You’ve behaved so beautifully, love. Anything for you.”

Zhong Ye nodded, and four guards stepped forward. “Take Master Wen and Master Li back to their quarters. Secure them.”

Her father leaped to his feet. “We will go with Ai Ling!”

Chen Yong shoved the guards from her father. Airborne, he spun, fists flashing. But he was no match for Zhong Ye’s guards, who surrounded him from all sides.

“Daughter!” her father shouted.

Her chest seized. She drew a shuddering breath but did not look up as they were dragged away.

She entered the bridal bedchamber backward, leading Zhong Ye by the sash. She felt the beating of many fans before she saw anything. The song girls were arranged in a 288

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semicircle, fanning the bed with graceful movements, as if in dance.

The gold brocaded curtains were drawn, the wide bed covered with cushions in satins and silks of deep plum and red, emerald green and sky blue. Crimson sheets embroidered with the dragon and phoenix motif were draped across the bed. The edges of the coverlet were sewn with the character for eternal happiness, woven between peaches, lotus, and pearls—all symbols of happiness or fertility.

The banquet master untied the same-heart sash. “Your heart is one,” he said, bowing.

The song girls parted. Zhong Ye offered a hand, which Ai Ling did not refuse, and helped her climb the carved steps into the massive bed. She knelt down, facing away from the door of the bedchamber and the crowd that had followed them in.

“The husband unbinds his wife’s hair out of love and ser-vice,” the banquet master chanted.

“He’ll unbind more than that tonight!” someone shouted, and everyone burst into rowdy laughter.

She closed her eyes.

Zhong Ye kneeled behind her. He pulled the first pin from her hair. Then another. Her locks began to unfurl across her shoulders. She kept her head bowed. Her cheeks burned.

This was just the beginning. Her mind wandered to what she could remember of wedding rituals—all she had read in
The Book of Making
.

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Zhong Ye’s fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She steadied herself. Don’t react. Don’t give them the satisfaction. The song girls cast red and white flower petals on the bed; the banquet master threw grain. Her hair was entirely loose.

“Make her a woman tonight, Master Zhong!” The crowd cheered and laughed, whistled loudly and stomped their feet.

“May she be soft and pliable! She certainly looks it!”

Zhong Ye turned her around to face the crowd. She navi-gated across the bed on her knees. Her fury blazed, and she feared what she would say if she saw their faces . . . what she would do. She too had a role to play, for now.

The noise grew until Zhong Ye raised a hand. The hush that followed was immediate. “Thank you for joining us in this celebration, esteemed friends and family. . . .”

What family could he possibly have? He was an ancestor, ancient.

“I ask now to be alone with my bride,” Zhong Ye said.

The whistles and foot stomping began again. The crowd was in a frenzy. But the last of the ritual words had been spoken by the new groom, and the inebriated well-wishers retreated quickly, knowing there was more food and drink waiting for them in the banquet hall.

Six guards stayed behind, standing at attention. Zhong Ye waved a manicured hand. “Leave us. I hardly need your protection tonight.”

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Zhong Ye was beside her, his long hands resting on his thighs. She did not move. He finally rose and inclined onto the thick cushions of the bed, resting casually on one elbow.

“We’re alone at last, love. I’ve waited for this night for so long. Too long.” He reached for her hand, brushed her fingers with his. His skin was smooth, fl awless.

“I know how you’re feeling. But you will grow to love me, Ai Ling. Just as Silver Phoenix did.”

She blanched. Silver Phoenix could never have loved him.

He wanted her to meet his gaze. She refused, and he sighed.

“I became a eunuch when I was twenty years . . . centuries ago. Most were forced, sold, or bought. But I chose my path.”

Ai Ling swallowed hard. He wasn’t whole. A thin thread of hope wound through her.

He continued to stroke her fingers. His gaze was tangible; it touched her brow and traced her cheekbone and jaw, fluttered against her lips. He was attempting some sort of sorcery. The white rage within her crackled, expanded, grew taut again. She remained still.

“You’re more strong-willed than I realized, my pet. I shouldn’t be surprised.” He sounded amused. Perhaps even pleased. “You’re my match indeed. We’ll rule together through all the dynasties. We’ll always be here. Our love will last forever.”

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He released her hand. Repulsed, she clutched them together. He was delusional—a madman.

“Come now, don’t play games. Look at me. Let me see the lovely face of my new bride.” She finally met his gaze with a defi ant tilt of her head.

“Fiery eyes, just as I remembered them. You may have a different face, a different body, but yes, I do remember the spirit behind those eyes.”

He must have been handsome in his youth. His true youth. His strong cheekbones lent boldness to his face.

But he lacked color now. His lips were wide, drawn thin.

Whomever he may have been when he was born—that person no longer existed—was long gone. He climbed off the bed and moved to a low chest in the corner.

“Would you like some wine?” He poured himself a cup.

She shook her head.

“Please stop kneeling at least, Ai Ling. I grow tired just looking at you.” He made his way to one of two wood-carved chairs in the room and sat down, stretching his long legs before him. “I’ll enjoy my wine here. You have the bed all to yourself.” He laughed.

Ai Ling did not argue. She stretched out her legs as well.

Both feet were asleep and tingled painfully. She sank back into the pillows, bone weary.

She lost herself in the bright lanterns strung across the ceiling as she waited for his next move. Her mind kept returning to the drawings in
The Book of Making
. Not all of 292

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them involved . . . Her neck grew hot, and she wrenched her thoughts away.

If the man chose to talk, she would listen and rest—gather her strength and energy. It was not yet the right time to touch his spirit. He was too strong. She needed to distract him.

Zhong Ye poured himself a second cup of wine and downed it. “I remember the day so clearly. Not the pain, the pain is just a distant memory. But how does a man ever forget the moment his manhood is taken from him?” Zhong Ye rose and began pacing the room, making Ai Ling think of a caged creature, lithe and restless.