Some people chuckled under their breath; others whispered to each other, all enjoying the spectacle. “They say the deposed empress has gone mad,” Yuan Jing said as she rose. Her skirt trailed across the floor, embroidered with large peonies, each red as blood. “But she doesn’t look all that mad to me.”
She picked up the cup of wine and slowly walked over to Fan Li. “His Majesty’s reward for you.”
Yuan Jing smiled gently, but her eyes were as cold as a well in the depths of winter. “Drink it, and you’ll be free.”
Fan Li looked up at her.
Yuan Jing wore dragon’s-breath incense, its faint scent lingering on her fingertips.
Beneath it, though, was something even fainter: a bitter smell, like dried leaves crushed to powder.
Fan Li knew that scent.
Gelsemium.
When her father’s household was confiscated, that was what they found in the estate. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
Yuan Jing bent down and leaned close to her. “Do you want me to feed it to you myself?”
She nodded to the palace maid behind her.
The maid, Caiyue, stepped forward and grabbed Fan Li’s chin.
Her nails dug into the flesh, making Fan Li’s whole face go numb with pain. “Open your mouth.”
Caiyue’s voice was cold.
Fan Li clenched her teeth.
When Caiyue couldn’t pry her mouth open, she raised her hand and slapped her.
The crack of the blow rang out. Half of Fan Li’s face swelled, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
It dripped onto the ground, mingling with the rainwater that had not yet dried and slowly spreading into a pale red patch. “You refuse the easy way, so you’ll have to take the hard way.”
Caiyue slapped her again, harder this time. Fan Li’s head snapped to one side, and her ears rang.
Yuan Jing stood watching nearby, neither urging her on nor stopping her.
