Wine was a given at Fanjiang banquets. Xian Yi sat beside me and drank an alarming amount. I tried to steal a few sips for him—take the edge off his share—but he stopped me, squeezing my hand under the table. "What does a little runt need with wine?"
"Who are you calling a runt? I'm your consort!" I drew myself up and puffed out my chest. His gaze drifted downward, lingered there for a beat, hazy with drink. "Oh?"
I remembered what he'd said the other night about my chest. I folded my arms and deflated. "I'm going outside for some air." I scrambled away before the embarrassment could swallow me.
Behind me, Xian Yi swept his gaze once across the hall and drained his last cup.
* * *
Wan Yun walked me through the courtyard while I cooled down. Two servant girls carrying food boxes walked ahead of us—one tall, one short—chattering so intently they didn't notice us at all. I wasn't planning to eavesdrop, but then I caught the words Sixth Prince, and my feet carried me closer without permission.
"Can you believe the Sixth Prince gets along with the Guangji princess? I saw them walk in holding hands!" the taller girl said.
Little gossips.
"Right? Everyone knows that marrying the Guangji princess means giving up any hope at the throne. The King doesn't trust any prince with foreign ties. We all assumed the Sixth Prince would resent her. Turns out they're doing fine."
I didn't hear the rest. The words blurred together. Had I really brought him this much trouble? And he'd never once held it against me. He'd been decent to me—more than decent.
I turned and hurried back.
* * *
Xian Yi looked properly drunk. His eyes had gone soft and unfocused. The moment I reached him, he slumped against me like he'd lost every bone in his body. I patted his cheek. "Can you walk? Let's go home."
He mumbled something. My name. My throat tightened. I moved to stand and excuse us from the King. The King was already watching us. His gaze was hard to read—curious, probing, something I couldn't name.
I got Xian Yi home, dropped him onto the bed, stripped him down to his underclothes, stuffed him under the blanket, rolled him to the far side, and fetched a second blanket for myself on the near edge.
I woke in the dead of night, overheating. Xian Yi had burrowed into my blanket at some point, his arms and legs wrapped around me like I was a body pillow. We were rarely this close—even sharing a bed, we slept on our own sides. The most we'd ever done was hold hands or an occasional hug. Now, with only thin underclothes between us, the heat of his skin bled straight through the fabric everywhere we touched. My pulse hammered in my ears. I pushed at him—he didn't budge. Instead, his hand closed around mine.
His long fingers were all sharp angles and hard knuckles. He pressed his joints into my fingers, grinding slowly. I was fully awake now. "That hurts."
"Already?"
His other hand found my waist and lingered. I knew what was coming. But I didn't feel the resistance I'd imagined. I bit my lip and watched him, my heart battering against my ribs. He was gentle.
"Princess Consort."
His voice had gone low and rough in a way I'd never heard before. "I was wrong," he said.
"W-wrong about what?"
"Shouldn't have said you were small."
I drew my knee up and kicked him. The charged air between us scattered. "Get out."
He caught my ankle. With the momentum of my kick, he lifted my leg onto his shoulder. That dangerously handsome face was all seduction now, every angle lit with intent. "Princess Consort. I'll be gentle."
* * *
When I woke, the sun was already high. His face was buried in the crook of my neck, still deep asleep. I could count each thick, dark lash. The slope of his nose. The full curve of his lips, flushed red. Under the blanket, my leg was still draped over his body—it was the only position that didn't ache.
I lay there and watched him for a while. Strange, all of it.
I gripped the edge of the bed and eased myself up. By the time I'd washed and dressed, he finally stirred, rubbing his head—clearly paying for last night's wine. I looked at him, and something shifted in my chest. Subtle. Hard to name. He seemed less annoying today. Almost pleasant to look at.
Winter melted into spring. The air warmed quickly.
* * *
I propped my chin on my hand and watched the maids fly kites in the courtyard. Nothing held my interest anymore—every day felt the same. Then Xian Yi strolled in from the outer yard, and I caught myself sitting up straighter. Lately, seeing him come home made me happy. He always brought back something odd or wonderful, and somewhere along the way, I'd started listening for the crunch of his boots on the gravel path.
He walked in, saw my expression, and grinned. "Nothing today."
"What?"
"But I do have good news."
I perked up. "What is it?"
"The royal hunt in the Geba Forest. Few days from now. You're coming with me."
I launched off my chair, threw my arms around his neck, and bounced. "Really? Really?! When? I don't have anything to wear for a hunt—take me shopping right now!"
He clamped a hand on my head to stop the bouncing. "Already handled. I had clothes made for you. They'll be delivered tomorrow for a fitting."
That night I was too excited to sleep, and my restlessness was contagious—Xian Yi couldn't settle either. He told me about the animals in the Geba Forest, how the hunts were organized in past years, which beasts he'd brought down himself.
I rolled around the bed as I listened, giddy beyond reason—into his arms, back to my side, into his arms again.
"Are there rabbits?" I sat up. "I want a rabbit."
"I'll catch you some. How about five? Think that's enough to eat?"
I froze. Then I kicked him. "Who said anything about eating them?!"
"You had rabbit for lunch yesterday."
"Hmph." I turned my back on him. A minute later, I rolled over again—I couldn't help it. "But I'm not a very good rider..."
"That's fine. You'll ride with me." He reached over and pulled me into his arms.
I draped my leg over him—our usual sleeping arrangement now—and found a comfortable spot. I closed my eyes. "Thank you, Xian Yi." Maybe the days here aren't so unbearable after all.
One of his arms was trapped under my neck. The other found my bare foot under the blanket—ice-cold, as always—and wrapped around it, his warm palm cradling it whole. I nuzzled into his cheek, content. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and closed his eyes.